The entire world has found itself in an unprecedented situation. Someone said they find themselves in a constant state of either over-reacting or under-reacting, yet they never know which camp they are in at any given time.
Feelings and rationale seem to be muddled. The next steps are not only disorienting, but they are also unchartered.
I am a doer. That is where I am the most comfortable. Feelings of prolonged disquiet and fear are not within my comfort zone most days.
Yet, a few days ago I cried.
I cried for those that have lost their lives.
I cried for those that are mourning their loved ones.
I cried for the fear of this virus.
I cried that my youngest son is so vulnerable to it.
I cried as I grieved for the spring season. Now is the time when my fear for my medically complex child typically lessens. Spring is when the flu season is coming to an end and I feel like I can breathe again. Yet I would give anything for fear of the flu right now.
I cried because the words that usually comfort me were buried deep within me and refusing to surface. I have days of my journal that are blank save a scratched date in the top hand corner.
I cried for those who are out of work.
I cried for those who are still needed to work serving others.
I cried for the introvert in me who suddenly didn’t have any alone time.
I cried for the extrovert in me who doesn’t know how long it’ll be before she can hug her extended family or her friends.
I cried for the inner entrepreneur who is bracing for the negative fallout to a business she has spent years building.
Then last night I cried because of the damage a storm caused to our home and vehicles.
Then I dried my eyes and starting giving thanks.
I gave thanks for a husband and two amazing sons who I am able to spend time with over the following weeks.
I gave thanks for all of the healthcare workers, grocery store employees, truck drivers, and everyone putting their lives on the line to serve us.
I gave thanks for T.J’s medical team who has personally called and fought like crazy to provide medicine and instruction, “just in case.”
I gave thanks for knowing the words I hold dear will eventually return. I just have to be patient. My blank pages represent an inner dialogue with myself and my Lord & Savior.
I gave thanks for having my boys with me, safe and sound.
I gave thanks for my family and friends who are anxiously awaiting to hug me.
I gave thanks for living in a world where hard work and determination will pay off once again. My business will bounce back. I will make sure of that.
Then this morning, I gave thanks for being so blessed to have vehicles and a beautiful home to repair.
I didn’t allow myself to feel shame for the original tears or heartache. That was a key part of the journey.
In the end, I gave thanks for both the pain and the blessings; for without the pain, my gratitude may not have been so heartfelt.