Mourning Sickness – The Things They Don’t Tell You

Do you know the most surprising thing about divorce? It doesn’t actually kill you. Like a bullet to the heart or a head-on car wreck. It should. When someone you’ve promised to cherish till death do you part says, “I never loved you,” it should kill you instantly. You shouldn’t have to wake up day after day after that, trying to understand how in the world you didn’t know. The light just never went on, you know. I must have known, of course, but I was too scared to see the truth. Then fear just makes you so stupid.

And stupid can stay with you for some time. It’s not as if you’re given a Divorce for Dummies 101 course on how to handle the emotions. No one tells you about the overwhelming feeling of aloneness. That how in the beginning you slide down walls in tears. Or that you’ll find yourself over a toilet dry heaving because you’re scared out of your mind and somehow in the last week you’ve forgotten to eat so there is nothing to upload into the toilet yet the urge to vomit is very real. They don’t tell you that just when you think you’re grieving is over that something will happen, a look, a song, a picture, a memory – something – will creep back in and you’ll find yourself in a cold, dark bathroom lying in an empty bathtub, fully dressed in order to escape. They don’t tell you that 5 years down the road you’ll still be grieving, finding yourself in a puddle of tears at 1am because you realize it’s the night before the holiday where hearts are everywhere. Hearts reminding you that yours is not loved, it is torn and jagged, as if you were in a field of missed corn stalks, forgotten and alone.  

They don’t tell you that in the journey you will feel lost and alone, not knowing who you are but that as you live in the pain you will find things that bring you back to you, only a different you. It’s like going through a pregnancy. There is a period of time that you struggle with sickness or you feel kicked in the gut. There will be days that you cannot walk and so you wobble to and fro or you just don’t get up out of bed at all, because the weight of the load you’re carrying is too much for you to handle and has left you feeling deformed. They don’t tell you that there will be a day when you will give birth to something beautiful, a  new life, and you’ll begin to live; you’ll begin to breathe.  While the scars and stretch marks left will remind you of the pain, perhaps bringing stupid back into play, but it will pass. You will remember that there is beautiful life that you must live and you’ll pick yourself up off the floor, deal with the mourning sickness, and take a breath.

“To the one whose dreams are falling all apart and all you’re left with is a tired and broken heart. I can tell by your eyes you think you’re on your own but you’re not alone. Have you heard of the One who can calm the raging sea, give sight to the blind, pull the lame up to their feet. With a love so strong and never let you go, no you’re not alone. Did you know that the voice that brings the dead to life is the very same voice that calls you now to rise. So hear Him now He’s calling you home, you will never be alone. You will be safe in His arms; you will be safe in His arms. ‘Cause the hands that hold the world are holding your heart. This is the promise He made, He will be with you always. When everything is falling apart, you will be safe in His arms. These are the hands that built the mountains, the hands that calm the sea. These are the arms that hold the heavens; they are holding you and me. These are the hands that healed the leper, pulled the lame up to their feet. These are the arms that were nailed to a cross to break our chains and set us free.” ~ Phil Wickham

Copyrighted by reflectionsbypj 2010/02/13

Advertisements

3 thoughts on “Mourning Sickness – The Things They Don’t Tell You

  1. I think this is one of the best posts you’ve ever written. I could hardly read it through tears. It has been such a privelege to see you coming back to life, my friend.

  2. never have i heard it so well expressed. i’m so sorry that you’re having to go through this, but thank you for putting words to what the rest of us also feel.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s