On Monday night I realized I was emotionally exhausted and feeling bitterness towards some of my close friends. I couldn’t place where all of this was coming from or why I felt frustrated and emotionally drained. There’s probably a lot more to figure out, but I came to a couple of conclusions.
- Every single person has a billion things going on in their lives, whether it’s positive or negative. Everyone is caught up with what is going on in their own lives, myself included.
- I’m usually the initiator, the one who checks in consistently, the one who shares but also wants to listen. However, offering an ear leads to becoming aware of Conclusion #1, which leads to not wanting to burden someone with another thing on their plate. I feel uncomfortable asking if someone else has a moment to sit with me in my emotions. Instead, I send out little text messages asking how other people are doing and try to be emotionally supportive, hoping that they will reciprocate to the same capacity.
- Sometimes when I reach out to someone it is not out of genuine care, but in an attempt to fill my own void. I don’t like that. I want to genuinely listen to and invest in and care for the people I love.
- Talking about my miscarriage in person over and over is literally exhausting in every single way, and sometimes I don’t need to tell every detail to every person who asks. I want to share, but I need to do it wisely otherwise it’s more hurtful to me than helpful.
So, I slowly figured out some boundaries. This week I didn’t reply to any messages I didn’t feel like replying to. I didn’t reach out to anyone unless I genuinely wanted to or needed to. Most importantly, I opened up my Bible app first when I started to sense some unrest.
These three boundaries made a world of a difference. They allowed me to take a break from other people, and prepared me for triggers that came up towards the weekend. I realized that despite ghosting them for a day or two, my friends were much more understanding and forgiving than I had expected them to be. Instead of allowing my emotions to control my interactions, I could pray through it for the first time. ‘Lord, give me strength to be a good friend. Give me courage to face this.’
That’s not to say it’s been easy every day. Triggers vary and resurface after lying dormant for a week or two. Unhelpful thoughts and anxieties float around in my head until I can get them out in text.
The latest unhelpful thought lingering this evening is this.
The number of weeks that have passed since the miscarriage is almost equivalent to the number of weeks I was pregnant. Time moved so slowly when I was pregnant and excited to share the news. Time moved so slowly again the first month after the miscarriage. And now suddenly here we are in October.
It’s sobering and sad, and not something I really want to discuss with Heui Chan. This kind of thought is largely negative, and while it’s an important part of grieving I don’t want to weigh him down. Just like Heech doesn’t want to weigh me down with his thoughts and emotions. I think I’m okay with this arrangement for the time being. Maybe when more time passes we’ll be able to talk through it all more.
This passage from a devotional I’m doing spoke to me. I’m working on memorizing it.
Lamentations 3:19-24
Remember my affliction and my wanderings,
the wormwood and the gall!
My soul continually remembers it
and is bowed down within me.
But THIS I call to mind, and therefore I have hope:
The steadfast love of the Lord NEVER ceases;
his mercies never come to an end;
they are new EVERY MORNING;
great is your faithfulness.
“The Lord is my portion,” says my soul,
“therefore I will HOPE in him.”
Drops of Jules 