Monday, April 23, 2012

Man Down.

So. I went to church today. And I went back and forth in my mind, for what seemed like hours, deciding if I really wanted to suffer attend, before church actually started at 1pm. I took Hannah and Ian with me. The Bishop spoke on a topic that's pretty tender to me. He talked about people that had fallen away from church activity and attendance. People who are living life styles not in compliance with gospel standards. People who had been offended or hurt. Or people who have suffered trials that they could not bare on their own. As he spoke longer, I started to squirm in my seat. He likened those situations, if you will, to a police unit that had come under fire. Some took bullets, 1 died. He went on to describe others that went back to rescue the others that had fallen. Man down. I thought about the Bishop, thought about him being at the hospital, in the very room, went Isaac's heart stopped beating. He witnessed my mother in law wailing in pain, Andrew's stunned look on his face when he came in the room to introduce Isaac to the family. He witnessed my children's hearts breaking in two. He witnessed me asking the nurse to check Isaac's heartbeat, because I need in that exact moment, Isaac had slipped away from us. MAN DOWN. In those moments I became the woman that could not do it on her own. I could not bare that burden for my family, no matter how I struggled to do so. I was in need. Isaac dieing pushed me off the cliff, broke the camel's back, broke my spirit. I am a fighter. I'm tough shit (that's pretty funny to write). I am strong. I am constant and dependable. I have a high tolerance for pain. But that. That broke me.

I've thought often over the last few years about what I did wrong. I asked for privacy immediately after Isaac died. Did asking for that mean not talking to me, or my family for months? Years? Did it mean to not email or leave something on my doorstep or mail a card. Did it mean forget my kids? And husband, too? Asking for privacy did not mean forget we exist! At least, that's what I thought. I am so thankful for the one or two people (out of a couple hundred or so) who knew us well enough to take a stab at comforting us. That loaf of bread. Those flowers. The card. Yeah, we needed that. I just don't know what happened to the other people. I lost it. And people ran.

Church. Me. Good hell. Not the best. I have struggled through the past 3 years on.my.own. First, I would try to go to church, and just cry. Then I would go to church and pray hope no one would talk to me. I wanted to just go and not be judged. Not be judged for the journey I was on. Not have the women's leadership tell people I was "coming around" again, or was "softening up". I got tired of being asked if I was new. "Uhhhhhh. No, we've lived in the ward boundaries for, like, 10 years, my baby just died, I'm struggling to get here." I just don't get it. I'm not claiming to be the loveliest peach on the block, I'm really not THAT dumb, but really.... just ANY thing. Anything would have done. I have been so frustrated the last few years feeling like people were sitting around tapping their perfect little toes on the ground waiting for me to get over it already. I mean. After all. I MUST know the gospel is true, right? I'll see Isaac again, right?? I have peace, right??? WHY is it that people cannot imagine that sorrow can exist WITH peace. People, I HAVE peace. I'm also heartbroken. I had a baby die, I had 3 miscarriages after. I HAVE a testimony and I'm struggling at the same time. Weird shit, right??

So now. Man down. Still. But thanks to MYSELF, and a little a ton of help from God, we're healing. We're getting by. We're moving on. We'll figure it out. A little at a time, we move forward. I'm more open to new friendship. I've moved away from old ones that were never any good in the first place. I've accepted that I've moved through the faze that I was SUPER hard to be around. I appreciate the people who can look back with me and cut me some a huge amount slack. It's been hard. So hard. But I'm getting by. I'm doing it. I can go back to church and roll my eyes and people who really don't know any better. I have more joy than sorrow. I have less anger and more happiness. I have more tolerance and less irritation. I am so thankful to be 3 years out, instead of 3 months.

So. You tell me. YOU tell me what you need when you are the "man down". Help me understand you better, help other unknowing people understand better too. What are ways someone can help, when really nothing else is easing your heartbreak? I was not an easy person to comfort, what would have helped you, being in my shoes? Lets share a little here.....

xoxo All my love, Misty 






4 comments:

Tesha said...

Misty this post is Amazing, I love honesty above all other qualities! Please link this tomorrow at the grieving mommies link up! I know others would be blessed, to know they are not alone in the pit. I think I have been pretty hard to comfort at times also. I so want to sink into a pit of isolation but because of our circumstance's it is impossible. I do not do well with out people, so it is really good that I can not isolate to much. I think I am forever changed by my grief and I hope that when someone say they do not need help I will show up with flowers a card and dinner :) I know it is so hard to be let down by people, I have to say all the time, father forgive them they know not what they do. When Jonathan was born no one called at first, I called my pastors wife from our mother church and said "You better tell people to call me to I might go crazy" Then they called and I was upset they did not say the right thing..uuugggg. There is just no easy answer. Well I am really glad you went, I know it is hard. Saying a prayer that we would all walk in forgiveness to those that let us down and be people that would love others in their pain.

Holly said...

I think people forget that it doesn't have to be anything big. Something simple as a note or card is better than nothing at all! Perhaps people are afraid they don't have the 'right' words. Well, yeah, chances are they don't but a simple I'm sorry and/or I'm thinking of you again is better than nothing at all. I would just want to not feel alone and it was hard for me to find that IRL, which is why I spent a lot of time online to connect with people who got me.

For me, church is def better than it used to be. It was a highly emotional place after Carleigh died. I did feel some people let us down but there were some who did give us good support. You're so right that sorrow and peace can exist together.

S said...

Wow...that's a hard one. I'm difficult to support but usually one of the first to support others. During my miscarriages, I caved. I didn't want to hear how it was going to be okay. I didn't want to hear that it happened often to many. I didn't want to hear that it was God's will or it wasn't my time. Then I didn't know what I wanted. To be perfectly honest, I still don't know what I wanted from others.

I wanted a baby. I wanted those babies. I wanted to hear a heartbeat and see a growing tummy.

I was more open to others in the same situation. I felt that those that had walked in my shoes were worthy of sharing my pain, of knowing my pain, of learning my story.

Love and hugs to you and yours.

Klin said...

I don't know how others see this, but I know I feel grateful for my trials. I don't know that I could have made it through yours. I wouldn't have wanted to experience the intense grief you have been given. I see you as strong. Even in your grief and pain. You didn't give up. You took a step back. Regrouped. On your time. You are tough shit, (yes that if funny to type). You have been asked to live through more shit than anyone I know and remember I hear a lot of what people have to live through. YOU give me courage to continue to help and provide hope that people can make it through all the trials they are asked to do. You show me that it's possible.

When I am the man down, I need space. I need prayers. I don't need special friends assigned to me, I need real friends who are okay when I look terrible and have puffy read eyes from crying or lack of sleep. I need patience so I can work through it. Homemade bread is always welcome, even if I'm not the man down.

Stay amazing, even if you don't feel like you are.