Maybe that is why I latched onto the metaphor (or analogy?) that grief was described to me like the act of vomiting. Nausea is an uneasiness of the stomach that often comes before vomiting. Vomiting is forcible emptying...
Why it is so appropriate for grief is because, like vomiting, grief can come with or without warning, it can come at the least opportune times, it can last a long time or be brief, but the worst of it always goes away...at least for awhile. But everyday for the past 113 days I have had constant and unrelenting "nausea" that is frequently followed by forcible emptying of my emotions as a reaction to missing Ian and the impact he made in my world and the world of those I love.
Some days grief wears me out as I am flooded over and over again in waves, especially those first few weeks or on long, lonely days.
Some days - usually without any warning - it is with different triggers or sweet memories and those moments tend to be rough and painful, but quick.
At least once a day grief starts in the pit of my stomach, sits there for a good while, and then begins building and building until it wrenches me into fetal position begging God for relief.
I know God hears my cries for mercy and answers. When the overwhelming grief comes, it does not last forever as I fear it will in the moment and slowly but surely I am comforted enough where I can again continue moving forward - even if it is just one breath at a time.
Psalm 6:2-4, 6, 9
Have mercy on me, Lord, for I am faint; heal me, Lord, for my bones are in agony.
My soul is in deep anguish. How long, Lord, how long?
Turn, Lord, and deliver me; save me because of your unfailing love.
I am worn out from my groaning. All night long I flood my bed with weeping and drench my couch with tears.
The Lord has heard my cry for mercy; the Lord accepts my prayer.
The best "medicine" I have found is turning to God and His word - and, well, crying!
Psalm 34:18 - The Lord is near to those who are broken-hearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.
Next to God, spending time with Greg, Danny, Caylea and even Ian (in new ways) has brought tremendous comfort and healing for my soul. God truly blessed me with these people, truly, truly.
The love of family and friends has also been able to lessen much of the intensity that grieving inspires. To my parents who have been a constant source of support, to my five sisters who have all cried with me, to my friends who have huddled around me to listen and listen and listen, and to Ian's friends, our adopted children (thank you for coming and staying), to each of you I am eternally grateful for the healing of my heart you have provided.
Please allow me to mention by name five women who have been in my life almost daily over the past 113 days and who have also been a blessing to me:
- Shelley, thank you for the daily texts. They mean the world to me, as do you.
- Becky, despite the hard parts of life, you make me smile and laugh even when I don't think it is possible.
- Nancy, for being my wounded healer through this process and for being my friend.
- Tobi, because God knew I needed a Toto in my life.
- Heather, for loving my son as your own.
As I type this I realize I have been blessed beyond measure through my pain and grief (nausea and vomiting). God says it in
Matthew 5:4 "Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted"
and I have been greatly and overwhelmingly comforted.
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