I sat next to Chris at church last weekend as we listened to the sermon.
He drank his Coke, and I took notes.
The Coke can was a trigger for me. I knew what the Coke can meant a year ago. Exactly one year ago, actually. He was playing bass in the worship band, and I was at home with the girls. I wouldn’t know until a few days later that he had a drinking problem, but Sunday, one year ago Sunday, was when it all started falling apart.
Although, that’s not very accurate, because it had been falling apart for a while. It was just that Sunday, a year ago, with that red Coke can that it all stumbled out into the cold, hard light of day.
I’ve known this day was coming. In a way, I’ve been bracing myself for it. In a random turn of events, Chris was asked to fill in with the worship band on the one year anniversary of his downfall.
I see you, God. Very, very funny. We’re all amused.
I’ve been trying to figure out what I would have wanted to know a year ago. A year ago, I didn’t know what was coming. Chris had been caught drunk, people had confronted him, but I didn’t yet know.
That admission would come in a few days.
I remember Chris coming home the day before he told me about his drinking. He sat through dinner quiet. I could tell something was wrong and asked a few times if he was okay.
He said he was.
After dinner, the girls ran outside to play, and we sat at the table together. I took out my phone and showed him a funny website my friend Brittany had shared with me on Twitter. Some of the memes on there had made me cry-laugh earlier that day.
I thought they would cheer him up.
Instead he just watched me laughing, barely looking at the screen. At the end, I commented on how I couldn’t believe he didn’t think those were funny, and he just smiled wistfully at me.
He knew what was coming.
I did not.
But through the magic of the internet, I can tell myself now, a year later, what I would have whispered to myself to prepare for the collapse of my marriage, my trust, my finances, and my family.
Sometimes I think about those moments before. How safe and innocent I felt even though I knew something was wrong. I think about those moments we all have, right before we learn of the car accident or the heart attack. The moment before we get the phone call or the police visit.
I often think about the moment right before we collapse.
And here is what I want us–all of us–to remember in the right-before and the during:
You are going to be okay.
You are going to feel like dying. You are not dying.
Your heart will break. And just when you think it’s done breaking, it will break again in new, more painful ways. Do not give up.
You will want to give up every day. When the thought of giving up comes (and it will), acknowledge it and then let it go. A thought does not have to become reality.
People say hurtful things. When hurt people say hurtful things, it doesn’t change your reality or truth. You are not dumb. You are not weak. You are not a waste of time or space. You are worthy of love, worthy of respect, worthy of honesty.
You will get through this.
You are going to be okay.
You might lose some people during this crisis. Don’t hold too tightly to anything right now; you’ll lose some things, but gain things too.
Sometimes there is no reason. I would like to say it will all come full circle, but this side of heaven, I just don’t think we all get that luxury. Keep going anyway.
You will do the best you can in the moment and not be too hard on yourself. As we grow and learn, we do better. Just keep learning and growing, even when it hurts.
You are going to be okay.
Laugh. Laugh at weird, horrible things. Make inappropriate jokes. Laugh so you don’t cry. Laugh-cry. Then just cry. All of this is acceptable.
Don’t rush your life. Don’t rush your choices. Don’t rush your healing. When you’re in survival mode, it’s okay to let some things fall away. When it’s time, you can pick them back up again. But let some things go for now.
Time is a great healer, but spend the time well. Demand health and boundaries for yourself. When so much of your life feels out of your control, you can control how well you are caring for yourself.
Let others help you.
It will never work out the way you plan. Remember what you can control and all the things you can not.
You’re going to be okay.
You’re going to be okay.
You’re going to be okay.
You are okay.
I’ve written about May 3rd before. Check that out here. It’s the start of a series, so if you want to start from the beginning, start here.
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What a great post. I follow your blog, but don’t often have a chance to read it. Blessings on this May 3.
I have a May 3 story too: http://tracibarton.blogspot.com/2018/05/grief-growing-up-and-stew-of-life.html
Traci
That’s a tough May 3rd, Traci. Thanks for reading and for sharing that with me.
You are an amazing writer. Love your posts (just read about 5 random ones). You are going to be okay!
Thanks, Breanna!
You are so brave and strong to share this. Thank you! Your words are so well spoken and poised.
Thanks for the encouragement, Devin. 🙂
Love this post. You are an amazing writer!!
Stephanie
Thanks, Stephanie!
The transparency here is so perfect. Your story literally jumps off the page and invites me in. You spoke to my soul with this and that’s something you don’t expect from a blog post. Thanks for the reminder that not only will I be ok but that I already am ok.
Thanks for the encouragement, RC.