14 October 2012


I've been living the last few days in the awkward discomfort of radio silence.  Pete and I have been at a stand-still, our relationship feeling hollow, and me feeling empty inside.  It is probably the cumulative effect of two people feeling totally misunderstood. 

The last couple nights as I've crawled into bed I've struggled to fight back the tears of despair. 

 I loved this quote from a woman named Julie who did a guest post on Jacy's blog.  She said

"People often ask me how I handle so many trials. I usually respond with something like, I didn’t know I had any other option."

Exactly.  What is the alternative?  Ending up in a psychiatric hospital on suicide watch? And friends, I don't say that in a derogatory way.  A human soul can only handle so much before that starts to seem like a reasonable alternative.  Thankfully I'm not to that point, I'm coping.  But when people say
"I don't know how you do it."  I feel like I have no other option. 

At least that's what I thought.  When I tried to tell myself that I was strong I didn't know how or what that meant.  Then I had breakthrough.  A couple nights ago I knelt at my beside, with a choice before me.

1. Plunge into the despair.  Let it overtake me.  Grab the Kleenex box and weep over my misfortune. 
2. Let it go.  Forget about it, at least for now.  Don't give into the despair.  Don't shed one tear.

I realized that if I was going to choose the second option it was going to take something... I was going to have to be strong.  I needed intellectual and emotional strength to let it go.  But I felt weak.  I thought of all the people I admire, and how they have chosen not to dwell in darkness and I decided that that night there were going to be no tears. 

It was truly liberating and empowering. I felt strong

I know I'm not always going to succeed.  The next night I had to do it again. I didn't cry but I still allowed self-pity to occupy my thoughts until I fell asleep.  But I know I have strength within me, and my other option isn't insanity.

It's peace and purpose.   


  1. I'm happy you were able to make the choice and get past the sorrow. I love feeling in control of my emotions.

  2. Despair is something I am all too familiar with. My prayers are with you both.

  3. I love this! I have thought often about this sort-of "moderation of emotion." I think in some situations, the emotions hit full-throttle and your body and soul is just so overcome that the tears come. But then I also think there are also some circumstances that are repetitions of the past. Thoughts you've already thought. Emotions you've already dealt with. Problems you've already solved. Yet, due to the nature of healing, we have to keep realing the same things over and over again. I think every once in awhile just letting everything come out is absolutely necessary. But I think most of the time, it's exactly what you said in this post: "Let it go." I always tell myself, "I already shed a tear about this. Moving on." "I already got angry about this. Moving on." "I already worked through this frustration. Moving on." It's hard, because wallowing makes me think, well maybe God [or husband] will feel bad for me and see just how deeply this affects me. Nah. Self-pity only takes its toll on the pitier. (That's not a word, haha!)

    Anyway, keep going Jane. You are doing really great. Much better than it FEELS like. You are drawing such wisdom and insight from all of this. I love you so much. Thanks for always being there for me.