This grieving is new territory and I am learning as it unfolds. I haven’t experienced loss of this magnitude before, haven’t felt this intensity of sadness. It’s really difficult. In some ways it’s even more difficult because we’re experiencing personal losses not generally understood or acknowledged by others. That makes me extra thankful for this blogging community.
I did a lot of grieving over the last year as we came to understand my health conditions and our infertility challenges, went through all of the medical appointments and tests, and ultimately had my ovaries removed. I cried so much as my husband and I went along that path. When we got disappointing results and bad news, I would go to bed – sometimes for hours – and there were lots of tears.
Now the surgery is done. I’m 9 weeks into recovery and slowly but surely feeling better physically. Emotionally I’m doing pretty well, but I am still experiencing a lot of grief and feel like I don’t know how to navigate this.
On Saturday, my husband and I attended a class at a new church and then an evening service. We’ve had a difficult road in faith over the last year, hence the new church. It’s a long story I may put into a separate post. In any case, the class went really well and I became very encouraged and hopeful. I really want to find a church home where I feel I belong.
It was my first Orthodox service in a very long time, and it was simple and powerful. During the prayers I had a tough time trying to keep from crying. I know I could cry there, but I felt self-conscious since it was my first time there and my tears aren’t exactly quiet, pretty tears these days. Then, there was reading of psalms and that was just too much for me. It touched my heart deeply and pulled the pain out to the surface. I stepped out and then was able to return for the rest of the service.
Once it was over, we made our way to the car. I probably was crying as soon as we got outside. I asked my husband to drive and collapsed into the front seat. I just sobbed, cried so hard that my ribs hurt. Tears streaming, nose running, couldn’t stop. I cried a lot before my surgery, but my tears after have been a new level of intense. In some ways it feels like my body itself is grieving. It’s like the tears don’t come from my mind or anywhere conscious, it’s like they come from my body. I don’t know how to describe it and I certainly haven’t experienced it before.
Since Saturday, I have felt almost like a cry-hangover. I feel a sense of residual sadness and am really, really tired.
After my cry in the car, I told my husband my sadness feels like a lake I heard about that has a hole in it. The caption to the photo said the water pours down the hole and the lake never dries. The tears aren’t like a gentle rainstorm. They’re like a lake pouring down a hole in the rock. I’m doing okay and I know I will feel better, but for now it also feels like the sorrow is infinite.
Photo: Lost Lake, OR image (https://i.ytimg.com/vi/XAMLGB0hUmk/maxresdefault.jpg) I think is from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XAMLGB0hUmk.
Text copyright Snowdroplets 2016.