The unexpected happened when I saw my Mom this week for the Parent Vision Trip. I was expecting to see her, I was expecting to break into tears, I was expecting to be joyful and filled with excitement and run into her arms.
What I didn’t expect was the brick wall that immediately came up when I saw her. The brick wall I built to support her. The brick wall of numbness that I put in place of my vulnerability and my feelings.
It was early Friday morning of April 29th. The day my mom and I have been counting down towards. The day I finally got to see her after 8months of being on the mission field.
I woke up to a missed call from her and a message saying that she needed to see me. On the schedule we weren’t “supposed” to see each other until that evening at 9pm. I was also scheduled to go out with my team and finish our months ministry orientation with a scavenger hunt around town. A fun way to orient ourselves with the city.
I messaged her back a direct and clear cut emotionless text, telling her about my schedule – and reminding her of the “rules”. My mom wanted to see me because she was upset. My sister had told her that my grandmother was told to start making funeral arrangements for my grandfather. I was given this information the night prior on the phone, I wasn’t too disgruntled with it. Being a social worker I know that hospice workers telling someone this information doesn’t have to mean too much. They are just preparing, death can’t be predicted.
I talked to the squad leader about the situation, and how my mother was emotionally upset. Not realizing I had completely shut down all of my emotions already. I was given the okay to go see her and to miss the scavenger hunt. I called my mom, her crying on the phone, me just walking through the motions. We set up a time to meet.
I could feel my body tense on the phone with her, and any emotions I should be feeling completely evaporate. I wasn’t excited to see her anymore. I wasn’t even sad about my grandpa. I was numb.
I got ready and headed downstairs, and there she was outside. This was the moment I had waited months for, and I didn’t feel anything. I hugged her and she immediately broke down into tears – I consoled her. Thoughts racing through my head.
What is going on inside of me?
I thought I was done numbing myself, didn’t I just work for eight months on being vulnerable? On grieving? On feeling?!
Why am I reverting to my “month one” self?
My mother and I spent the morning together, I didn’t mention any of these thoughts to her. I just listened as she talked. I was being “strong” for her.
The next day all of the racers whose parents were attending PVT had a debriefing time. It was to open the floor up to what we were feeling, how PVT was going, etc. Other racers started opening up and sharing, being vulnerable. I decided to be bold and speak up. I mentioned what had happened with my mom, what was going on with my grandfather, and that I felt like all of the work I had put into becoming open and honest with my feelings were gone. I shared with them that I didn’t know how to tell my Mom what I was feeling, and how to still be there to support her.
My two worlds were colliding. The world of who I was back home, and the world of who I am now.
I shared that I felt like I was back in the place of having to be the “strong one” in the family. That I couldn’t share and be “weak”. That I couldn’t have my emotions, or feel them, or even think about them. This role that no one asked me to step into, but I thought I had to fill.
The debrief ended, and multiple racers came up and hugged me. Thanked me for sharing and encouraged me to have that hard conversation with my Mom. I knew I needed to talk to my Mom about what had happened. About all of the things I was feeling. I couldn’t go back to who I was, it was unhealthy to just shove all of these emotions down and numb myself again.
Andrea came up to me and told me that she heard God tell her to tell me that “He was my Mom’s rock“… Hearing this I broke into tears again.
At lunch I told my Mom that we needed to talk about the debrief session at some point in the day. She tentatively said okay. We then quickly changed the topic and finished eating.
As the day progressed I think my Mom forgot about the conversation. It never came up again. As we were getting ready for bed, I asked her if she would like to talk then or in the morning. She looked anxious. Stared at me with eyes questioning what I needed to talk to her about.
We decided to talk before bed. I shared with her my struggle with vulnerability, and how I use to numb my emotions. How I felt like I had to be strong for her and my little sister. How I felt like if I broke down and was emotional like them, no one would be the “strong one”. How I felt like I had to step up into my Dad’s role when she and my Dad divorced. How I felt like I had to be more assertive, and logical. I shared all of these feelings and struggles I had, and how it started out subconsciously and then grew into a big part of my identity. How I numbed myself for so long that I eventually didn’t even know how to feel. I was real with her, and shared openly about everything.
As I talked she intently listened, at times asking questions or talking about how she recognized it when I stepped into that role. At some point in my sharing she laughed and mentioned that how when I stepped into that role of the “strong” one I actually came off as insensitive. Instead of being someone my mom and sister could feel safe to lean on, they felt like I was judging them for having emotions.
This whole time I had put this weight on my own shoulders. This weight of being put together, and strong, and I was actually just hindering both myself and my relationships. I laughed at how relieved I was, and how ridiculous this whole situation was.
After the conversation I was so grateful that I had been bold enough to talk this through with my Mom, and relieved that I could begin to walk through the steps of feeling again. I don’t want to be numb, I want to be emotionally healthy. I don’t want to be insensitive, I want to be human.
The following morning we both received a message separately… My Grandfather had passed away.
I heard the knock on the door, I knew it was my Mom. I was in shock.
How did this happen so quickly?
He should have lived until I got home from the Race. I wanted to say goodbye. I wasn’t prepared.
I opened the door and there my Mom was, crying and leaning up against the wall. I hugged her and she said, don’t be strong, cry with me Faith.
Nothing.
We sat down on the bed, I rubbed her back as she talked and cried. I stayed silent, occasionally blinking. She eventually walked out of the room to go back downstairs into her room. The whole encounter was a blur.
I laid back down in my bed, and then it happened. I cried. I put on my Grandmother’s favorite song that ironically my Grandpa hated “please release me let me go” by Englebert Humperdinck. I listened to it and it placed me right back in that old house with them. My Grandmother across from me on the couch crocheting, the music in the background, and Grandpa sleeping in his chair. I envisioned the scene and just balled.
I eventually got up to blow my nose and then returned to the bed. Staring at the wall as the music continued to play in the background. My roommate/teammate Kayla Zilch came into the room, I acknowledged her slightly – still not feeling up to talking so I didn’t say much.
As I was laying there my Mom was sending me messages about memories she had of Apu that were flooding her mind. I read them, staring at my phone. I don’t know how many minutes passed, but eventually Andrea came into my room. She had heard what had happened from my Mom downstairs and wanted to check on me. I hugged her, and shortly after my Mom came back in to my room. Looking a little more grounded, holding some fruit from the breakfast I skipped out on downstairs.
It being a little bit of a scene with my Mom and Andrea surrounding me in my Bed – I told Kayla what had happened. She joined us on the bed. Feeling the community I had surrounding me. Andrea asked if she could pray for me, saying yes she blessed me with a wonderful prayer. I hugged her and she left to go to ministry – I told her I was going to stay back.
As the day progressed I was thankful I had shared with my Mom the night before. The timing was impeccable, God is so good. It was so nice to know that I was allowed to feel, as silly as that sounds. That it was okay if I wasn’t okay.
We went to get our lunch at the Zion Cafe, I was hoping to get it to go before everyone came downstairs. I didn’t feel like seeing anyone. One mother came down, saw my Mom and I sitting at the table and asked if we would come upstairs so that they could all pray for us. I looked over at my Mom – she said it is up to you.
While I was debating the situation, my old team leader Nicole Blattler came over and asked if I was okay, saying she heard about my Grandpa. I hugged her. Thoughts racing through my head, “I really don’t want to see people. I know I’ll cry. I just want to be alone.” Yet having other thoughts echoing back “community is a good thing. Prayer is a good thing. They want to support you. Let them support you. Be vulnerable.”
Hugging Blattler a second time broke me, I started to cry. My Mom mentioning to the other parent that it was good because I hadn’t cried in front of her yet.
I looked up and said “okay, let’s feed ourselves to the wolves” trying to give myself the courage to walk upstairs, not really knowing what I was saying or what I meant by it – obviously having an internal battle.
We walked into the room upstairs. It felt like hundreds of eyes were on me, they motioned for us to come to the front of the room. As I walked towards the front of the room I felt like there was a 100 pound weight on my chest.
“Lord, why are you making me do this” I felt like I was literally being put on display for everyone to see.
We stood at the front and then everyone followed. They came and laid hands on us. Surrounding us. They all prayed at once, and then Haley closed in prayer. Both my Mom and I were balling through the whole prayer, yet I felt supported. I no longer felt awkward about displaying my emotions. I felt peace, and relief.
“This is a good thing. Community is a good thing. Prayer is a good thing.”
I am so grateful that my Mom was here when I got the news about my Grandfather. I am so thankful that we had that couple day pre-warning so I could recognize that I was putting a wall up. Im so thankful I was encouraged to talk to my Mom, and that I did. I am so thankful that I recognized that I was backsliding into a unhealthy pattern. I’m so thankful that I can now walk forward in more healing, and that I can be bold about what I am feeling. I’m so thankful God’s timing is still perfect.
I’m still working through my emotions. Yesterday was an absolutely amazing day, I was happy, and I felt like I was in a fairytale. Today I feel like crap, and all I want to do is hide in a dark room by myself. Yet, I’m taking it one day at a time, and I am expressing what I am feeling. I am not hiding it. I am not going to numb myself.
I am not super woman. I have feelings. I am choosing health over being stoic. I am choosing vulnerability over shame. I am choosing to feel over being numb.
I pray that if any of you are struggling with shoving your feelings down, that you recognize that it isn’t healthy. I pray that instead of numbing yourself you choose to live fully alive. That you recognize that you aren’t only numbing the pain, you are numbing the good feelings too. Just like how I couldn’t feel the excitement or the pain when I saw my Mom, numbness steals joy.
I pray for any of you going through a loss, that you choose to heal with community. That you recognize the power of speaking life, and encouragement. This community I have with the Race is priceless.
I pray that you feel the power of prayer, that if you are going through something challenging you choose to heal with God and not alone. He is always there, and even if we can’t see it at the time – His timing is perfect.
