In the words of the Blessed Backstreet Boys (paraphrased), “OhmyGosh, I’m back again….”

I realized I hadn’t written or published anything since March of 2023—that’s a really, really long time to lay something down, and there’s a lot behind the whys-&-the-hows, but let’s just say that my priorities got out of line…my spiritual walk got a little loopy…and life got really, really busy. Between wrestling with theology, work commitments, and having former friends stab me in the back, twist the knife, laugh while I bled, and kick me off of the bridge (nah, I’m not bitter), it’s been a minute. 😊

I had a management position that I loved…I had the best boss of my life…I had a team of employees that I worked hard to build rapport & transparency with…and then I didn’t. After my manager was unceremoniously disposed of by an institution he worked for over 20 years, a former friend of mine became my manager. In full transparency, it was a trainwreck, & I fell apart from a mixture of straight-up bullying/gaslighting, a lack of support, an overload of work, and my own lack of respect for the position this person had attained. Combine this with an employee who valued her own emotional preening over the truth, & you have an untenable situation that I gladly walked away from (truthfully, I would have gone on in that toxic situation until the stress killed me. I don’t have a lot of “quit” in me. However, I found myself facing a choice that didn’t really leave me much of an option, along with a son who point-blank asked me “why are you doing this to yourself?!?” He was right). The anxiety absolutely crushed me; the loss of the position crushed me. And as I have so often done in my life, I found myself face-down on the couch, crying out to God: “Where else can I go?” (You can read the previous blog post for more on this quote that I may as well get tattooed on my face.)

Once the decision was made, I felt like a huge weight that I hadn’t even realized was there, lifted off of my shoulders. “This isn’t punitive,” said the Lord. “It’s deliverance.” And He was right—my theology, particularly in the absence of attending church regularly, had begun to get muddled. Loving people out of one’s own resources rather than out of an abundance of the Holy Spirit meant that I was trying to pour out of an empty cup. I was trying to sustain the mental & spiritual energy it takes to guard my heart while reaching out to others. When you don’t strengthen your armor through prayer & support, it gets weak, and “hath God not said,” gets pretty strong in your mind…

Thus began my #AdventuresInUnemployment this fall.

David & I have had random periods of unemployment throughout our almost-20 years of marriage, but honestly, I’d not been out of work since 2008, & the world has CHANGED in regard to finding a position. I struggled with an identity crisis—did I still want to be in management? Nope, not for a minute. PTSD can be defined as a persistent, anxiety-inducing issue that lasts more than 45 days, & believe me, I had work-related PTSD. This position was not my first management position, but it was in education, & I just didn’t have the foundation I needed to do what I wanted & needed to do. I didn’t have the support to manage well or to understand the expectations, & I spent more time caring about my employees than pushing them beyond what they wanted to do. I have no regrets about leaving my own comfort zone in healthcare & transitioning to education, but I do have regrets about not voicing real issues over voicing the emotions those issues elicited. I have regrets about not setting personal boundaries…about all of the nights & the weekends I spent supporting departments & programs and cleaning up messes…about spending half of my vacation answering emails, & about the anxiety I let build up that suffocated my joy. I have regrets about not protecting myself, and ultimately, about not protecting my family from the burnt-out mess I became.

In a beautiful, glorious tapestry that only looked messy to us at the time, David lost his job last spring. He found another one just before school started, & then I lost my job in the fall. The next few months would change our lives…

In August, we received a phone call that my mother-in-law went on hospice. My brother-in-law & my sister-in-law gave up everything to move in with my in-laws to take care of her, along with my father-in-law (who had dementia, as did my MIL).

In November, my brother-in-law died unexpectedly, & we were devastated. My husband lost his best friend; we lost the most giving, kind man we’d ever known. And on top of that, we lost my mother-in-law’s caregiver, who understandably needed to take time to mourn the shock of losing her spouse of close to 40 years.

We utilized a hospice benefit so we could hold Eugene’s funeral & temporarily placed my MIL into a nursing home…where she broke her femur. We began the process of finding a place for her to recover, even as she continued to struggle with hallucinations & the delusions of dementia.

In December, I received a call from my biological dad’s caregiver & friend, Tammy: “Your dad’s in the hospital, okay?” Me: “Well, really, what’s new? I’ll come up and see him in the morning.” I had a huge interview that day…the kind of interview where you go Business Formal, you suit up, you psych yourself up. The position was thiiiiiiiis close, and this was my last step to a salary & a position that could restore so much to my family & put me back in community service….I finished the interview and drove out to the county hospital…where I discovered my father was in the ICU & was dying of congestive heart failure, COPD, and cirrhosis of the liver.

I wasn’t ready.

I used to say that whenever my biological father died, I’d not shed a tear. This, as it turns out, is a lie. I was devastated.

I was devastated at the loss of a potential relationship. I was devastated at the loss of a terrible relationship. I was devastated at the time that was wasted to abandonment, addiction & abuse. I was devastated by his own admission that he was a terrible man—which we all knew–& I was devastated to be the one to call my sister to come & say goodbye.

Two years ago, God called me to reach out to him & to try to restore communication. It was HARD—I was angry, & I had to hand all of that over to God even as I unpacked it all & processed it with therapy & prayer. I loved my phone calls with Dad—neither one of us likes to talk on the phone—they were short-&-sweet, & he always ended with, “I love you, baby.” “I love you too, Daddy.”

Even typing this, I can feel the tears fall. I won’t get to hear that again this side of Heaven…but I know my Dad knew Jesus. Broken, ornery, abusive, & straight-up wretched—he made his confession of faith, & Jesus welcomed him Home. For those that Fred hurt, they may not be happy to hear that, but I sure am, because we’re all the same in the eyes of God.

I got to see my sister say goodbye…I got to see my dad lay eyes on the daughter he hadn’t seen in 13 years, & I will never, ever forget what that looked like. My son got to say goodbye to a grandfather he’d gotten to meet (which I had once said would never happen). Even my husband got to say goodbye, & my best friend, Vinita, supported us through the entire journey (as did her husband, Casey—he took care of Jericho during our last day with Dad, & I will never forget that).

My dad died without pain, surrounded by his kids (& Vinita, who’s a bonus sister), 90’s country music, prayer, & knowing he was loved. He didn’t die alone—that was so important to me, as I’ve lost 2 uncles who died alone in their home, & I didn’t want that for my father. Does anyone deserve the dedication of people who surround them in their going-home, as long as it takes?

Yes. Yes, we do—NO ONE deserves to die alone. Everyone deserves a human presence next to them, praying them into eternity. That’s a gift, & I am so, so thankful my sister, my best friend, & I got to give that to my Dad.

I wound up getting a different job than the one I’d had the “big” interview with, & I’m back in healthcare again. I may wind up going back into management after I learn the business part of this new organization; I love that I get to combine education & healthcare, & that I’m doing something I’m marginally familiar with while learning alllllllllll kinds of new things. I’m realizing that the stress of my previous position literally short-circuited my brain & affected my health to the point that I was starting to wonder if I had a neurological condition.

News flash: I don’t, at least, where my brain is affected. 😊 I was just overworked & unsupported. It matters.

Having those weeks of unemployment allowed me time to get my thoughts in order…to focus on healing, on what I did wrong, where I could improve, what I needed to do in regards to my career….I focused on organizing the house, learning new recipes, and FINALLY, on how to cook the perfect chicken breast. I feel like even as I was dealing with trauma on multiple levels, the time I had gave me an outlet to rediscover my joy in everyday life. I LIKE organizing things. I LIKE cooking new recipes. I LIKE having my house in order, building shelves, and getting things sorted out. I like my solitude, and my time to cry/laugh/talk to God.

We went back to church. We found a small congregation close to home that keeps us in the community, has denominational support & accountability, and has solid leadership. We’re still working on introducing ourselves (we got waylaid with the flu that took us out for 3 weeks in February), but I think there’s a lot of potential there. It’s healing to be in a body of people that worship together…

But we weren’t done with trauma, it seems….

In January, we received a phone call that my father-in-law was left unattended in his home & fell down the stairs. He passed away, & our family was devastated. Three major losses in three months, on top of David’s mother being on hospice & my starting a new job…then the flu…fighting Medicare for coverage in the nursing home & dealing with taking over administrative tasking for my in-laws…issues in my family stemming from my father’s death that I don’t even understand & still have me reeling…There’s a repeated theme in my life of abandonment & silence when behaviors are not what is expected, & being on the receiving end of it so many times, is excruciating…but seeing my child on the receiving end of it, is so much more than infuriating.

I’m struggling with loss, with anger & sadness & grief. I’m frustrated, worried about my husband, & fighting the urge to wrap my arms around my son & protect him from everyone-&-everything to an extreme.

I’m working my way out of the wilderness & I suspect it will be a very long time until I feel the branches part….but the beautiful thing in the mess is that I know, even if I die in this wilderness, I’m not alone. I’m “leaning on my Beloved,” per Song of Solomon 8:5.

So, where do things stand? I’ve just written over 2,000 words about the utter s—show our lives have been for the last few months, but here I sit, grinning like a Cheshire cat as I type this line.

THERE IS STILL JOY. We’re still laughing, and every chuckle is a giant flip-off to the demons that circle to steal the peace God has poured over us. We are drowning, but we’re laughing at the hair in our eyes as we cling to the life raft of God’s love. We don’t know when or how we’re going to get our feet back under us, but we’ll hold each other’s hand & fall down together. We got into an argument last night that lasted all of 10 minutes & ended with a hug—we’re broken, loud, ridiculous, & we’re basically walking disasters, but We Belong to Jesus, & we know He has us in His hands.

“The human world—it’s a mess.” Sebastian is RIGHT. It’s messy. Our son is 12—he’s almost a teenager—and he actually keeps us grounded when we’re extra-ridiculous. He keeps our sense of humor rolling at the most inappropriate times, & sometimes it’s hard for me to reprimand the sass when I’m snorting back a roar. It’s hard to bawl when you’ve been Rick-Rolled for the 75^th time that week, I mean, c’mon….

We’re in The Waiting as to how we heal, what happens next, and how we put one foot in front of another. We’re leaning on our Beloved. We’re (generally) laughing with each other and occasionally foraying into Trash TV because it’s mind-numbingly pacifying. We’re getting ready for Baseball Season (woohoo) & I am so, so grateful to be employed, especially with it being something I enjoy & with management that is supportive and patient.

We’re resting in the Lord as much as we can. We’ll move forward; we’ll occasionally take a step backwards. We’ll mourn & laugh, & we’ll look at each other a few years from now and say, “how in the world did we get here?!?” (We do that now, in all honesty).

And most of all, we’ll continue to be thankful for the support of friends and family, physical and spiritual, who give us the “grace to grieve” & the space to process…

We’re grateful.

We miss you every day, Dads and Eugene. Hold Hannah for us, give my Grandma a hug,  & save us a seat…