If there is one thing the Oregon coast is known for, it’s the rain. Yesterday morning I sat in my little glider looking out our window and watching the rain. I felt a little silly sitting there, no phone, no distraction, drinking tea and hugging my big teddy bear. What’s impressive about the rain is even though during the rainy season it becomes almost a constant background noise to our lives, the paint lasts. Road paint. Paint on houses. Paint on cars. Sure, it does eventually wear down and need refreshing, but the fact that it lasts as long as it does against the constant batter of wet and wind is incredible.
So why was this so fascinating to me at 8 am yesterday morning?
Two weeks ago on Wednesday, at around 7:30 pm, my dog passed away.
She was 17 years old with a cancerous tumor in her back leg that had become necrotic and was spreading rapidly.
Yet it didn’t make the choice to put her down any easier. Nor has it made her loss any less difficult. Everyday the silence that now fills our apartment reminds me of the constant background noise she used to create. Like the rain in Oregon, she felt like a constant in my life.
And yet, rainy seasons must end too.
” Just because it rains doesn’t mean the paint stops being painted on. “
I have to admit that I’ve never been good at dealing with sadness. I’ve struggled with depression about as long as I have owned Sammy. But as people who have dealt with depression know, depression and feeling sad are very, very different. I’ve also been blessed not to deal with much grief in my life. My two griefs have been grieving over my health as well as this past March grieving the loss of my aunt.
How most people know me is as a smiling, happy woman. Even on the day that we were putting Sammy down, I was doing pregnancy paperwork at the hospital and the lady mentioned how I had anxiety and depression on my paperwork but I “looked like I was doing well.” I wanted to tell her I was horrible. I wanted to tell her I was losing a dog I had owned for over 16 years that day. Instead, I smiled.
In truth, I am terrified of being sad. Because to me, if I am not the constant, cheery Bethany that everyone knows, who am I? If I don’t smile every time someone speaks to me and answer “good” or “fine” when someone asks me how I am, who am I? If I let myself be sad, then I will get depressed and I will spiral and I’ve been in that hole before. I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to fall down there again.
So I fell back to the coping mechanism that is ingrained into me. The one that I used for years. And, ironically, the one that doesn’t actually help anything.
Distraction. Distraction. Distraction.
Some of you may know my skill for binge watching shows. You may have heard how I once accidentally pulled an all-nighter by watching two seasons of New Girl and hadn’t realized what I’d done until I looked outside and saw the sun was up again. Some of you may know how quickly I read books. You may have heard how I can chew through a series and I won’t stop until I know how it ends (even if I have read the books before and already know how it ends). A lot fewer may know how I can lose myself for hours in Facebook or Pinterest, scrolling, commenting, getting into arguments with strangers over things that matter to me and have no value to them. Even when I am watching a movie or series I love and am invested in the story line, I sometimes have to be on my phone as well as a second layer of distraction because apparently the first distraction isn’t distracting enough.
If you know anything about psychology, you’ll also know there is a healthy level of distraction and an unhealthy level. There are healthy ways to distract yourself from bad thoughts and unhealthy ways.
Can you guess which way mine is?
When Sammy died, I was terrified of feeling sad. It was a bad feeling and it hurt more than anything has ever hurt in my life. I didn’t want to feel it. I didn’t want to spiral. And I chose not to feel it. I chose distraction. I buried myself in other stories. I let myself be enveloped in their lives. As long as I wasn’t in this reality, I wouldn’t notice what was missing and I wouldn’t feel my feelings.
Because to me, my feelings weren’t okay to feel.
I was so busy distracting myself. Then I would get overwhelmed because I have all these things I need to get done and I wouldn’t do because if I did those things I would have to stop distracting myself and if I stopped distracting myself, I would feel things. God forbid I felt things because if I felt anything other than happy then I wouldn’t be myself and how could I get anything done if I wasn’t my happy self?
And so, without noticing it, by trying so hard to prevent it by not feeling sad, I began to spiral.
Luckily for me, I have an amazing husband who calls me out on my bullshit. I had noticed what I was doing last week and told him I was going to give up my distractions for that week. I think I lasted maybe a day. Maybe a day and a half. Then I let my brain whisper to me that a little distraction was okay. I was just reading a story. That was okay. And by the time we got to this week, I was back to physically incapable of putting my phone down, no matter what we were doing.
“You told me to call you out,” he reminded me. He was right. He is amazing, like always. “Just watch the show with me.” When we laid down that night, I cried, hard. “I could tell you had been keeping that in too long,” he said. “It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to cry.”
I’ve told myself that for years. In my head, I’ve reminded myself that it’s okay to have bad days. But had I ever really believed myself? Had I ever really learned that yes, it is okay to be sad. It’s okay to do things while you’re sad. It’s okay to go to the store while you are sad. To tutor while you are sad. To stand in line at the DMV while you are sad. It’s okay to feel like you are about to cry while buying tea from the coffee shop or paying for strawberries at the farmer’s market.
Just because you are sad doesn’t mean you stop being you.
Just because it rains doesn’t mean the paint stops being painted on.
“It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to cry.”
This time I’m going to allow myself to be sad. I’m going to give myself the time and permission to be sad. I’m going to not distract myself from my feelings and be okay with feeling them. Will I be perfect at it? No, definitely not.
I have only a couple months (or less) before I become a mom. There is so much to do and prepare for. I feel like I don’t have time to be sad, but if I don’t let myself be sad, then the outcome is actually worse. I will spiral and I will be far more unable to function (and feel far more useless) than I am now.
Nate made a suggestion and I’m going to take it. Pick one thing. One thing that you have to do that day. Maybe you get more done, maybe just that one thing. But for now, stop trying to do so much and start with one thing. Today, I am writing this for my blog because I haven’t been doing much blog writing recently. I hope I get more done, but at least I did this.
If you are like me, struggling and feeling in over their heads. If you feel like you can’t get anything done or like you are constantly trying to distract yourself, whatever that looks like for you, then I challenge you. Pick one thing. Get a big whiteboard and find somewhere noticeable to put it. Write that one thing for that day. And do it. Maybe it will be as simple as taking a shower (and believe me, I’ve been there. Showers can feel like a major accomplishment). Maybe it’s just going to work. Whatever it is, make sure it’s one thing.
I hope soon I will be coping well enough that I can write down two things on my board.
If you made it to the end of this emotional, personal, rambling mess, I thank you for sticking around. I hope you keep coming back for more of this personal word vomit as well as news about upcoming stories and new works in progress. Subscribe to my email list so I have more reason to actually write newsletters and send them.