Grieving

There are many things I was looking forward to when I got married. Someone to spend the rest of my life with. To share in the joys and trials of parenting. A name to finally put on the invitations that for 10 years read “Michelle and Guest”. Another thing that I had longingly anticipated was having a new family.

You have to understand that my family and I do not have a lot in common. My sister got married when she was only 15 and went off to live the stereotypical life of a young mother. My brother wasn’t much different. He may have never been married or had children (that he knows about) but his life doesn’t resemble mine in the least. I went to college. I didn’t marry until I was almost 30. All of my children are from the same man and have the same last name. But the biggest difference between me and the rest of my family is that I am a Christian. They, sadly, are not.

So because I married a Christian man from a Christian home I thought there would be a instantaneous bond between us. Not only us but also between myself and his family. I imagined that I would have this unfailing connection with my new relatives. I imagined all of us (especially the women) spending time--days, weekends, holidays--together experiencing life together. I imagined us sharing thoughts, feelings, and dreams with each other and holding each other accountable to those ambitions. I imagined each of us joining together to help raise the next generation to be great Christians. My imagination couldn’t have been more wrong.

Just recently have I realized that because of this misguided dream and my subsequent broken heart, I am going thorough the five stages of grief. Not grief like surviving the death of a loved one. But grief nonetheless. My grief is from the loss of a connection of family members--both of my family of origin and my family by marriage.

The first step of grief is shock and denial. I never realized how much shock I was in the beginning. Few do. I spent the first part of our marriage denying the fact that I didn’t fit into this new family. I would go to family get-togethers and expect camaraderie. Love.   Acceptance. I ignored it when I didn’t get these things. I ignored it for a while that is.

The next stage of grief is where I sat the longest. Anger. I spent the better part of the last decade angry with everyone including myself. My sister-in-law and I actually came to blows one time over my behavior and ways of life. I wish I had known then what I know now.   I was just in a stage of grief and crying out for someone to love me. But then again who wants to hug a porcupine? It’s hard to let someone know you are hurting when you are too busy throwing darts at them.

The next stage that I went through was bargaining. I thought I could earn their love with my many “ifs and justs”. If I could just… If I would just… If I just tried... None of that worked either. No matter what I did I couldn’t get them to see the wonderful woman I am. The woman who has overcome many obstacles and triumphed many trials. They will never know the heartache from which I have been healed. Few of them really know me or anything about my past.  But it was partly my fault.  They could never see it because I was forever in the angry stage.

Currently, I have noticed that I am in the fourth stage which is depression. I am sad. Simply sad. Heartbroken sad. Bitterly sad. At times, inconsolably sad. I have come to realize--with a lot of counseling-- that I will never truly belong to either family group. The unbelieving family from which I come and the Christian one that makes me feel less than adequate. I feel that I am stuck in the middle. Not wanted by either side. My family looks at me as the “holier-than-thou-Bible thumper” and my in-laws see me as the not-quite-good-enough sinner with a scarlet “A” pinned to my chest.

It’s not fair but life rarely is. If I contemplate the injustice too much I quickly revisit the angry stage. Then I have to start all over from there. That just causes the cycle to continue--again. So instead of running on the treadmill of anger-bargaining-anger-bargaining. I just need to accept my circumstances. My fate. My lot in life.

That’s the final stage of grief--acceptance. I need to accept that fact that I am me and this is who I am. And maybe someday everyone else will realize that I am just a sinner yet saved by grace trying to live this new life the best I know how. But for now I will just have to work on accepting the fact myself. Accepting the fact that I am loved by The One whose opinion matters and that is all that matters. I need to accept me. I need to accept this situation. Then maybe everyone will be able to accept me also.

But for now I will work on trying to fit in. That is all I can do. Push through the stages and move on towards the goal. With Jesus’ strength I will get through this and survive. I always do.