My "Ugly"

I’ve officially entered into my “Ugly" phase again… No matter what I do, I’m left feeling I’m an ugly parent, an ugly spouse, an ugly person (inside and out)… Every year around this time I slip into this “Ugly" phase as I refer to it (probably originally labeled from my husband or children who end up getting the brunt of it because they’re stuck living with me). March is looming - my birthday month, another year older staring me in the face. Another year of unmet dreams and goals ready to pat me on the back with it’s disappointing hurrah. It’s that agitating time of year when spring fever and winter weight gain are at their height. The littlest things set me off ~ from laundry to meal making and everything in between (and I pretty much mean everything in between). I’m left stewing under that umbrella of feeling completely overlooked, under-appreciated, and unloved. I feel completely alone, yet I can’t help but surmise that it’s probably not just me this is happening to… Satan is having a hayday with me and my family.

It happens every year.

This year I’m also traveling parallel to a journey I was silently on a year ago. An intense journey of loss I never imagined would happen to me, to us… A year ago I was nearing my 40th birthday, and after seventeen years of dealing with infertility, I found out I was twelve weeks pregnant. We would also nearly immediately find out our little baby carried a rare genetic disease, Trisomy 18, and would never get to come home with us. We were left to wait for her to pass away either before or during childbirth. Our biggest hope and dream finally answered, only to be immediately shattered.

I’m one that feels and experiences life with every ounce of me - I’m over-emotional about everything and deeply affected by even the littlest of things. I honestly hate that about myself. I hate always feeling an intensity inside that probably borders on insanity, always battling some extreme emotional rollercoaster. I long to just be calm, cool, quiet, and collected all the time. But, I’m not. I’m a loud, fly-off-the-handle, crazed lunatic most of the time (at least that’s how I feel on the inside). It’s an exhausting battle I never win.

I’m trying hard to intentionally not “numb” right now. "Numbing" as Brene Brown puts it in her book "The Gifts Of Perfection" is something everyone does that takes the sharp edge off of feelings that cause vulnerability, discomfort, and pain in order to avoid experiencing it. It's whatever provides a quick relief to take the edge off life's hurts, or life's anticipated hurts - alcohol, drugs, food, sex, relationships, money, work, gambling, staying busy, perfectionism, mindless time on the internet, hours of television watching, ect ect ect... So I’m left attempting to just feel the feelings and lean into the discomfort of the hard emotions and face it all head on. It's hard, and it’s causing the "Ugly" to rear it’s ugly head with a vengeance, and I’m left gulping for air and desperately trying to grapple for grace.

I’m not the only one in my household traveling this parallel journey of loss… this Journey of Faith… my husband and my children are as well. We are all handling and navigating this road differently. I watch my husband as he tends to keep it all in while “numbing” in front of the tv while on his phone all night. My youngest acts out in anger, whining, and defiance.

I thought I was maybe ready to start sharing a bit of our story in effort to find closure and healing, in hopes to get past all this "Ugly"… so I went back to the journal I kept last year… and I opened the first entry. I made it about one third of the way through, and couldn’t go any further. The tears, the intensity… reliving the reality was too overwhelming. I closed it. An hour later, I reopened it and tried again. For now, this is all the further I can get…

{Continue to journal entry #1 HERE - Forty and Falling Apart (Part 1)}