There's a verse in the Bible somewhere about God saving up our tears in a bottle, they are precious to him. Or something along those lines. (wow, astounding my blog audience with my bible knowledge... awesome)
This week needs more than a bottle. He's gonna need one of those huge oil drums out on the dock for the flood of tears I've shed, and it's only Wednesday.
Monday was just a bruising day at work. Several different difficult interactions and comments left me feeling completely incompetent, stupid, frustrated, wondering what the heck am I doing here anyway, etc. This tropical-storm size meltdown seemed to calm down more than once, only to flare up again and wreak havoc on the sweet and kind-hearted crewmember-friends that innocently stepped into it's wake to ask are you okay? I think I actually responded once with No! Do I look okay??? (unleash torrent)
It's going to be okay.
Tuesday I woke up with swollen alien eyes and a massive emotional hangover, so I spent extra time making my hair cute. And I did get many compliments on my hair. And only a couple people noticed the eyes.
It was a better day, overall, while not fantastic I managed to keep most tears at bay for most of the day, and even looked back at some of the shenanigans from Monday and could chuckle about it. I did manage to get to the doctor and confirm my suspicions of yet another ear infection... cheers. In honor of my emotional fragility I took off an hour early to go get pizza and beer with friends, because lets face it, in that moment, that was a good life choice. (don't judge)
And then I got back to the ship and got some tragic news from home.
You're going to be okay.
A dear friend, a cancer diagnosis, a few weeks left.
What do you do with that?
I love this community, I say that all the time. But it's a weird place to grieve... because I'm the only person here who knows her, and in that moment when it feels like the whole world should just stop it doesn't, and people still need things and need me and don't even realize I'm sitting alone in a little bubble of grief and despair and pain and anger and all those things that come with news like this.
So this morning I found myself again spending an usually large amount of time on my hair... supposedly to balance out the alien eyes but in reality I think I just needed to feel like I could control something.
And what I've noticed over the last three days of tears is that the question that is hidden beneath all of it is simple... I just need the simple reassurance from an outside source that it's going to be okay.
It being the work situation - it will be okay. The ship will still float, I'm not getting fired (I don't think), we'll still do amazing things every single day that would fill up volumes and volumes if every one got written down.
It being my friend - it will be okay. I believe God will heal her, either here or in heaven, and she will be okay. God is still on the throne and in our midst and in control... and I know I can trust him with her.
It being the decision whether or not to get on a plane - it will be okay. Because I know I will see her again, someday, whether it's here or there or in eternity.
It's going to be okay. You're going to be okay.
Yeah, it is, and I am, and she is, and we are... Thank you, AFM crew, for your patience and love and grace and compliments on my hair while pretending to not notice my alien eyes. I do love this community.