Singing in the valley of tears...how to keep moving forward when you can't go on.

What to do when you're completely spent from the trials of life.

I had a different piece penned for today. I wrote it on the plane to California the other morning, when I was headed down for the day to visit the Cancer Center for Healing and run some further tests (more on that later). It’s about our emotions - how they can be both beautiful and dangerous and I hope to share it soon.

But I felt compelled to write something different for this week. In fact, after a discussion with someone I had recently where it was said that I, despite my staunch protest, am not a resilient person, this feels a bit more authentic anyway. Not that I’m spilling dirty secrets, but I like to stay real. So here’s a piece that shows how very non-resilient I am.

Plus, in light of the catastrophic and apocalyptic losses in California (not to mention what happened in North Carolina and other places in the country) this is more fitting, anyway.

What happens when you can’t go on??

I know I write a lot about the trials of life and how to pick yourself up after they happen. Life is hard, really hard, and yet we are called to embrace everything as God’s Will, accept the crosses, and allow Him to make everything beautiful in His own way and time.

But what do you do if you can’t do it anymore? What if you keep embracing, carrying, and allowing over and over and over again, and one day you find yourself completely and utterly spent?? Exhausted. Weak.

And when I say you, I mean me.

Because this is me.

So tired. So spent. Unable to pick anything up, let alone a cross.

And I bet this is also you.

So tired. So spent from the trials you bear, only known to you. Unable to pick up another cross.

Perhaps your child is sick. Or you just lost your home. Perhaps your business or marriage is failing. Or you’re struggling with a situation that will never seem to resolve. Maybe it’s something that looks less on the outside but just as heavy on the inside. The valley of tears, in real time. The narrow way halted by the inability to keep walking it.

I see you. It’s hard to go on sometimes.

From strong to weak…

I’ve felt it coming for a while, myself.

You see, I used to be so “strong.” I’d eat the daily bread of tears and then let God make them loaves of diamonds. Except now, I think I’ve spent all my energy, my strength, and my nervous system on the trials of life thus far and now it seems I have nothing left to lean on.

When the wind blows, I topple over quite easily.

I mean, I get it. I’m not special for my hardships endured, but I have been through a lot. There are things I have shared - namely health issues, the sudden loss of bearing children at the hands of an incompetent doctor, the brain cancer diagnosis in my late husband, his subsequent passing, the loss of the baby we were supposed to adopt, the loss of our business we spent 13 years building, moving too many times, and of course all the stupid things we (I) bring upon myself. And there are other just as heavy things I have not shared - situations, events, and losses that had just as much negative impact on my life. To top it off, all that was in the past. It doesn’t include the trials we’ve faced the past few years in our new lives coming together, with kids, business, and learning how to be married again to name a few.

And I share what I’ve been through because I want you to know that when I say, “I get your pain,” I actually mean it. I get it. I truly understand the narrow way you’re walking. That part is a blessing, a gift. I think I would be so stuck up and self-righteous if I wasn’t made low. I thank God for the trials because I can then help other people get to heaven, to embrace their own crosses, stay the course, and make life beautiful no matter what happens.

However, I find myself unable to do that which I preach to you in my own life anymore. Haunted by the losses of the past (which I also write about in that “emotions” piece I talked about earlier), the embracing has turned to resentment. Anger. At God. At life. Writing has been a good outlet to work this through, but I know it’s not enough. Added on top, all spiritual consolation has been gone for two years, and the desert of mind and soul feels extra dry.

And I’ve become bitter. And that’s probably why this really special person in my life called me out and said I was, in fact, not resilient anymore. Ouch. That one hurt. But I think it’s true.

Is there an answer? Let me try…

So, what does this mean and what’s a girl to do??

Honestly, I don’t know what it means but I can probably take a good guess.

When we get to the end of our rope and have literally nothing left to pull from, we have to look at both the practical and spiritual sides.

Spiritually it means that the only thing (Person) I can now lean on is God. He wants to be my only strength, the One who fixes things that makes them better. He strips us of all human means, so we see that all that’s left is HIM.

Yeah, OK, but what if I don’t trust Him?? What if I’m mad AT Him? What if I’m scared to lean on ONLY Him because what if He’s not there?

Well, I guess this is where faith comes in. And the crack of grace poking through tells me that I don’t have to trust Him quite yet or even not be mad at Him (that last piece of advice came from a priest, btw). I simply have to take my Will and choose Him. Through the anger and bitterness, I still must go to Him. Without feeling or sentiment, I must continue to pray, continue to be disciplined in my spiritual practices. Because the Saints tell us that when all seems lost (as long we were still in a state of grace), we could actually be closer to Him than ever before. And He takes our choosing through the pain and our wills that we give, and He will bless it.

Somehow, He will bless it.

And this truth is easy to follow. For, despite what’s swirling in my mind and heart, no matter the loss of past, present, or future, if I just wake up, say my prayers, do my daily meditations, attend the Sacraments, follow the commandments, and live my daily duties well in love, then I have done enough. And all will somehow be well.

And like the crossroads of life piece I wrote way back when, I truly do believe that the constant and continual choosing of God (even if we don’t like Him at that moment) when there’s nothing left to give, will render hundred-fold blessings both now but especially in the life to come.

I hope that doesn’t sound corny Because it’s not. Now that I think about it, I’ve lived that cycle numerous times: Step 1) dry, arid desolation and human weakness/enduring of horrible events leading to a collapse of ability to function, Step 2) discernment of whether to choose God or throw in the towel of faith and the practice of it, 3) End up choosing God, without any feelings attached, and 4) God comes back better than ever before…with graces and hope-filled joys.

OK, I surrender.

Now there’s the question of what to do practically. Because burnout sure doesn’t help the spiritual nor the regular life.

After times of trial, I find it important to take evaluation of the mind and body. I lived in a heightened state of stress during the months before Mike’s illness (moving, Michael changing financial firms, adopting a baby), and then during Mike’s illness as caregiver, and of course after his passing - with survival mode all I could muster. Then there was the physical and mental stress of combining lives and families and, while even the darkest moments were so beautiful, it all took a toll. I think I’m just now realizing how much I asked my body to do. She sure did hang upon that cross for a bit…

So, in addition to choosing God, I have to choose rest sometimes too. Maybe that’s not always possible, but we should do the best we can’t shut it off and out for even a few moments at a time. Alex and I have been talking about this concept of “slowing down” because it doesn’t really exist in a family of 9 (with 6 teenagers, college applications, HS sports, hormones, and running a business). So maybe it only looks like a 5 minute nap. Or maybe it’s something bigger we have to do. Not sure what that looks like yet for us…

From bitter to sweet.

When I started writing this letter, I was angry. Bitter. Defeated.

And then I started thinking of so many of you walking a road I know well: loss of everything you’ve known.

And my heart ached for your pain and suffering.

And then it was your turn to strengthen me.

For I read of a Catholic widow who lost her husband a couple years ago to brain cancer, too, and her and her four children just also lost their home in the fire.

And in my wallowing, I was convicted. Instead of complaining, I must be helping.

Then I saw a video of a Catholic family standing over the ashes of their home, singing the Regina Caeli.

And in my wallowing, I was convicted. Instead of complaining, I should be singing.

For charity and praise are the only things to really pull us out of anything. They are the sweet elixirs that coat the cross - their balm pouring over a weary body and soul.

Goodness, this time, I am the one learning the lesson in resilience - not teaching it.

So, to those who are suffering right now, I want to thank you for your offering. The fruits of your offering are the means by which God is bringing me through this measly and yet exhausting trial of mine - not to mention He is using your sufferings for so much more, too. Your deposits into the Treasury of Merit will be turned to gold, used by God to bring about miraculous endings to tragic beginnings. Just hang in there. It’ll get better, I promise.

To kind of wrap it up.

God uses our earthly experiences to strip us from everything that is not Him - something I learned about through catechism but more so something I’ve experienced on a first-hand basis. It is a painful process that many abandon along the way, and I can see why. This life can really be too much. And I’m sorry to say, it probably won’t get any easier (I have another piece coming explaining why…) and we all are going to come face-to-face with our human limitations in some way, shape, or form. This experience or realization will not only strip us of many things we hold dear (whether physical or not) but it will try us to our very core. Brought to our knees, we will have a choice to make.

1. Stay angry and bitter. And let it overtake and overshadow your life until it consumes everything in its wake (yup, it’s true)

2. Or choose Him solely with your Will, sing his praises over the ashes, and then help others however you can.

Whether at home, in the trenches of natural disaster, in the gulags, or at the grocery store, we have this choice. This choice will not only impact our own lives, but others’ as well, and should you and I persevere in partaking of the sufferings of Christ, we will also get to rejoice together when His glory is revealed.

And if you don’t believe me, take St. Peter’s word for it…words that are oddly fitting to describe the trials to befall both body and soul in the purifying fires of life.

“Dearly beloved, think not strange the burning heat which is to try you, as if some new thing happened to you; But if you partake of the sufferings of Christ, rejoice that when his glory shall be revealed, you may also be glad with exceeding joy.” 1Peter 4:13

Love, Kristine Nicole

~~~

PS: if you need some extra encouragement during tough times (like me), here are a couple other things I wrote that may help.

Resilience in Action: The art of showing up when life gets hard

Why bad things happen to good people: On the problem of evil in our lives