These are valid questions, but...

Are you committed to the response or just being cordial?

When people ask me how I’m doing, I truly believe there is care in the inquiry. But I struggle to trust they have enough capacity

• For my answer.

• For the ongoing weight of my grief and how to co-carry it… or not.

• For the intrusive, tearful outbursts that can shift the atmosphere without notice.

• For the silence that they’ll inevitably endure as I live mostly in my head.

• For the fact that, by living an internally noisy life, I may miss their questions entirely.

When people ask me what I need? I don’t know what to say anymore. The depth of grief, insecurity, and ignorance I have reached is cavernous. Down here, my thoughts echo louder than encouragement; So frequently that they often fade to white noise, scoring my stares off into space.

My thoughts are accusatory. Often saying things like:

• Wtf was you gon do with another baby when you can't handle the first two?

• You must have heard God wrong about this kid so how can you trust yourself to hear Him properly ever again?

My thoughts are also contradictory.

• I need space and companionship.

• I need to be distracted from grief and I need to intentionally focus on grieving.

• I need communal prayer and for everyone to stop talking.

Which, in turn, makes ME want to stop talking. Because really….

• What is the point of expending my limited energy reserves to leave people as confused as I am?

• Where is the safety in being vulnerable with more people who don't understand me?

• Why make anyone feel more bonded to me in this season where “friendship” feels like the ultimate gag; Like the practical joke I wasn’t invited to be in on?

• Why draw anyone in to want more when I feel emotionally lonlier and more fragile than ever. When I'm battling to be open and make myself available.

The week my baby was supposed to be born, I found myself having one of the worst panic attacks of my life; To the point of choking and dry heaving alone in the darkness of my bedroom. Since that day, the smallest inconveniences have been cracking the levies I repeatedly patch up. One week later, I was journaling in my driveway when my patchwork shattered. Pain turned to tears, tears turned to panic, panic turned to sobbing, sobbing turned to choking, choking turned to gagging and rendered me useless to do anything but cry out to God. When I almost barfed I felt compelled to compose myself.

Get it together. Hold your body. Take a deep breath and blow it out slowly. Swallow. You have shit to get to! There is no time for this.

It was so second nature, so muscle memory, to disregard the deep and seize the day! To bully myself “neutral”. How long have I been doing this to myself?

When was the last time I:

• took a deep breath for the sake of the fresh air and not because I was gasping for any air at all?

• looked at my children and saw their eyes instead of their endless need?

• depended on God, not a system, to manage my stress?

I cannot say.

If you want to know how I am doing...

Not well, but that is okay.

If you want to know what’s wrong...

Too many things to identify in any given conversation. But I will work my way through them.

If you want to know what you can do?

Pray and be gracious. Perform any act of service that frees me to be present with myself.

God is excavating some things and I’m not fighting the dig. But making time to look at what has fossilized there is another story. That takes intentionality, a plan, and patience. It takes a willingness to respectfully study things that may be triggering, grotesque, and painful. And who has time for all that right now?

I wrote a guide to help people name and navigate difficult emotions (dropping 2025) and there are 3 prompts that I practice for quick check-ins.

I FEEL….out of my depth. (i feel) Overwhelmed. (i feel) Like a hampster on a wheel. (i feel) Delicate.

I WISH… people would lower their expectations in this season. (i wish) I had extended, uninterrupted time and space to feel and dissect. (i wish) “friends” were more curious than accusatory when they feel wronged by me.

I AM… being pruned, refined, and experiencing trials of many kinds, but it will be worth it.

Of that much I am sure.