Something I’ve learned parenting twice exceptional kiddos is that behavior has only four functions. We want access to tangible things. We want attention. We seek sensory stimuli. We want to escape/avoid. That’s it. Those are the reasons we do what we do.
Is this an over simplified paradigm? Yes! Is this a helpful paradigm? Yes! It has helped me understand that a lot of what motivates me to do what I do is because I crave escape. Life is sad and heavy. This week alone has held the one year anniversary of the tragic death of a family friend, the birthday of my late father-in-law who we’ve been deeply missing for the last four years, September 11th, a school shoot in Evergreen Colorado, and Charlie Kirk’s assassination. It’s too much. I’m an extremely empathetic person. It doesn’t take much to get me sobbing in the shower, in the pick-up line at school, or when I’m folding laundry. I’m also an anxious person. It doesn’t take much for me to start spiraling into immobilizing fear, panic, and insomnia.
Processing events and how they impact me and mine is something that takes time, and it’s something I prefer to do privately. I respect grief, even if I wish I never had any reason to know it. I understand fear. I feel so much anger. I despair. I try to hold onto hope. And I’ve blogged about this before, but I’ll share again now because the words bring me comfort. My hope is rooted in the belief that one day, it’ll be okay. I don’t understand how, but I know it will be. And on that day I’ll sprint into the arms of my brother, Jesus, and bear hug him. And he will wipe away all my tears (Revelations 7:17).
Until that day, I take comfort in the story of Lazarus. I know that it is okay to be sad and angry. I know it is okay to ask Jesus as Mary and Martha did, “Where were you? If you were here, our brother wouldn’t be dead!” I know it’s okay to cry. Jesus is crying with us (John 11:35).
Okay, circling back to choices. I frequently make the choice to avoid and escape. There is a time and there is all kinds of good spaces for confronting the heavy, the sad, the tragic, but I decided to make my writing a place where escaping into happily-ever-afters is okay. Because on weeks were I feel myself spiraling, sometimes the only thing I can do to keep going is escape. I make a choice to avoid unpacking the events of the moment for a bit of comfort and selfcare. Is it a distraction? Yes. Is it helpful? Yes. Does it mean that I have a bit more hope to bring with me when I do need to talk to my kids about abhorrent violence and devasting tragedy? I don’t know, but it is the only way I can face those conversations sometimes.
I recently rejoined Instagram, but before I started posting I wrote a personal policy statement for my social media use. I’m going to quote from it now:
“Amy only posts content on Instagram related to her books, blog, collaborations, or what she’s reading. Amy believes in compassion, kindness, happily-ever-afters, empathy, learning, whimsy, and cookies. Amy strives to produce content that reflects her values.”
My writing is very much a reflection of my values, and it is also my safe escape. I’m going to keep using it as such. I know that a lot of authors have figured out how to use their platforms to talk about lots of others things besides, and I love that for them. I support that for them. I hope that my decision to use my writing as an escape will be similarly supported and understood. It’s not avoiding–it’s choosing to conserve my energy for confronting these tragedies as a mother, a wife, and a private person IRL. It’s making sure I have a safe space while the storm is raging.
If you are grieving and struggling this weekend or any weekend, you are not alone in your grief or your struggle. It is okay to process the hurt, the grief, the anger, the injustice, the struggle, however which way you need to. At times I have found tremendous comfort and healing by discussing my grief with a mental health professional (a licensed therapist). At times I have found tremendous comfort and healing through written words–both sacred(which I cited above) and secular(Austenland by Shannon Hale is one of my favorites). At times there was no comfort or healing, there was only sadness and despair. We talk a lot in our house how feelings are temporary. They rise and recede like ocean tides. Stay safe, make a plan, and ask for help if this is where you are right now. Sending hugs and hoping with all that is in me for a brighter tomorrow.