This season has been one of limited bandwidth and emotional overwhelm. My fiancé and I have navigated getting engaged, planning a wedding, losing my brother to addiction, looking for new jobs, and slowly moving into the apartment that we’ll share soon. If that sounds like too much, that’s because it is. Each day feels like a minefield, and we may or may not make it across in one piece.

There are occasional miracles of laughter and hope, but there are also a whole lot of nights of fitful sleep and second-guessing the quietness that comes after a crisis.

Grief and financial stress and exhaustion are not great for morale.

As someone who is typically joyful and marked by a lightness I carry with me, I’ve been surprised to look in the mirror and often wonder who I’ve become. I have had to grieve the way this season is aging me. I don’t bounce back as quickly. I don’t let things roll off my back as easily. I don’t rush to fill up my schedule with coffee and lunch dates with friends. I feel myself sitting down more than I’m standing. I feel less shiny and fun and carefree. I dream about funerals and loss and sinking ships.

I know that these weights aren’t going to pull me down forever, but I certainly feel the ways they are dragging me under today.

I’ve been sad and angry and impatient and insecure in ways I’ve never known before. And if I’m honest? Sometimes, I don’t care what it’s doing to the people around me. I know there’s plenty of grace to go around in a time like this, but that doesn’t mean I can let my emotions have free reign in destructive ways.

To be clear, I believe there’s a place for the big emotions living in my head and heart these days. I believe that there’s nothing wrong with pulling a sweatshirt out of the dryer and feeling a knot in my throat. Plenty of times I have heard a song or been in the middle of a beautiful drive and suddenly missed my brother so sharply I could hardly breathe.

We are made to feel a full spectrum of emotions, and having feelings isn’t a bad thing!

In fact, it is good and healthy to be extra tender in hard seasons. While it may feel more like a curse than a gift, every time we cry or process negative emotions with someone, it’s actually helping us heal. We have to make our way through our hard feelings. Bottling them up or ignoring them can create more problems later. That said, letting them spill over in a reckless way can be an issue.

Here’s what I mean: Years ago, a friend shared some wise words that keep coming to mind lately. She said,  “I’ve been thinking about what it’s like to be on the receiving end of me.”

Her words were genuine and thoughtful, and they hit me right in the chest. Because while I can be a fun and enjoyable person, I have a whole lot of shortcomings. I can be selfish and unkind and impatient. And when that part of me comes out of my mouth or takes over my attitude? I’m not a joy to receive.

After my brother died this spring, at first I excused my poor behavior or attitude on the basis of grief. And maybe it was fair here and there to do so. But lately, I find myself leaning into that excuse a bit too much. I get short with my fiancé. I get impatient with strangers who cut me off in traffic or don’t move fast enough. I can feel my inner Karen come out over really small things at the store.

When I slow down at the end of a long day and unwind into the familiar rhythms of bedtime, I replay my day — and lately I’ve been met with conviction over the times I was not “slow to anger” like Scripture encourages in James 1:19: “Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to anger.”

In fact, I’ve allowed my grief to make excuses for why this passage of Scripture doesn’t apply to me. Can I be that honest?

I don’t think we set out to fall into a pattern of sin or spiritually stunting behaviors. I don’t believe we wake up one day and say, “I think I’ll be a bad friend” or “I think I’ll pick a fight with someone I love for no reason except for the fact that my anger needs some place to go.” But in vulnerable seasons, it’s all too easy to let those feelings spill into more space than they should.

It’s not always cut and dry, and I still mistake the anger of grief for the anger of a moment, but I remind myself that I can hand all of it to God.

I can come to Him and ask, “What’s it like to be on the receiving end of me?” and trust that in love, He will convict my heart. Not condemn it or fill it with shame, because that’s not part of our identity as followers of Jesus. But in love, God will bring conviction that says, “Whoa, there. Let’s be careful on this part of the path.”

And even in grief, His guidance will keep moving me forward.

 

Listen to Melissa’s devotion here or wherever you stream podcasts.

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