Easter hurt this year. At least it did for me. Maybe it was because life is feeling a little too apocalyptic in the times of Covid-19. Maybe it was because Brad was sleeping in to recover from nightshift work he has added to his schedule for the hospital where he has a high exposure risk. Maybe it was because there was nowhere to dress up and go and socialize and try not to spill coffee while we hustled kids off to their respective Sunday school classrooms. Maybe it was because we didn’t get our usual Church Date in the pews of our Sunday morning home, where we could listen, and sing, and sit, and whisper during hymns without the pressures of restless kids. Maybe it was because I was sent an Easter card that used the name of Jesus to shame me for standing up for myself, and gaslighted mistreatment I have spoken out against.
Maybe Easter hurt this year because I wanted to lament. I couldn’t find the Hosannas because the grief was more potent than the joy.
If you haven’t had the time to process these past few months, I’d like to make note that we are currently living through global trauma. All of us. All of us are experiencing trauma. And the crazy part of staying at home orders, and having essential workers, and maintaining our distance means that our natural human coping skills cannot be employed to help.
There is no dropping the kids off with the grandparents to go for a coffee date. There is no showing up at your best friend’s house to watch movies on her couch and talk about nothing. There is no hugging it out with your gal pals and probably ugly crying on the couch while you eat molten hot brownies together. There is no lamenting on your therapist’s couch while she nods her head and you glance out the window to watch people walking by. There is no popping into your work colleague’s office to chat through stressors or strategies.
None of this is normal. And the added tricky part? We all process and cope with trauma differently. Let it be said, I am not a trauma expert. I’m more of a “passed Trauma 101 and sometimes forget the key components but my trauma work has showed me a lot” kind of person.
I was in the basement of a bank trying to quietly eat crackers over a tiny napkin when I read a PowerPoint slide that summed up my attachment issues as a child, and it freaked me out. I remember elbowing Brad (who was sitting next to me at this foster parent training) and said, “That. Is. Me. That’s me right there. That’s what I was like as a kid.”
It’s damning when the lightbulb goes on and you realize you have trauma in your life. It’s hard when you see your own trauma. It’s hard when you realize you’ve been through trauma and that it has shaped you.
And I can say with certainty that after this pandemic era passes and we have time to examen the pieces, this will be a new trauma to process and look for healing.
You’re probably at that point in reading where you whisper, “Geez, Maggie. This pandemic sucks. Why are you being so depressing right now?” And I feel ya. I’ve pointed out all the ways this is hard, and no one really wants to face trauma head on because it hurts and it’s uncomfortable. But I want to give direction in these strange and bewildering times:
FIND YOUR TRUTH IN THE TRAUMA.
If you are a joy-seeker and always look for the bright spots, that is incredible. Just don’t be afraid to say “This makes me sad sometimes.”
If you are bottom of the barrel sad in all that is happening, reach out to that one person that knows you and sees you and talk it out.
If you feel the pressure to mend broken relationships that hurt you in the past because we are in chaotic times, know that mending boundaries so you can stand on healthier ground is okay, too.
If you feel lost in the swirl of changes, grasp that one thing that feels solid. It could be as small as a hot cup of tea with a solid ceramic mug, or as big as a tree in the yard as you trace your fingers on the bark, or as quick as a text message fired off to the friend from college that told the best stories.
If you felt hurt on Easter this year, or are feeling the losses in this pandemic, I want to hold space for your grief. And if you felt shame because you didn’t have the kids dress up in Easter outfits, or maybe you had someone shame you by throwing faith at you like a too glossy Easter egg to the face, here is what I say:
Jesus got angry when faced with injustice. Jesus stood his ground when he saw hypocrisy. Jesus was kind, but he also knew the world wasn’t a perfect place. To pretend all was well was to deny the pain and ache and struggles of the world. I’m not Jesus. You’re not Jesus. Easter is about Jesus returning to save us all from our sins, because God is grace-filled and loves unconditionally. He is also an honest and truth-seeking father that knows all of our hearts and all of our pains.
For me, God is in the grief, God is in the hurt, God is in the questions I have for Him. He knows why I’m here, even when I don’t.
If I have learned anything from The Enneagram of Personality, or the Myers Briggs Type Indicator, or the plethora of Unpopular Opinion Game responses growing rampant on social media… it is that we are all different. We cope with hard things differently. We go to different spaces in stress. We grew up with different experiences. We are motivated by different underlying emotions. That means we are all going to need different things in different ways as we process this global trauma.
Find your truth as you work through this trauma. Speak your needs, and respect how others speak about what they need.
Holding space for an Easter season of grief, and lament, and truth,
~M