A Little Longer

August 14th. That was the date of the last blog I posted. Honestly, I haven’t felt like writing. This last year has been a deep dive into the search for who I am in this season of transition and loss. It’s not that I “dove in,” but rather I was “thrown into” the deep end. Let me back up and give you more context.

For those of you who have followed this blog, you know my story. Well, at least the parts of it that I’ve let you into. For those who may read this blog but know nothing about why I started it, I encourage you to read the first few blogs. I began writing for two reasons. First, I felt that telling my story might be of some benefit to others struggling with grief and disappointment. Second, for me, writing has always been cathartic. I have found it healing—until this last year.

Up until two years after we lost our daughter, I thought I was doing well. Our ministry was growing beyond our expectations, I had written a book, and our family seemed to be slowly putting our lives back together. Then, other, non-related, situations started to happen, and all the pain and disappointments came flooding back into my life. The biggest problem was that I didn’t understand what was going on. I couldn’t put my finger on why I was having a hard time getting out of bed every morning. I knew, deep down, that it was related to my grief, but I thought I was “over that.” It’s been over four years—I should’ve moved on by now, right?

After I wrote Shattered: Finding Hope and Purpose in the Midst of Disappointment, I started this blog. I began writing about my journey in hopes that it would help others going through their own struggles and pain. I received so many emails, messages, and comments about how people were blessed by my vulnerability and transparency. At the time, I felt that I was doing well—that I had “turned the corner,” so to speak. But there was still this aching and this void that I couldn’t identify. I had a few people pull me aside and tell me that they were concerned I wasn’t “moving on.” So, I spent most of my efforts trying to “get on with my life,” to move past the tears and the pain. I kept telling myself, “You should be doing better by now.” I would look at others walking through similar circumstances and compare myself to them. They seemed to be doing so well. I thought, “Why can’t I be strong enough?”

The other day, I heard a song that really spoke to me. The lyrics are:

I am unfolding
I am not holding on
Shattered in pieces
I am the broken one
If you only knew the chaos inside my head
Wish that I could run but I’m just not ready yet

Just let me hurt a little longer
I’m in a war with no armour
Need to cry an ocean before I’m stronger
Just let me hurt a little longer
Just let me hurt a little longer

Don’t need a rescue
Don’t want a lifeline
I need to crumble
Cannot save me this time
Used to think that being brave just meant moving on
Now I sink into the pain until it’s all gone.

Just let me hurt a little longer.

—*Emily Rowed. “Just Let Me Hurt”*

Now, of course, I don’t subscribe to every emotional response in this song, but I am moved by its premise: just let me hurt a little longer. In our attempt to “get people through the pain,” I feel like we circumvent the process. We’re in such a rush to return to normal that we forget that, in most instances of extreme disappointment or grief, our “normal” has died. There is no resurrecting the past, especially when a person close to you is gone or when you have suffered trauma. The goal should be to move towards something new—a new “normal.” That takes time and it’s painful. It involves letting go of something that was familiar and embracing something that is not.

Everyone is different. Everyone processes trauma and pain differently. I’m learning that I need more time. It’s not a sign that I’m weak or that I’ve failed; it’s just who I am. I needed to hurt a little longer. Instead, I straightened my shoulders and I’ve tried to “carry on.” I kept telling myself, “Everything is going to be okay.” But it wasn’t. I started “leaking” my pain every time I faced something else that was hard or painful. Also, in the attempt to recover quickly and get back on my feet, I never really addressed my issues with God. The truth? I’m still angry. I still struggle with His “Goodness.” Oh sure, I know He is good, but I don’t always feel it.

These are issues that cannot just be pushed aside and left to chance—we must “wrestle” with these thoughts and feelings. We have to reconcile with the reality that God is good, but maybe our circumstances are not. One does not necessarily reflect the other. This is why it’s important to let ourselves “hurt a little longer” and give ourselves time. Don’t confuse this with self-pity, isolation, or “giving up.” But sometimes, we need to let the pain do its work and lead us toward our healing.

Closing Thoughts:

The Christmas season can be especially difficult for those who are struggling with loss and disappointment. Our family understands this. It’s easy to get carried away by the pain. But it doesn’t need to stay that way. As I continue this journey, I’m embracing the reality that healing isn’t linear and that it’s okay to take the time I need. By allowing myself to fully experience and process my pain, I am finding a path toward true healing. Embracing the pain doesn’t mean living in suffering and darkness. Instead, I find that alongside moments of sorrow, incredible new memories of joy and laughter are being created. It’s a roller coaster journey of ups and downs that leads to true healing and a place where we find a new normal.

Admittedly, I’m not there yet.

To anyone reading this who feels the same way—know that you’re not alone. It’s okay to hurt a little longer. It’s okay to seek support and to take the time you need to heal. Together, we can move towards a new normal, one step at a time.

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“To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven—a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn and a time to dance.”
—Ecclesiastes 3:1,4

Have you experienced moments of unexpected joy amidst your struggles? I’d love to hear your stories below.

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If you found my story helpful, you might be interested in reading my book, Shattered: Finding Hope and Purpose in the Midst of Disappointment, where I delve deeper into my journey of grief and healing.