When your bliss gets beep-smashed.

I really have no idea what happened. No memory whatsoever. All I know is that I was left with a lingering sense of peace. I felt happy. Light. Rested. Safe. Content. I laid there in the darkness reveling in this most beautiful of moments where nothing hurt, and not a single thing weighed me down. Nothing. Really.

What the heck had I been dreaming????

Whatever it was, I want it back. If not the dream, then at least just that moment of bliss. That feeling. Let me relive it. Please.

Because it didn’t last. Those lovely moments never do, do they?

It was actually a beep that harkened the ending. I was in that sweet spot between dreaming and full wakefulness when it started blaring its obnoxiousness, beckoning reality to invade my brain … invade my peace … and smash my moment.

That beep started bringing on those layers … the ones that pile up and weigh me down.

First layer:

The beep is screaming for me to get out of bed. I have to work today. Get up. I wonder what I’m walking into when I get to the hospital? My patients. Can I keep them safe? Can I stay safe?

Second Layer:

I struggle to move. Ugh. Oh, that’s right. I have Lupus. It hates me lately. Somehow my bliss let me forget about that.

Third Layer:

My sister-in-law lost her father last night. Such shock. Untold grief. I’m awake now.

The layers then start piling up in rapid succession as full consciousness returns:

My loves are all dealing with something. Financial woes, health crises, car stuff, job stuff, house stuff, life stuff. Some are buckling under the weight of caregiving. Some are grieving from loss and trying to fit themselves into some unwelcomed new normal. Some are simply trying to keep on putting one foot in front of the other. And keep from drowning while they do it.

And there’s that friend of mine … that sweet, beautiful friend … she’s in such excruciating pain right now. I can’t get her face out of my mind.

And that widow down the street. She fell and can’t stay in her home anymore. Her sadness pierces my heart as I remember the trembling of her chin as she told us her news.

Then the world worries … the bombs, the threats, the politics. The hurricanes. Yes. There’s a monster named Irma heading straight for us right now – threatening to complicate absolutely everything. Everybody is talking about Irma. And I mean everybody. Everywhere. Constantly. They will not stop saying it.

She’s coming.

Straight for us.

Yes, she is.

I know.

Believe me.

We all know.

These thoughts all come at me – each adding their own layer. Every image bearing more weight than the last. The pile just keeps growing. Burying my beautiful, blissful moment deeper and deeper under this massive burden.

By the time I was dressed in my scrubs, I had a huge, fiery ball of anxiety in my gut. I was scared. About everything. And for everyone. Pretty much everywhere. On the whole earth.

And for some reason, it was hitting me all at that moment.

I knew I was reaching ridiculous levels with this anxiety. I was already exhausted and the day hadn’t even started yet. I needed to pull myself together. I can’t do anything about any of it. Not a single thing.

I just needed to eat my breakfast so I could choke down all those pills. They help keep me functional. Then I needed to get in my car and I needed to drive to the hospital because I needed to go take care of people. At least that was something I could DO.

I could go take care of people.

But I knew this would be pointless if I didn’t first take care of myself. I had to shed this weight. Release the burden. I didn’t need to carry all this around with me. I don’t know why I was even doing it in the first place.

I know better.

So I painfully, layer by layer, peeled away the suffocating weight and handed it all back to God. These layers are His to bear, not mine. And the Creator of the universe sure doesn’t need me to carry His burdens around for Him.

He’s still in control, people. No H-bomb, A-bomb, or even some tree-snapping, earth-scraping hurricane will ever knock him from that throne. Don’t let the uncertainty that surrounds us muffle that truth.

He’s the one thing we can absolutely always and truly count on. Our one true bliss. He will be with us, holding our hand and leading us every single step of the way. Through it all. Everything. Whatever that may be.  No matter what. He’ll be there. Let’s all help each other not forget that.

Thanks for growing with me. ❤

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11:28-30)

3 thoughts on “When your bliss gets beep-smashed.

  1. Debi, I finally had a moment to read this and I can’t tell you how deeply it touched my heart. Right to the core. As I awoke this morning, sending my sweet Dale back to South Florida, my heart was heavy with concerns for his journey back, his safety, for the physical demands of driving straight Thru since there r no rooms Anywhere, I became so anxious for him, and the Many other concerns we are dealing with. So Many serious concerns for family, for friends, and as you stated, for our world. The weight has me heavily burdened. The pain I wake up to each day limits my abilities, my drive, my passions… but Debi, your posts offer hope! You truly are an inspiration! God is using you in such a mighty way, for that, for you, I am Grateful!🙏

    Liked by 1 person

    • Oh, Angela – your words touch my heart. I’m so on-my-face thankful that something in there spoke to you and pointed you to God’s peace. Praise be!!

      This verse spoke to me this morning: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” —John 14:27

      It struck me that we think God is not answering prayers when tough times happen, but we are expecting God to care for us in the way we think He should, but we have to trust that His way is better.
      So hard to do sometimes!!

      Hang in there, my friend … I hang tightly!!! I hope you feel better soon. Thank you s much for your encouragement.


  2. Pingback: On switching out a hurricane for a pandemic. | Growing Nurse Debi

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s