Confronting Demons in My Pajamas
Facing the truth matters — and it just might surprise you.
I often wish I was a person who took loss in their stride. A person who didn’t break quite so easily or thoroughly. But that’s not who I am.
On Saturday, I spent the day in my pajamas facing my demons.
It started with what many would consider a small loss. The baby chicks I had ordered arrived, and one died in the mail. I could face that loss. There was nothing I could do. But in the next 24 hours, four more died. Nothing I did seemed to do anything more than provide momentary comfort and delay the inevitable.
I did what I do. I put on a brave face. I did the next thing that needed to be done. I buried the babies and then helped my dad finish up building the coop and run for those remaining. I kept going. But later, in the privacy of my home and in my pajamas, I fell to pieces. The loss hit like waves, and I was drowning.
I had to confront my demons, and no one could help me.
I had to look at loss and accept it even as it broke my heart. What’s troubling is that I never seem to experience a singular loss. It’s always compounded by the layers of loss in my life. Five tiny lives gone is a…
