amy’s comments on how having family res[onsibilities really made me chuckle; I’m absolutely positive that had I not had my son to raise after my painful divorce, i’d still be stuck back there in the constant tears and desire to reunite with a man who clearly WASN’T the blessing from god I originall thought him to be In fact, hindsight tells me he was rather a “trick from the enemy, a “wolf in sheep’d=s clothing, as it were. Had I not needed to go to work in order to pay the bills, I don’t think even my career, which I’ve always CHERISHED eoud have been enough to get me through those times, especially since I was also grieving my mother’s death thanks to my ex’s impeccable timing in deciding to come clean about his affair. Working was once again a necessity rather than simply a privilege and pleasure, and I had baseball/football games to attend which broadened my circle of adult relationships. There was never any question that my son would have the supportive parent he needed to complete his schooling and move ahead with his life; had that not been the case, i shudder to think of where I might be today. I so clearly remember sitting in a bowling alley one saturday morning with the mother of his best friend and cocaptain of the baseball team warching our boys throw balls. this wpman had become my dear friend, was also a Cgristian, and knew my hurt was deep, but even she (to say nothing of MYSELF) was shocked when I inexplicably burst into tears as we sat there watching our boys. I’d never experienced that sort of welling up of grief without a n identifiable precipitating event, and it was scary to say the least…I just knew I was going to end up in the hospital in a “padded room” Instead, my friend reached across, took my hands, said “R NEEDS you” and began to pray aloud with me. I was able then to collect myself, finish watching the borling competition and then drive us all to lunch and home(They lived in our neighborhood.) It was only because of my son that I had ever even MET N, and because our boys were involved in the same extra curriculars, we became closer as time went on day by weary day. Making breakfasts and suppers were tasks i’d always enjoyed, but it did indeed become, as Amy said “Someone has to do it” and there were definitely days I probably would have remained in bed had I notneeded to put my son’s needs first.

What a great interview! Of course, since I’m a long-time fan of both Amy and Vince Gill, I may not be the most objective reader/critic. Both have amazing voices and evn more amazing vocal ranges! In fact, Vince gill’s “Go Rest high Upon the Mountain is included as one of my musical preferences for my funeral; it’s such a deep piece lyrically. And IMHO expresses the difficulties of life as a depressive better than nearly any other song I’ve ever heard except perhaps Janis Ian’s “seventeen”(O know I’m dating myself here!) Because Vince’s piece combines the spiritual, however, it’s clearly more appropeiate as a funeral piece. I think it was actually originally written in honor of a singer/friend of Vince’s who died, but I can’t remember whom I guess that’s moot anyway.
I found myself nodding in agreement and having to stop myself from hollering “Hear, hear!” at my commuter screen when I read what she had to say about how responsibilities can force her to undertake a new day even when she’d much rather pull the covers back over her head. The months just prior to my painful separation and eventual divorce were extremely harrowing. My son’s father was found dead in his bed and my mother also died during that six month period. With all all the grieving I had to do, it was knowing that my son needed me to go on that enabled me to do so. Fixing breakfasts and dinners had always been enjoyable tasks for me, but they became chores. Even my career, which I’d always CHERISHED, wasn’t enough to keep me motivated! If I hadn’t had football/baseball games to attend, I think I might very well have remained in bed for months or been hospitalized in a “padded room”! Knowing that someone had to provide him (my son) with some stability was pretty much my life ring; I had for the most point pulled inside myself, drawn the blinds and locked the door.
I clearly remember sitting in a bowling alley one Saturday morning with the mother of his best friend/co-captain of the baseball team watching the boys throw balls. N, who was also our backyard neighbor and I had gotten pretty close due to our respective sons’ involvement in the same extra-curriculars. She was/is also a believer although we didn’t attend the same congregation. As such, she was appalled at my ex’s decisions in light of his preaching role.(by the way, Wisdum, Preacher/teachers ARE held to a higher standard biblically! See James 3:1 and its cross references). Anyway, as we sat there cheering on our sons, I suddenly without warning (to myself OR “N.”) burst into tears! And I mean BURST, not a soft-just-tears-running-down-my-face kind of episode. Now I’ve had to learn through the years that there are SAFE PLACES TO LOSE IT AND PLACES THAT AREN’T SO SAFE, and believe me, smack dab in the middle of a crowded bowling alley on a saturyday morning wasn’t on the former list! N., however, took it in stride, reaching across the table to take my hands before offering a prayer. In answer to her query, I could only shake my head since I was so out of touch with my feelings that Ihad been ambushed and had no conscious idea what was going on in my heart. Finally I managed to force my tongue around the words, “I don’t know WHAT’S wrong with me! I just feel so hopelessly lost that I don’t think I can go on!” My friend reassured me that I could even though my “plate was pretty full” if for no other reason than the fact that my son needed me. by the time the boys were finished with their second game, I had managed to pull myself together enough to drive us all home. To this day I honestly believe that my son’s needs were what saved me from completely disappearing into the black hole for good. There’s something to be said for knowing that “Somebody has to do it,” as Amy worded it. I think that was the first time I actually feared that my entire smotional and spiritual being was at risk and that this abandonment on top of everything else was going to be the straw that broke my back. My ex had me so convinced that his infidelities were MY fault because I was simply so unlovable that no one could have been faitful to methat I had less self-esteem than I’d EVER had. (And I’d never had much of it in the first place, believe me!) The following Monday I found myself a new therapist who worked with me tirelessly throughout the following two and a half years until the divorce became final, but again, I doubt I could have been proactive enough to do that for my own sake. It was concern about my ability to meet my son’s needs (Emotional AND physical); that’s what prompted me to act. So I completely relate to her talking about forcing herself to get out of bed to fix breakfast for her blended family There is absolutely NO doubt in my mind that without the proper professional assistance I wouldn’t have survived that period emotionally, spiritually OR (even perhaps) physically.(It was also when an antidepressant was first diagnosed) I honestly can’t recall feeling suicidal, but I definitely wanted to die rather than “lose” my husband and dealing with the trauma of my mother’s death was already laying mw fairly low.
Back on subject. Thank you, Therese, for providing us with a link to this interview; it’s nice to know that even someone as obviously “loveable” as Amy Grant has walked some of the same roads I still stumble on weekly (maybe even daily!) I’ve not been without a therapist for any amount of time since then, and doubt that I ever will be, but the quality of my life is so much better when I’m in someone’s care that it’s worth it.

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