The little things…

Something that became a fast lesson for me after Enoch died was that the little things really don’t matter.  First of all because grief wipes out all physical and emotional energy, and you genuinely can’t give, do, or care about as much as you once did.  And then in light of the tragic events of your life, you realize how meaningless so much of it is anyhow.

Suddenly you really don’t care that your wearing the same pants, work out pants no less, every single day.  Almost all articles of clothing are acceptable in public, and showering is now optional.  Make up?  What is that?

Once you’re in public you care significantly less that you just cut a person off on the highway.  Saying, “Hi” to the peppy lady who greets you when you walk in a store is optional.  You no longer feel bad avoiding the question, “How are you?” from any sales associate you come across.  “I’m awful because my baby died” is more than they can handle, especially the 16 year old kid at the check out of Acme.

Every interaction seems like it takes 100 times more physical and emotional energy, whether it is with  the stranger who happens to start chatting with you while waiting in line or your close friends and family.  So beyond the trivial interactions with strangers and people on the outskirts, I’ve realized this also applies to more of my meaningful relationships.

Because I have no emotional energy, I have no room for petty arguments.  The truth is I’m out of energy.  Do people say or do things that hurt my feelings or frustrate me?  Yes.  Did they before Enoch?  Yes.  Have they since Enoch?  Yes.  The difference is, that with little emotional energy to expend, it makes most of those situations non-existent.  When something happens, my question is “Was their heart to intentionally hurt me?” If the answer is no, I move on.  If something is a repetitive pattern or situations they don’t realize is hurtful, it results in a short honest conversation.

The truth is with almost any situation listed above, from cutting someone off in traffic to someone doing something that frustrates me, I usually think “My baby died. Who cares?”   In light of life and death, in light of very little energy, I am able to see how small the small things are.

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