“What brings you in today?”

“I think I have caregiver burnout…” my counselor patiently waited for me to continue. 

“ I have 9 out of the 10 symptoms.”  This was official. I was on the couch, saying the words to a professional therapist. These words had only been uttered to a few close family members and friends. Sitting here, on this worn, cognac, leather sofa, surrounded by beautiful art, essential oils filling the air while calm, meditative music played in the background, it was official. I could not take the words back. They hung in the air waiting for validation.

“That makes a lot of sense, Heather.” Confirmation. The professional did not think I was crazy, she did not dismiss or explain away why I was feeling the way I was feeling. “Tell me more.” She encouraged. I began to share and slowly the tension in my chest that had built up during the drive to her office began to dissipate. She continued to ask questions and I continued to talk. The more I thought about her questions and explored what it was like to put words to feelings trapped in my body the calmer I felt. I was understood by someone who had years of education and experience both personally and professionally and for some reason that helped me not feel crazy. I had shared these same things with my husband and close friends. I had been received in the same way that my counselor was receiving me, with grace and compassion. But this was different. She held an authority and expertise in what I was walking through so when she said, “that makes sense…” the shame that was trying to hold on, loosened its grip. The power of gracious authority releases the captives, in this case, me. 

After I talked for awhile she said, “Heather, you are in the valley.”

“That’s for sure.” I joked. 

“Let me draw something for you that may help.”  She took out a piece of blank paper and proceeded to draw a rough sketch of a valley, it reminded me of a giant, cursive letter U.  

“There are many stages to going through the valley of grief. This is not a clear cut journey, this is a messy journey where you can be triggered by something that will send you to a previous stage that you thought you had worked through. This journey requires you to receive the grace of God and to be kind to yourself. Don’t push it, take this one step at a time. You will want to beat yourself up for “reverting.” Sometimes you have to go backward in order to go forward.” She explained. 

She slid the giant cursive U onto the oval coffee table in between us and rolled her chair to scooch closer to my cozy spot on the couch. She wrote at the top left side of the U “tormented hope.”  

“The valley begins with a sense of tormented hope. There is a sense of possibilities and options despite terrible circumstances.” I nodded remembering those days at the beginning of Finley’s diagnosis. 

“Next  anxiety tends to set in.” She wrote in “anxiety” under “tormented hope.”

“These are followed by depression, denial and guilt. Self blame can really burn deep in this part of the valley.” 

“Yes it does.” I affirmed. Each word she wrote seemed to jump off the page as I instantly was taken back in my memory of experiencing each one time after time.

“Next, anger and bitterness set in. It is common for at any point to be triggered by an event, a memory, a thought and you can easily go back to previous stages of the valley. Also, it is during this time it is common to lose friendships as we can turn into different people when we are grieving. This relational loss can be devastating and can be one of the causes to cycle back through.”

Her pen had filled in the entire left side of the valley as well as the low part. I felt growing anticipation as her pen hovered over the right side of her valley drawing. I desperately wanted to get out of this place and I hoped to find some answers on the other side of that pen scrawl. 

“Next there is a phase of acceptance, which tends to come in the form of practical relief. This can look a lot of different ways depending on the situation.” She continued to write in each word along the upward curve of the valley.  “ The next phase is surprising as it is another phase of depression.” She paused to allow the words to set in. 

“Dangit.” My heart sank a little.  

“I know that doesn’t make sense, but that is common.” She drew connecting lines between the words she had written at the lower right side of the valley and the left. 

“It is helpful to know that it is very normal to be sent back to what feels like the beginning. When this happens, embrace grace. The valley can be full of shadows and uncertainty, but it is also a place where God wants to give you treasures-gifts of deep compassion and relationship that only comes through going through the valley.”

I drank in her words. From the beginning of our special needs journey my prayer has been that our grief would turn into grace, that our pain would turn into purpose and that God would be glorified through it all. I took a breath and shared…

“In seeing this diagram, I’m pretty sure that I have gone back a few times.” 

“Ok, good. Let’s keep going…next there can be a season of new friends coming a long side. Followed by what I like to call the Revival phase.” My ears perked up. This is what I was waiting for. Hope. “The revival phase is when you begin to see how you can help others who are in a similar boat to you. This is when you will see the purpose in what you have walked through. This is not the end, but it is a new beginning. Again, it is normal to be even out of the valley and to be thrown back in depending on life circumstances…What do you think about this?”

She pushed the rough valley sketch full of words that resonated with my experience and gave me a hope that I would not be in this place forever. 

“This is very helpful. This gives me hope. I feel like I can see that even though I don’t feel like I am making progress, according to this, I am. And it is so helpful to know that even when I feel like I’m going backward, that is part of going forward.”

“Yes. That’s right. This is a messy journey but God is with you every step of the way.” 

I left feeling lighter and assured of God’s love for me despite nothing changing at all. He was with me, even when I could not see him or feel him or hear him. The valleys of life can stretch on for years, I know mine have. I can yearn for results, answers, progress, anything to validate all the energy I pour in, I want  my version of confirmation, that it’s worth it somehow, someway. I can feel desperate for results, for a finish line, for the miracle that I want rather than enjoying the miracle that is in front of me today, right now. The valley does not work that way. It is a beast all it’s own, only to be tamed and to be full of purpose by the One who walks with us through it, the One who holds us when we feel completely alone, the One who sings over us during fitful nights of unsatisfying sleep, the One who intercedes for us day and night, the One who collects every tear and hears every angry or sad or desperate prayer. The road is long but by the grace of Jesus, we will make it-bit by bit, coming out of the other side of the valley in revival, not always free of the pain but relishing and living in the purpose and plan that God has in the midst of the pain, creating something beautiful out of the brokenness of our lives. 

……..

“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.” Psalm 23:4 (ESV)

“And I will give you treasures hidden in the darkness-secret riches. I will do this so you may know that I am the Lord, the God of Israel, the one who calls you by name.” Isaiah 45:3

• burnout
• Grief
• hope
• journey
• Specialneeds
• Throughthevalley