PLEMD

Post-Loss Exponential Multiplication Disorder

I’m not advertising this post on Facebook or anywhere else. If you’re on my mailing list, you will, of course, read about it. Feel free to not even take a look at this one.

When I write anything–this blog, Facebook posts, and books–I try to be as transparent as possible. That is certainly true in this case; but, because depression has hit and it’s possible a meltdown is looming on the horizon you may want to ignore this.

And I have coined a new mental health acronym. (I know that’s not the correct term because PLEMD does not spell a pronounceable word, but please allow it just this once.)

PLEMD. I’ve got it big time.

Rod died over 5 years ago now. That was a not-unexpectedly huge loss.

But how many have there been in the ensuing years that were somewhat less expected?

Loss of couple friendships. (1×2=2)

Loss of a person with whom I could share anything (not just my husband but others in our circle of friends). (2x let’s say 10= 20)

Loss of any chance of ever being what the world would describe as a “normal” person. Rod’s presence lent an air of normalcy to my existence. (20×2=40)

Loss of home. (40×2=80)

And with the loss of a home the opportunity to be a hostess for family gatherings. This has happened more than once, but the last one was within the last week. (80×2 so far = 160)

It is the one that has given rise to the out-of-sort feelings today.

This is a pity-party post. If you come across it when you are reading a future more upbeat or at least hopefully teaching/enlightening post, please pass it by.

But. . .

If there is anything about this post that resonates within you, know that I am praying for the fringe people, the misfits, the marginalized, all who feel like they will never truly belong anywhere.

Because we do.

Even though we can’t see it right now, Jesus loves us. Remember JLM in Euroclydon is Jesus Loves Me in Euroclydon. While it may seem like a small thing to you, what I’m going through is a Euroclydon for me. And even though I can’t feel it, I have to believe, Jesus is holding me right now.

And that means. . . Jesus is holding you.