Fighting off the Weepies

I am fighting the weepies today.  It’s officially been 3 months and 8 days since I took off from McCarran Airport to LAX, and then on to Abu Dhabi.  I felt a little anxious for the first couple of weeks or so, and daily questioned, “What have I done???”, but I managed to ride that out and settle into a new normal.  I kept busy with my schoolwork, started making some new acquaintances in some of the women’s groups, started a quilt, started transitioning from working girl to expat wife and I thought I was doing ok.  The past several  days I have just had “that feeling”… that feeling where you feel yourself slipping into a funk, not entirely sure why.  Knowing I need to snap out of it soon before it gets away from me.

So I sat down to my sewing table this morning, and thought I’d listen to some Christian music to soothe my heart a bit, and put on a playlist that I haven’t listened to in a year or two… this is the first song… and then the floodgates opened. 

My Nest   (by Janice Kapp Perry)

The day has come for you to go
I've watched you closely so I know
I recognize your restlessness
It's time for you to leave the nest

I've taught you much of what you know
It's been a joy to see you grow
You fluttered first, then learned to fly
While I was flying by your side

A part of me
will fly away
As you leave my nest today
But part of you
will stay with me
You will always be a welcome guest
Within my nest

You've had brief chances to explore 
That left you eager to see more
You've taken tiny solo flights
but always close within my sight
Enjoy the rhythm of your wings
the freedom soaring always brings
But in that endless span of sky
be careful where you choose to fly

A part of me
will fly away
As you leave my nest today
But part of you
will stay with me
You will always be a welcome guest
Within my nest

I'm trusting you now
to the Father's care
for when any sparrow falls
He is aware
Aware

A part of me
will fly away
As you leave my nest today
But part of you
will stay with me
You will always be a welcome guest
Within my nest

I am grateful to have been so blessed
To have sheltered you
in my nest

So is this what is bothering me?  That I am over 8,000 miles from 4 precious, responsible, independent young adults and am I mourning the loss of a nestful of kids?  It hasn’t been that long ago that I was a hands-on mom.  It’s been almost 4 years… Or is it that I miss mountains and pine trees?  Or being able to be a 4 hour drive from my parents?  Or maybe because I’m not gainfully employed anymore and the hard work I expended on the job is not going to account for much the farther away my last day at work gets from today… maybe it’s a combination of all of it.  Maybe it’s just been a long, long time since I had a good long cry and my tear ducts needed to know if they’re still operating properly.  And yes, I miss my family something fierce and my heart hurts not being there.

Rather than wallow, I thought I’d feel better if I wrote this down.  Get it out of my system.  Deep breaths and shoulder rolls.  Now I’ll pick up that quilt and get back to work on it – if a tear or two drops on it it’s just a way to physically infuse it with a little more love. 

There’s a scripture in the Doctrine and Covenants, that says, “…Wherefore, lift up thy heart and rejoice, and cleave unto the covenants which thou hast made.” (D&C 25:13)

Gordon B. Hinckley said this about that scripture: “I believe he is saying to each of us, be happy.  The gospel is a thing of joy.  It provides us with a reason for gladness.  Of course there are times of sorrow.  Of course there are hours of concern and anxiety.  We all worry.  But the Lord has told us to lift our hearts and rejoice.  I see so many people, including many women, who seem never to see the sunshine, but who constantly walk with storms under cloudy skies.  Cultivate an attitude of happiness.  Cultivate a spirit of optimism.  Walk with faith, rejoicing in the beauties of nature, in the goodness of those you love, in the testimony which you carry in your heart concerning things divine.”

The sense of calm I feel as I focus on these words is almost palpable.  Where’s my pincushion?