Angry/Sad

Kids go through so many phases during their growing-up years. Some of mine included: drawing, creating things out of cardboard (I even made a hot air balloon for my Barbies, ok!), a deep love for animals (I wanted to be a veterinarian for a long time), dancing, writing, being very concerned for anyone who was alone in public and constantly asking my mom if people eating alone at restaurants could come eat with us (much to my chagrin her answer was always no since she was a single mom with 3 young daughters; not the ideal scenario for asking a stranger to join your table)...and the list goes on. 

Once I hit middle school though, I hit my angry phase. During my 7th grade year in particular I think I was mad every day about something: mad at my teachers, mad at having to do homework, mad at my mom, mad at my sisters, mad that I had to wear glasses. My Lord in heaven I was mad. Honestly, I always chalked this angry phase up to middle school hormones but more recently I think there was quite a bit more going on under the surface...

Last August, we also hit an angry phase with our daughter, Gwen. It was almost like a switch had flipped in her, and often she acted like a completely different child. She even started saying concerning, dark things to us in her anger. My precious, tiny 5-year-old seemed to suddenly have a dark cloud hanging over her and she was having trouble pushing it away. 

The most horrible thing about this time period was that she stopped telling us she loved us. For many months, she wouldn't say it of her own volition or in reply to us when we told her we loved her. It was completely heartbreaking. We tried many times and many ways to ask her about it, and she never could tell us why she stopped saying it or why she didn't want to anymore. We'd ask her and she'd say, "What is love? I'm not sure if I love you or not."

I can't explain what it feels like to tell your child you love them and not have them say it back. For months. Finally, I decided it was time to talk with someone about the situation. I set up a call with my counselor and, as usual, what she said hit me in a profound way. She said that anger is an offshoot emotion usually from sadness, fear, or a lack of control. 

So, if Gwen's anger was a branch, then what was the stem?

Well, in the two years leading up to this situation, Gwen had been through a tornado with damage to her home and seven subsequent moves, the COVID pandemic, bullying, having to get rid of most of her belongings including her most beloved stuffed bunny because of toxic mold exposure, a sick mother who could hardly get out of bed let alone play with her for months, and starting school for the first time. 

This would be enough trauma for one lifetime, let alone to experience in two years from the ages of 3-5 years old. 

When she started acting angry, I certainly wasn't surprised. By that point, I'd had countless angry talks with God. Countless moments of losing it in my car driving somewhere. Countless calls to friends in tears asking for prayer. 

But when she stopped saying she loved us...that was more than anger. My precious, tiny gal was trying to process trauma after trauma without the luxury of a fully-formed adult brain. Without the luxury of a counselor who could explain processing and coping tools. The only way she knew to process was to temporarily shut down. To temporarily put walls up. Her stem was probably all three: sadness, fear, and a lack of control. 

It's been 3 1/2 years since the tornado. I've done a lot of processing and worked to heal from my own trauma, but lately, I've been angry again. A couple weeks ago I noticed I'd gone back to waking up angry, moving through my day angry, and usually going to bed angry too. Then my counselor's words came back to mind: anger is an offshoot emotion. And I lost it. I just bawled my eyes out. I wasn't actually angry - I was deeply, excruciatingly sad. I was still grieving for my family's losses. For our traumas. For all that my child had to go through starting at the precious age of 3. 

Gwen eventually started telling us she loved us again. The first time she said it I cried my eyes out after I left her room because I knew she was healing. Thank God, she was healing. 

In her grief, she reacted to Joel and me not much differently than we as Christians do to the Lord. Life has some truly BRUTAL seasons, and sometimes these last way longer than we think we can bear.  We start to put our guard up. We start to doubt that we're safe with God. Our experiences can make us doubt that He actually loves us and has a good plan. Like Gwen said to us, we say to God, "What is love? I'm not sure if I love you or not."

In those early weeks of being ill, I felt God lead me to read Psalm 23 and, as often happens when reading the Word, something I've read a thousand times jumped off the page at me: though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death. The word 'through' made my heart leap. I knew God was giving me a promise that He'd walk me through my valley. Just as Joel and I were with Gwen through her valley, God was with us. He never left. Our anger didn't scare him off. Our doubts and questions didn't either. He was, and is, with us in our sadness and grief, and He's with you too. 

Have you been angry lately too? Dig deeper. Maybe there's actually sadness or grief underneath. Maybe there's fear. Maybe you feel like things are out of control. Whatever it is, God will walk with you through it to the other side.