Have you ever found yourself in a moment where your feelings just don’t line up with what you thought you would feel? Maybe you expected to grieve deeply, but all you feel is numb. Or you “should” feel happy, but there is a quiet ache that won’t go away. It can be really difficult to process and sit with; it can bring with it guilt and confusion.
I have felt the tension of this so many times in my life. One of the most impactful of these events has been the loss of my mother. She passed when I was 24 years old due to complications from alcoholism. My mom was an amazing mom. She loved so deeply and was loved by everyone who knew her. She struggled, but it never made her angry, aggressive, or unkind. Her addiction didn’t turn her cruel; it just wore her down in ways no one could fix. Losing her definitely hurt, but it didn’t feel how I thought it would. I expected overwhelming waves of grief that would knock me off my feet. But mostly, I felt numb. Sometimes I felt a strange sense of peace too. For years I wondered: What’s wrong with me? Am I detached? Am I broken for not crying the way I thought I should? Years later (and some therapy) I know it doesn’t mean I didn’t love her enough. I doesn’t mean I am cold or unfeeling. It just means my heart did what it needed to carry me through, but I still have to fight the feeling of guilt at times. I often worry that others will see my “faulty” heart and think I am callous, and remnants of the guilt start to resurface.
More recently (and less intense), I have felt the same emotional confusion. My older girls just visited from up north for a few days, and I truly love when they visit. The closeness, the laughter, the way my younger kids light up around them. It fills my momma heart right up. There are endless smiles, sweet moments, and connections that remind me just how much love we have built. And yet, after a while, a quiet sadness crept in. At first, I didn’t even know what was off. I just feel unsettled. Conflicted. Out of sorts. It’s not until I paused and really paid attention that I began to understand what was going on. It’s important for the pause to include asking God for guidance. Psalm 139:23-24 and Proverbs 4:23 are great reminders. In the past, I wasn’t very good at taking the pause. I would misidentify what I was feeling and attach it to the wrong things. I might have assumed I was jealous, or that I felt insignificant in my kids’ lives. The truth is, I do know my presence matters deeply to them, I am their safe place, their anchor and their everyday love, but I also sometimes wish I brought the same kind of spark the big girls do. Over the years I have had plenty of practice and grace. I am learning to name it more accurately. What I actually felt was the quiet ache of missing the quality time I normally get with my younger kids when it’s just us. Their rhythm changes when the big girls visit (in a good way), but it shifts the dynamics. And while I am so thankful for the joy their sisters bring, my heart still notices the loss of the small moments when they would look to me for connection. It doesn’t mean anything is wrong. It just means I am feeling something real, and I remind myself: this interruption from our normal routine is a gift (for all of us). The laughter, the bonding, the memories made, they matter. And sooner than I knew the girls returned to their homes, the house went quiet(er) and the ache of missing the quality time with my younger ones was replaced with the normal weight of missing my older girls.
It’s a strange thing, feeling grateful and sad in the same breath. But that is part of being human. Sometimes it’s not what we are feeling is “wrong”, sometimes it’s just many things at once, and that can be confusing. Joy mixed with loss. Peace mixed with longing. Contentment sitting next to insecurity. I have learned that none of these feelings are wrong. God gave us every emotion for a reason, even the heavy and uncomfortable ones. There is no neat box marked “good” or “bad”. Just a heart trying to be honest. That is why I love this reminder: Feelings are meant to be indicators not dictators. They show us what’s happening inside, but they don’t get to run the show. They can guide us toward what needs tending and healing, but they don’t get to tell us who we are or how we should love. They can help us notice and process, but they do not get to have the final word.
Maybe part of grace is letting our feelings be what they are, unfinished, messy, mixed, while remembering they don’t rule us. Maybe it’s trusting that God isn’t disappointed by our contradictions or numbness and quiet aches. He just wants to sit with us in it all and remind us that we’re still loved. If your feelings don’t match your moment right now (speaking to myself now too), or if they are tangled and contradictory, I hope you know you are not failing at love or faith or motherhood. You are alive, complex, HUMAN, but above all; held by a God who sees it all and stays close. Take a deep breath. Be gentle with yourself. Let your heart be honest today. Let your feelings inform you, not rule you. And remember you are still so loved.