Tiffany Uncaged

I get it. People can be savage, selfish, and downright awful.

Marriage isn’t for everyone; I get and respect that wholeheartedly.

I get that people get married with hopes of spending forever with their person, and despite best efforts, sometimes it doesn’t work. Or can’t work. Sometimes it’s absolutely necessary to leave.

My heart right now is just to put out into the universe- marriage can be an absolute dream, too.

Sometimes we set our expectations for love based on what we see in the media and on tv. We know it’s a facade, but we’re bombarded with what “true love” looks like so often that it’s hard not measure our relationships against such standards. And when our love doesn’t look like their love, it’s easy to think ours is inferior.

I’m a talker- my husband is much quieter.

There have been times when I’ve wanted him to say something- to compliment me, to thank me, etc. When he doesn’t do what I expect or want him to do, I’ve found myself doubting his affection for me. But if I’m always wanting things my way, or to go the way I want them to, then it’s easy to miss out on him. He may not always say thank you, but he’ll straighten the house while I’m finishing bedtime with the kids so that we can relax and watch a show together. He may not always tell me I’m pretty, but he’ll look at me with “that look” and it’s clear he has eyes only for me. He may not always buy me flowers, but he’ll come home from work with food he saved for me from lunch that he knows I love.

He pays attention to seemingly small details, and it makes me feel so loved and seen when I realize he’s taken notice. He listens, and will recall to me things I need to hear that I’ve totally forgotten or missed. He loves me- both in ways that I need to be shown love, and in ways I don’t even realize I needed.

I get giddy sometimes, 15 years later (7 married years) knowing that after the kids go to bed I get to spend time with him, alone. I miss him when he’s at work. I feel honored that I’m the one that gets to take care of him when he’s sick.

Are things always perfect? Of course not- absolutely not. Sometimes we drive each other nuts, and have crap attitudes, and take advantage of each other, and I’ll feel like he doesn’t get me at all. Sometimes I want nothing more than space to just be alone.

But I’m learning that the more honest I am about my feelings, and the more we communicate, and the more I stop trying to make things look the way I think they should, the stronger we get. (And no, I’m not saying it’s always me that needs to shift my perspective- it totally goes both ways.)

I’ve heard it said that if you want a better marriage, sometimes you have to fix yourself first. That stung the first time I heard it, but 7 years later, more often than not, I’ve found that to be true. Please hear me- I’m not at all saying to be a pushover or a doormat. To be disrespected. To be abused in anyway shape or form. But I’ve found, for us, in a lot of cases where I’m dissatisfied with something, many times it’s because I’ve been trying to push my own agenda, and I’m not taking the time to see and understand him… his feelings, his opinions. He loves me- he wouldn’t intentionally keep doing something just to irritate me (well, sometimes he might, we’re human hahaha but you get the point). SO many times, if I explain to him how I’m feeling and give him a chance to assert his own feelings, we can meet in the middle. And truthfully, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve felt things needed to happen a certain way, and his way ended up being so much better.

When I first lost my sister, I was absolutely broken. We would put the kids to bed, and as insane as it sounds, I would stand in our room completely lost- no clue what to do, so I’d just stand there and cry. He’d come in and ask me which room I wanted to be in- our room or the living room. Often times I didn’t have an answer, I’d just cry. He’d take my hand and wrap me in a blanket next to him on the couch and put on a show he knows I love. Or he’d tuck me into bed and just hold me and let me cry.

When I’ve struggled with panic attacks at nighttime, he doesn’t try to “talk me down” which I sometimes think I need- no, instead he’ll just lay with me and hold me; he’ll be the calm I so desperately need. Him not trying to “fix it” is exactly what fixes it.

My point is this- marriage gets a bad rep. It’s not everyone’s cup of tea. But I can truthfully tell you that the man I married makes me a better me. He completes me in a way I never knew possible. What we have may not always look like the movies, but I believe with all I have, it’s better… because it’s ours, and it’s magic. HE is magic- simply because he’s him- perfectly imperfect, authentically him.

If marriage is what you want, don’t give up on it- it can be such a safe place. Incredible people still exist.
You are every bit worthy of love, exactly as you are.

If it’s not? You know what you need to be happy and whole. Don’t fall into the trap of thinking you can’t be complete without a partner. You, too, are every bit worthy of love, exactly as you are, even if it doesn’t look like what society says it should.

As I’ve said previously, sometimes I just feel the need to be heard.
And tonight I need it to be heard that my guy is the absolutely love of my life, and I’m so thankful I get to be his wife.

The morning my sister died, I was trapped inside a tunnel.
Literally.
Mere hours before my sister would take her last breath, I was in an MRI machine struggling to breathe.

I’d been suffering from migraines for quite a while, so the morning of November 6, 2021, I had an appointment to get an MRI done to rule out a few things. (Thankfully it came back clear.)

Over the years, I’ve become extremely claustrophobic, so my neurologist prescribed me 2 Valiums to take if needed to help me make it through the test. I took them both and was okay-ish- until they put me inside the machine. They gave me a little ball to squeeze in case I needed them. The moment they put me all the way in I squeezed it frantically and begged them to get me out. When they came back, I asked how long it would take, and if I recall correctly they said about 45 minutes, but if I moved it would take longer because they’d have to start over. [Remembering this now has my heart racing- claustrophobia is no joke.] They put me back inside, and I resolved myself to not move a muscle.

The scan started up and I began to panic knowing I couldn’t get out. I said a little prayer… I tried to focus on the lyrics to some worship songs I love… I tried deep breathing and telling myself I was safe and that this would be over soon- that I could do hard things. Nothing was working. Eventually, in almost full panic mode, I started saying in my head, over and over and over again, in sheer desperation… “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus”. I kept repeating it, over and over again, and I tried with all my might to turn my full attention on Him and not the buzzing sounds and tightness of the space I was in.

Soon after, this “picture” came to me [God often speaks to me through pictures in my mind]: I could envision Dylan in my position on the MRI table, terrified, and me sitting there beside him with my hand on his leg, reassuring him, “It’s okay, I’m right here… I’m right here. Just focus on me… I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere”. I’ll do anything in my power to comfort my children when they’re scared, and often times just knowing they’re not alone is enough. In that moment it hit me like a ton of bricks, and I kept saying, over and over to myself, “It has to be you, Jesus… it’s only you… It has to be you.” Nothing man made was working to calm me down- but focusing my attention on Him, calling out to the One who loves and cares for me most, settled me. I’d get to a point where I thought to myself “I’m okay, I got this”, and instantly I was hit with the awareness of how suffocating that tube was and how overwhelming the sounds around me were. So I’d turn my focus back to Him… “Jesus, Jesus… it has to be you Jesus.”

I left there with such a deep and fresh revelation of His kindness- that He cares so deeply for me- that if I call on Him He will answer.

Just a couple short hours later, my sister would be called Home.

As we sat next to her lifeless body in the hospital room, I was [needless to say] in shock. Devastated is almost an insulting word to use- I don’t have words for how painful that experience was. My mom sat next to her, crying, stroking her baby girl’s hair. My dad sat next to her, and through fits of tears, cried out to the Lord to have mercy on her soul. I sat at their feet, just sobbing. Somewhere in the middle of all that, in the middle of the hardest moment of my entire life, in the middle of feeling completely and utterly broken, the revelation I had had earlier that morning hit me again… “It has to be you, Jesus. It has to be you.”

Jesus knew when I woke up that morning that the trajectory of my life would be altered forever in just a few short hours. Just hours, minutes if you will, after my waking, my sister would leave this earth. He knew that. He knew I was going to feel completely defeated and lost after she left. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again- I believe will all that I am that He didn’t take her Home to be mean to me, and He certainly didn’t call her Home to be mean to her. No- we may not know fully why she had to leave, but Nahum 1:7 and countless other verses in the Bible say that He is good; meanness is not His character. He knew I, Tiffany, me personally, needed to be reminded that only He is the source of all things good. He is my source of peace. He is my source of comfort. He is my source of joy that surpasses all understanding. He is the One who sustains me.
[I’m not implying for even a moment that earthly things are not good. Medications and therapy and other things can absolutely help, but I believe that He is the utmost highest source of goodness and help. I see those things as tools, and Him as the source.]

He knew I needed the deepest revelation possible of His closeness, so in His kindness, He used an MRI machine, mere hours before my sister’s death, to help remind me. He gave me the picture of me sitting next to Dylan on an MRI table, to remind me that that’s His stance with me… “It’s okay, I’m right here… I’m right here. Just focus on me… I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere”.

“For I am the Lord your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you.”
Isaiah 41:13

“I used to wonder how people survived losing [someone]; now I wonder how they survive without knowing God…”
-Ashleigh Nicole Wilson (YouTube)

I randomly stumbled upon a video by Ashleigh tonight on YouTube. She was sharing how she just lost her baby girl to a miscarriage. She went on to say this:

“…and I’m not just talking about trusting that I’ll see my daughter in eternity. I’m talking about the comforting presence of the Holy Spirit, on me and with me, throughout the whole thing. It was so impactful to my faith and my walk with the Lord, in ways that I will forever be grateful for.”

I will never, ever push my faith on you. Some of the people closest to me right now actually don’t share the same faith as me- and that’s okay. There’s a mutual respect there that is so precious, because that’s so rare these days. (That’s not to say that being in community with likeminded people isn’t important, because it is). But here’s the thing- I have my beliefs- they have theirs’- yet we can still be kind, supportive, and love one another.

I will, however, let it be known that my faith, in my God, is literally the glue that is and has held me together this past year since losing my sister. I said that in what I wrote for her service- it was true then, and it’s just as true today.

Psalm 55:22 says,
“Cast your cares on the Lord, and he will sustain you.”

Sustain means to strengthen or support, physically and mentally.

This has been the most difficult year of my life. I’ve been in some dark, dark places and some low, low, low places. I’ve spent more time on the bathroom floor in the middle of the night than I ever imagined, sobbing so hard that I was sick and in pain. Sounds have escaped me in the throes of mourning that literally startled me. I’ve struggled with panic attacks brought on by a single, quick thought/memory. And that’s not scratching the surface… IT’S-BEEN-HARD.

A couple months in, I drank pretty heavily for about a month every night after my kids went to bed- I so desperately just wanted to be numb and feel nothing after a certain point. Did it help? Honest answer- sometimes… but it was always short lived. I’d eventually either get sick or get to a point where the alcohol made the ache of missing her so much worse. I journaled- that helped. I talked with trusted friends and family- that helped, a lot. I cuddled my babies and spent extra, undivided time with my husband. But people didn’t always say the things my heart needed to hear most. Journaling was a good way to get my feelings out, but I often felt empty and even more depleted once it was all out. My family has helped heal my heart more than I can ever express and I am eternally grateful for them… but at the end of the day, I still really missed my sister.

Truest, most honest answer about what has helped me, THE most…

It’s Jesus.

It’s not a popular answer. It’s one that makes some people uncomfortable and decide to walk the other way. Prior to this past year, that would have hurt my feelings. Now, though- it’s a big part of why I share my story. Yes, it hurts when people walk away from your life due to differences of opinion. But I can tell you that while it does still sting when it happens, I’d rather lose people for speaking out than to keep my source of hope bottled up inside, all to myself. Even if helps just one person…

I believe with all that I am that Hope has a name. Comfort has a name. Peace has a name. Unconditional, unfathomable Love has a name.

It’s Jesus.

Life is hard.
Things won’t always be fair.
We will lose the people we love.

But we don’t have to do this thing alone.
I know Someone who I promise can help, and He so desperately wants to, if you’ll just let Him.

His name is Jesus.

I’m currently binging “The Crown” on Netflix. While I love the show, if I’m honest, I’ve also been using it as a distraction while we get closer to the day my sister left.

The episode I just watched focused on the Queen Elizabeth’s younger sister, Margaret. She was in a difficult season of life, and made an unwise decision that almost ended her life. The Queen goes to visit her to check on her, and this is part of their exchange as she’s about to leave:

Elizabeth: “For the record, I think there are many things you’re good at.”
Margaret: “Name one that’s actually meaningful.”
Elizabeth: “Being a sister.”
Margaret: “No need to humor me.”
Elizabeth: “I’m not. Of all the people everywhere, you are the closest and most important to me. And if by doing [this] you wanted to let me imagine what life would be like without you… you have succeeded. {crying} It would be unbearable.”
Margaret: {touched and teary eyed} “Then we must both carry on.”

This hit me hard. What I’m about to say almost feels like a betrayal to admit out loud, and I hesitated sharing this publicly- but it so perfectly articulates the complex thoughts and feelings I’ve had swirling around my head and heart for this past [almost] year.

From the moment we lost her, I kept saying, “I feel like I lost my other half. My right side literally feels like it’s been amputated.” It was the most painful and strangest sensation. My whole life [since I was 3 and could recollect memories] it’s always been “Tiffany & Lindsey”. She was a “built in” best friend and confidante. Even into adulthood, I could always count on Lindsey to show up when I needed someone, even if it was just riding along to Walmart with me because I didn’t want to go alone.

When she left, I couldn’t fathom going on without her. We were a unit. I didn’t want to die… I had too much to live for. But I truly couldn’t comprehend how I was going to be “Tiffany without Lindsey”. In one of my counselling sessions, I mentioned this to my therapist… how I couldn’t seem to shake that it felt wrong to still be here without her…
Me: “because we belong together”, I told her.
She stopped me and asked me why I’d said that.
Me: “She’s my SISTER!!”
Therapist: “I know she’s your sister and you two were close, but I talk to siblings all the time, and it’s not common to hear one say they feel like they “belong together”- you and your sister are [individuals].
(My therapist is amazing, so don’t read that as a knock on her at all!)

Her comment to me was so profound, and I’ll go so far as to say divine, because it was an answer to big prayers I had been praying. My whole life, even though Lindz and I obviously led separate lives, I always unknowingly saw us as a unit… not just Tiffany, but “Tiff & Lindz”. Her words “You are individuals” have helped carry me through this past year, quite literally. For whatever reason, that we may never fully understand this side of Heaven, Lindsey is now free of her “earth suit”… she doesn’t need it anymore where she is. She’s made it Home. And I, for whatever reason, am still here. I believe with all my heart that Lindsey now fully understands ALL things regarding every aspect of her existence- every struggle, every heartbreak, the true intentions and feelings of all who love her…everything.. and she’s at peace.. eternally. Therefore, if Lindsey understands it all and is *truly* okay, then I don’t have to constantly try to make sense of it all- we are, in fact, individuals. We didn’t know every single detail of each other’s lives when she was here, so I don’t have to try to know every single one of them now. She’s at peace, she’s okay, and if I can’t have her here, I have to accept that that’s enough.

Elizabeth’s words to her sister resonate so deeply with me:
“Of all the people everywhere, you are the closest and most important to me.”

Here’s why.

Having my sister to be in a “unit” with is one of the greatest privileges of my life, and even though she isn’t physically here anymore, my words are no less true. Built in bestie, ride or die, peanut butter to my jelly… (she would literally be rolling her eyes right now calling me lame for saying this about us haha)

At it’s core, if I’m honest.. [and this is where it feels a bit like betrayal, but I pray my people know it in their bones that my love for them is endless; I’m just trying to process this out] Lindsey really was the closest to me, and maybe even, at times, most important.
You *dread*, but regretfully expect to outlive your parents- we were supposed to do that together.
My husband is the absolute other half of my soul, but [and I BEG you to hear my heart here- we went into this marriage saying that divorce was never an option and it’s never even been a fleeting thought and truly never will be] but you hear of marriages ending and people falling out of love- my sister was blood, so she couldn’t really leave me even if she wanted to.
My children are my world- but watching them grow up and interact with each other always brings back fond memories of my childhood, and Lindsey was one of the biggest parts of those memories that felt like {home}.
My best friend would die for me and vise versa, but no one has your back like your sister [and Lil, you know I love you].

So you see… when Lindsey left, I lost a big part of me; in hindsight it makes total sense that I’d feel like half of me was missing.

I don’t have Lindsey here anymore, and while I loathe that, as an individual, I’m finding I HAVE to look for the good in all of this wherever I can. If Lindsey’s at peace, I know she would want me to be too, as much as is possible earthside. There may be a huge Lindsey size void that will forever now be a part of who I am that no one can ever fill, but I know in my heart of hearts that my Creator didn’t take her home to be mean to me. The places that hurt the most- the areas of lack I now have due to her absence- He wants to be the balm that soothes those wounds. I believe His desire for me is to have a thriving marriage; a wonderful, full relationship with my parents; immense love and joy in the parenting of my children; the kind of friends that step in to fill voids, but never in a way as to replace my sister- they respect that and I am forever grateful.

Elizabeth said to her little sister, “a life without you would be unbearable”.
And I believe Lindz would echo Margaret’s words to me, now..
“Then we must both carry on”.

We’re just over a week away from the 1 year mark of Lindsey “leaving”.

Lately I’ve been having more frequent moments where panic starts to creep in; its that feeling of sheer desperation of wanting to stop time again. Soon I won’t be able to say “last year” and that be the year my sister was here. Sometimes the realization that we’re getting farther and farther apart as time keeps moving on is such a blow its almost knocks the wind out of me.

I was trying to remind myself tonight that the farther apart we get here [on Earth] the closer I’m getting to her in light of eternity. That usually comforts me, but tonight it stung too.. cause the closer I get to seeing her again means I’m closer to leaving those I love here behind.

Grief is tricky like that. There truly are “2 sides to every coin”.. something I’ve said more in the past year than I ever thought I would in my lifetime.. but its true. Two feelings and realities can coexist at the same time. And I’ve never pondered life so deeply until this past year (which I’m sure is obvious if you’re still reading my rambles a year later )

Tonight I landed on this-

Instead of wishing time away, (which has its pros and cons), or wishing I could go back in time or stop time altogether (which has its own set of pros and cons) it’s best to focus on and try to stay in the ‘now’. If I’m honest, what I wouldn’t give to be with my sister again (not to end things, but I just simply miss her so freaking much). But I’m also much more aware of how much of a gift each day and moment truly is, and I want to make the most with what I get.

Grief is tricky [understatement].
Life is tricky [massive understatement].

Here’s to looking back with thankfulness and fond memories, forward with hopeful anticipation, and staying grounded and thankful in the now.