Grind

"The Scharpers."

  Before Riley went to heaven, I’m sure anyone who looked at "The Scharpers" saw a family who mirrored the "American Dream." On the outside looking in we had it all. A loving marriage, a beautiful baby girl, successful careers, and amazing friends and family. But what people did not see day in and day out was the grind. The grind of two parents working full-time jobs in the medical and education field. Both of which are physically, emotionally, and spiritually draining. Careers that demand love, respect, and empathy toward others. Careers that scream servanthood and putting others before yourself and your family. The grind of a husband and wife who were slaves to their careers but had nothing left for each other at the end of the day. The grind of overlapping Google calendars that looked like color-coded chaos. Work, meetings, grad school, church commitments, and a staggering social life, our world was dictated by schedules. It was dictated by routines, and seizing every opportunity to squeeze every possible event into our "free" time. 

We did it all.

We were exhausted. 

No, we were bone-tired.

The grind is glorified in the United States. It’s put up on a pedestal and romanticized in a way that honestly makes me physically ill. I promise if you were to look at a clock at any given time on any given day, we would have been doing the same thing each time. Our life was rigid. It was predictable, it was punctual, and it was pretty damn stressful. Two weeks before the accident Riley and I were lying on the living room sofa together. There was one light on and we both were staring into space. We were desperately brainstorming every possible scenario to find any sort of relief in our busy, busy lives. Something HAD to give. We thought about moving, selling the house, switching careers, moving to the mountains, and becoming nomads, you name it, it was on the table. We needed a change, because for the sake of our marriage and baby girl, we needed to fix the life we created. 

 My heart hurt.

 His did too.

  I remember feeling so lost in my career as well. The drive and passion I once had for teaching were slowly dwindling away. Maybe it was only getting 4 to 5 hours of sleep each night with a baby who just didn’t want to sleep. Maybe it was all of the teams and committees I lead at my job. Maybe it was being a full-time grad school student and working mom. Maybe it was being hooked up to a baby or a breast pump every 3 hours and the emotional and physical toll of breastfeeding. Whatever it was, I had lost my spark for teaching. 

In the middle of our brainstorming conversation, I remember holding my head in my hands and weeping violently. Riley’s hand was on my back. I told him that I felt so worthless. I felt like no one saw me. I poured so much of my time and energy out for others but I still felt like no one even noticed me.

  Riley was my biggest support system. He held me and said, "All of that is a lie. People know you, and they see you. You do everything to a Katlyn standard, and that standard is incredible. Once people see incredible over and over again, they get used to it."

 His words were so beautiful, so kind, and so comforting. I understand he was my husband, and loving husbands speak truth over their wives and encourage them, but I still thought he was wrong. I still felt an empty feeling. I still felt unseen, and so tired. I’m not writing this for any sympathy. We’ve all had a pity party in our living room, I’m sure. This one was just so heartbreaking because we both were so unhappy. There was an angst, an unsettling in both of our guts. Something had to change. 

Riley worked 12-hour days as a nurse practitioner. When he came home he would give every ounce he had left to our baby girl, and as soon as she went to sleep he would open his laptop and begin charting, some nights until midnight. I’ll never forget his tired eyes. His beautiful, blue tired eyes. He did so much for so many. It hurt to see him in such a state of lifelessness. I remember feeling such turmoil. Riley wanted out of health care and that honestly wrecked me. It hurt so much to watch him work so hard and sacrifice so much just to throw it all away. He had "made it." He had landed an incredibly impressive job and I was so proud of him. Yet, he was so tired he could barely function.

This photo was taken on January 5th, exactly 8 days before Riley died. It was late...so late, I was headed to bed, and I remember feeling bad that I wasn't going to sit up with him while he charted. I wish I would have. To this day, I am not sure why I even snapped this photo, but this was our life. This is what the grind looked like leading up to Riley's death. His days were numbered in this photo, and he was spending them weary and worn down.

  Some nights we were both so exhausted we didn’t even have the time or energy to have a conversation. Like a meaningful one. We would just stare at each other and our eyes told the story of weary exhaustion, knowing we would start it all over again in the morning. A never-ending treadmill of tasks.

Let me be perfectly clear. If I could, I would snap my fingers and go back to the living room pity party. I would go back to my "old life" in a heartbeat. Because although I was unhappy, I would have been unhappy with my best friend and my baby girl’s daddy. Riley and I would have figured it out. I know we would have. But this is the difficult part of grief. It’s the regret part. The "could haves," "should haves," and "would have," part.

So this is it. This is your wake-up call. I tell this story for a very important message. If you are having a living room pity party and are sick of the daily grind, fix it. Life is fleeting. We knew that before, we know it now. We were not meant to live mundane, exhausting, soul-sucking lives that demanded every ounce of us. We were not designed to be slaves to agendas and screens. Please hear me when I say I am NOT telling you to quit your jobs. Working hard is an incredible characteristic. It’s a skill set I am blessed to have and so was Riley. What I am saying is, start saying no. Start putting your loved one's needs over the meeting, the pay raise, the social status, and the promotion. Start prioritizing the important things. Start living intentional lives. Start protecting your peace. Believe me when I tell you that you can and will be 100% replaced in your job the day tragedy hits. But you will undoubtedly NEVER be replaced as a husband, a wife, a mother, a father, a son, a daughter, a sister, a brother, or a friend. Ditch the grind and start living, I'm glad I did.

For whoever is reading this, I pray that you too will find rest for your weary soul. That you will find peace and rest in the only one who can sustain and deliver you from the grind.

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls." - Jesus

Matthew 11: 28-30