The Harrowed Heart

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  • Nightmares are the worst

    I recently read somewhere that nightmares are the minds way of processing traumatic events and memories. I always knew that was the case but having seen it in writing recently reminded me of a new nightmare I had recently; an “easy night-nightmare,” is what I call it.

    You see, for me, there are two kinds of nightmares that I have; an “easy night-nightmare,” these are the ones that startle me from sleep, the ones that I know are ridiculous, and ones I usually try to wake myself up from, thinking, “This isn’t real.” They’re not to be overlooked though, they still carry the undertones for the “hard night-nightmares.”

    These ones terrify me to no end because while the premise of the dream keeps in line with the easy night ones, the hard night-nightmares brings an unsettling and realistic feeling of grief and fear with them; in these nightmares, I can’t tell whether I’m awake or dreaming. All I know is the pain is too real in these dreams. There is no waking from these dreams; no thought that I can get out of this subconscious reality; these ones paralyze me. They can be so bad that in nights following them, I am afraid to sleep.

    When it happens that I have a hard night-nightmare, when I am somehow able to wake up, it can take a bit to calm down, and it’s almost impossible to get back to sleep. Typically, I crawl into Kevin’s arms, or his lap if he’s already awake for the day, and sob uncontrollably. And he’s so patient with me: reminding me to breathe, that he’s right here; he’ll rub his fingers through my hair and circles over my back. We only pause so I can blow my nose because breathing becomes an issue when you’re laying down and crying your heart out. These dreams can lead me into a panic attack, which is something I’ve never used to experience before.

    But this new nightmare, if you could even call it that, was different. You see, the others all have one thing in common, and that is that Kevin is gone: he’s either away, or leaving, or sometimes, the nightmares are related to injury. His accident, I almost lost him forever. Almost losing the person you love most, that will change you. And these fears, an abstract possibility before, came a little too close for comfort.

    Anyways, this new nightmare: Kevin was leaving, being sent away: he’d somehow gotten involved with drugs and had been arrested. I remember thinking in the dream, this is freaking ridiculous! Kevin won’t even so much as take an acetaminophen unless he absolutely has to. When I work up, I shook my head, laughed a little, and got ready for the day.

    But as I was telling Kevin about it later, I couldn’t help but feel a little of the grief that follows when I think of that day, when he was almost lost to me forever.

    And I came to one conclusion either way: nightmares are the worst.

  • Still working it out

    Alright…I’m still playing around with the appearance and set up of this blog. I’ve never done anything like this before, so bear with me as I try to figure it all out.

    I’m also trying to work out how often I want to post; I have more good days than bad now but that doesn’t mean I’ll only be writing when I’m struggling. I think it’s important to remember to highlight all the good moments as well.

    When I first started therapy, one of the first things I was told to do when a memory overwhelmed me was to make a list… well, box breathing might have been the first suggestion but making a list was definitely in there somewhere. And as someone who has been writing off and on since her teens as a means to alleviate stress and emotional turmoil, it seemed pretty natural.

    That list, initially, included all of Kevin’s little victories after his accident; they included physical things he was able to accomplish in the early days: walking from the bed to the chair, the chair to the doorway, down the hallway to the nurse’s station, etc. Little victories that would help me remember that he was surviving and progressing.

    I really struggled every time he wasn’t able to act physically the same way as before his accident; the instances are less overt now but I still see the signs: the way he grabs his chest where his ribs were cracked open, how he has less energy for the things he loves doing, how he still sometimes pulls away from my hugs-honestly, that one still hurts the most-because after 3 years, he still has extreme sensitivity to pressure against his sternum.

    But this list, it got longer and longer, and I kept re-reading it over and over again. It helped. Until it didn’t. It helped calming me as it reminded me of how far he had come; but it sucked to remember where he had been, simply because those memories still have the power to break me. I’m still working on it, I mentioned that, right?

    So I changed it. I realized that I needed my own list; something for me to read about myself that helped me to feel good. It was just another way for me to bring myself out of my anxiety, especially as we got closer to the first anniversary of his accident and it kicked into over-drive.

    The list is self serving but not in the way you may think; all the comments are a response to my actions toward those I help to take care of. For me, this list is a reminder that I am capable of making someone else’s day a little bit easier to get through.

    And that brings me the greatest relief; it reminds me of the people that were there to help me through the scary moments. I find peace in knowing that I can be that for someone else.

    I’ve been working towards changing that mindset that leans towards the negative. It’s not always the easiest to do: being angry is easy. Reminding yourself that’s not who you are is difficult.

    And it’s ok to struggle doing either.

  • Rough Morning

    July 24, 2025

    Met someone today who just made my day (insert sarcasm here). Our interaction was brief and the only things I discerned about this particular individual was that they seem to be very angry with an ego and huge sense of entitlement.

    Now, I deal with this kind of thing all the time and while I’m usually good about letting it go, understanding that the reason they’re in my vicinity is not always by choice but necessity, and that it can be scary, and that each person deals with stress and fear differently, the entire experience ruined a solid hour or so of my morning. I’m afraid I was not nice in their description to a friend when I asked for help and vented my frustration at their treatment of me: I believe “d-bag” was used more than once.

    And then a colleague brought me my favorite coffee cake.

    After I was able to sit with it a bit, and devour my coffee cake, I started thinking about how this person got to the point where they are angry and hateful, and not just today, but in almost every interaction they have. I spoke to other colleagues who reported similar experiences. What had they been through? What brought them in today? Are they getting help? Do they need help?

    And then I decided that I didn’t need to let this experience continue to ruin my day or bleed into what I do best.

    But more importantly, I didn’t want to let this turn me into the worse version of myself; she’s not a nice person. I didn’t want to be so consumed in anger that it would be all I would experience. I did that before and it almost ruined me.

    I was completely overwhelmed after Kevin’s accident; I was mad, angry, grieving, scared, scarred, and changed. I wasn’t the same. I was short tempered, quick to cry, and snapping at everyone. I didn’t feel like I was that person at the time, not until someone sat me down and described behavior I have zero recollection of.

    To be honest, many of the days following Keivin’s accident are lost to me; there was too much to feel and too much to do and honestly, I just don’t think I was capable of taking in or processing anything else in those days. I was just surviving going through the motions. Not really interacting but acting. In many ways.

    Acting like I was fine. Acting like I wasn’t angry, or scared, or broken. But I was and I didn’t like it. I never considered myself an overtly happy person, but I was never the angry, bitter person I had turned into.

    That’s when I got help and found a good therapist. But that was still 4 months after the accident. Four months that I can’t account for my behavior.

    I don’t want to be that angry person again, and I started feeling sorry for this person who I only know as this.

    I did change with Kevin’s accident: I’m still changing, to be honest. But this little experience today, it’s only as important as I make it.

    I have this little board for short quotes: it usually changes based on interactions I have or things I want to focus on; so today, it was changed:

    “In a world where you can be anything, be kind.”

    ~Clare Pooley

    And love yourself.

  • Moving forward

    July 23, 2025

    I’ve been giving a lot of thought to beginning this process; it’s made me question a lot of things I think I know or thought I knew about myself.

    In the end, I decided I needed to do this to move forward. I can’t keep being stuck in my own mind and in my own emotions. So I thought I would begin this blog…and face my own fears head on.

    My hope is that it will help someone else, anyone else, who may be having a tough time but isn’t quite sure where to go.

    I know I was lost for a while; still am sometimes. But that’s ok. Because I am able to see now that the memories I face are a testament to my family’s strength. To mine.

    And then I wondered, “Where do I start? At the beginning?” But I don’t want to go back. I don’t think that will help.

    So I’m going to start right where I am. Here. Today. Trying to keep moving forward when the worst day of my life still lingers through every day I get. And I know how dramatic that sounds but it’s true; some events truly are the worst day of your life, even if things turned out fine in the end. And they did.

    You’ll get my story in time. Learn what happened that led me down this very long road. The fights I faced. The dark moments I struggled in. And the little triumphs I savor. This will be hard, emotional, and real. Mostly real.

    Because this whole journey has been nothing but real. Real fears, real pain, and very real emotion. Trauma tends to do that.

    I want this to come out naturally so I won’t be scripting anything here. I have almost 40 pages of writing I could share, and some I probably will, at least excerpts of it. But I don’t want it to feel forced by using something that, at the time, was just meant for me. Something that was completely uncensored. And I will share some, as I said, just selectively.

    In the end, I just want people to know that they are not alone; that there are others that understand the weight of their mind and emotions controlling their every day, every interaction. That it’s ok to set boundaries and seek help. That it’s ok to feel vulnerable and angry. And especially that they don’t need validation for what they are feeling. It doesn’t require explanation and there is no time limit to healing.