The Harrowed Heart

Tag: mental-health

  • I couldn’t stop it

    This was a tough day: I’ve been preparing for a training class that I had to lead for several days, checking and making notes, preparing guidebooks, reviewing the power point presentation against the flow of speech, anticipating and answering questions, and fact checking the information I had on hand. I even made sure to let the team know that I would need to take my lunch at the usual time, which would allow enough time to set up before the class began at 1. That was the plan.

    And I was screwed before I even got out of bed for the day, having woken up around 2:30 this morning and struggled to get back to sleep. I think I drifted off around 6 and my alarm went off at 6:30. Strike one.

    I got to work 10 minutes later than normal-but figured that would be fine since I would be working and extra hour in the afternoon. But then I got busy and the one thing I told myself I couldn’t forget, was to remind the team again that I needed to leave for lunch as close to my usual time as possible…and I forgot to remind them. Not intentionally, I got distracted, and involved, and had my attention diverted multiple times…that’s not unusual, except when I’m low on sleep, and don’t function at my normal capacity. And lunch did not occur on time. Strike two.

    When my coverage arrived late back from their break-I had just cleaned up a pretty difficult encounter, contacted another party about required, updated information we needed, and reviewed a supervisor’s reply and direction for a third event that I just did not have the time to resolve at the time. I just shut everything down, finished up my last note, transferred the last call I accepted, grabbed my things, and a lunch that was kindly delivered to me, and booked it.
    The person that covered for me decided that my very quiet if not frustrated departure required a snarky comment, and a degrading comment on a group Team’s channel, and I was not left in the best mindset heading into lunch. I reported both to my lead and took a screen shot of the remark, demanding that it be taken down or I would be going to HR. Yeah, try me.

    So I left frustrated, but I was quiet; I get quiet because it gives me time to reflect, not just react. I didn’t berate you for not having the decency to let anyone know that something had come up over your break-I learned long ago that there are things I don’t know and I’m not privy to-but its common sense to reach out to a supervisor if you’re going to exceed your allotted break time. Strike 3.

    So I sat in Kevin’s office and tried to get myself together, I closed the door so it would be quiet; I did not have time to have time to fall into my feels, I needed to calm down and mentally prepare for my class. Success.

    And it went well. The class was engaging and asked thoughtful questions that I was well prepared for.

    And when I got home, I let Kevin know about it all. I just let it all out. All the anger and frustration from all of it. Just let it all out and let myself breathe. And then I cried. Just for a few minutes when Kevin hugged me, and I thought that was it.

    But after dinner, I was reading quietly, thinking about the conversation I was going to have with my supervisor tomorrow, and felt myself getting worked up again. Stupid lack of sleep helps nothing, anywhere, ever.
    I started my breathing exercises, and after a minute or two, when I felt like it wasn’t enough, reached out to grab Kevin’s hand. He immediately asked if I was ok and when I let him know my anxiety was kicking up, asked whether I needed a big hug. I said yes, and stepped into him for the second time tonight.
    I kept going with my box breathing, and that didn’t work; I took deeper breaths, and held them longer, and then I started shaking. I couldn’t stop it. I starting baby running feet-you know-the quick steps when there’s too much energy and nowhere to expel it. It was a little scary how quickly the anxiety took over and before long, I was full on sobbing again. I couldn’t stop it, so I gave up and leaned into it, and just cried into Kevin’s shoulder.

    I don’t know how long we stood in the living room like that. I just knew I needed to pull myself together; the kids know I’ve struggled with this since Kevin’s accident, but I’ve done everything I can not to have a reaction like that in front of them. I didn’t want them to see me like that now, not ever.

    So yeah, it was a day. I haven’t had an anxiety attack like that in…several months. And I couldn’t stop it.

  • Not Alone

    My friend is leaving me tomorrow. And I’m so proud of them for it, even if I’m sad for me.
    They are one of the best people that I know. Kind, funny, hard-working, and caring. Always willing to lend an ear or cry with me, whichever I might need.

    And they’re checking themselves into an inpatient facility.

    We talk, obviously. They are as open about their therapy as I am. We have no reason to be ashamed.

    So when they told me today they are leaving tomorrow for this, I gave them a hug, told them I was proud of them, and let them know that if anyone gives them grief for this incredibly courageous decision, to send them to me and I’ll throat punch them…a little levity was needed. I reiterated that there is nothing to be ashamed of in this. And to make sure their family have my number in case they need anything.

    I also sent a follow-up text this afternoon: “Meant what I said earlier, babes. So proud that you’re taking this step. It’s hard to admit when we need help and harder to accept it sometimes. But you’re doing it. And you’ll be stronger for it, but don’t under-estimate the strength it took to take this step. And don’t forget you have people at your back every step of the way. Love you.”

    I need them to know they are not alone. The people that live them saw the struggle.

    I had been keeping watch lately, I knew something was weighing on them, I felt it.  So i started asking whether they ate, had regular check-ins, you doing ok’s?, and how can I help? These all found their way into our usual banter. I knew they had been struggling…that’s one of the things with people who grow up with childhood trauma: we learn to watch and we learn how to read people exceptionally well, even the things they try to hide.

    It’s one of the reason’s I don’t doubt my intuition: there are always markers, even micro-expressions, unconscious movements, things your mind picks up on even when the brain can’t explain it. I trust that about me more than anything else.

    So as I think about my friend leaving for a while, I did my only mental check-in. How am I feeling? Really. So here’s what I’ve got:
    I’ve been working to stay present, to not anticipate the bad days taking over as the anniversary of them approach. Check. This time the last few years, I’ve overwhelmed myself with it. Right now, I’m looking at tomorrow, and our trips coming up in a few weeks. But not about the dark days.

    Two. I’m still keeping my therapy to every second or third week, for now. It seems to be a good schedule for me. I’m not overwhelmed by always going to therapy, because, yes, it can be overwhelming to dig through the trauma, and I have enough time between sessions right now to consider what is bothering me, either about Kevin’s accident, or anything else that might be weighing on me.

    Third, I’m finding my gym routine again. It kind of falls off in the summer, when I’d rather be out on the golf course. And now that the season is starting to wind down, I’m finding my stride again. I even broke my personal best on the elliptical by 30 seconds: first time running a mile in 10 minutes and 40 seconds. I was pretty damn proud of myself. Though I may have overdone it on the leg work out this week…it’s true what they say: leg day proves 2 things: pain is real and toilet seats are low. haha

    And finally, I have a great support system around me. My Kevin, a few close work colleagues, 2-3 trustworthy friends, and Kavi. I know I can reach out to any of them if I’m struggling, no judgement, no hesitation. Even when I fall and fail, they’re still there.

    So yeah, I’m feeling good, strong. Worried for my friend and determined to be their champion. Determined to start showing up a little for other’s the way they’ve shown up for me.

    This whole healing thing is a trip. A good one most days.

  • It’s been a lot…

    I’m not sure that’s the title I want to go with for this post. Things have been good. Stable.

    When I saw my therapist 2-3 sessions ago, I told him that I was really going to try to focus on the present and keep myself from that anticipatory grief and anxiety that has plagued me the last few years. July is tough because it marks my grandfather’s death anniversary; he’s been gone 11 years now and I still miss him.

    This one was different; the grief was easier to handle because I’ve started to do things to honor his memory. Simple things: he loved baseball-so that’s what I’m doing. Watching baseball on tv-kind of. I went to a few local rec league games this year. We saw the Dodgers play the Rockies this year. It was good.

    I even decided to take my grandfather’s clothes that I saved and have them made into a blanket. And I called my uncle G to see if there was anything of my grandmother’s that I could have-make the blanket from clothes from both of them.

    But…even if it was easier-the nightmares still came. Nightmares might be too harsh a word-I struggle to handle nightmares. Bad dreams is more accurate. There have been several bad dreams over the last 2 weeks. All with the same themes that have littered every post I’ve had. They’ve been handled but it’s been a lot.

    Dreams, bad or good, can be more exhausting than the nights that I don’t get a lot of sleep but don’t dream at all. I searched and learned that dreams can be exhausting because the mind is still responding in a manner that it would were a person conscious. Let me reiterate: the brain cannot differentiate anxiety or emotions from when you’re awake or asleep-it will only respond as if you were active in the moment, real or not, your brain stays active. Real racing heart. Real stress hormones.

    That freaking fantastic, right?

    Because the waking hours aren’t’ difficult enough… And that’s not really fair of me.

    Except for being tired, I’m still a freaking ray of sunshine at work. I’m being sincere here… I keep whatever is bothering me, sleep deprived or not, locked tight. Whatever it is, that is only for me and I only share that side of me to Kevin, Kavi, and a few select others. For the most part, I’m pretty even keel at work (and with my family) and only occasionally come over as frustrated…and I work to keep that in check (which is incredibly difficult to do when I’ve set a boundary that has not been met).

    Either way, it’s been a lot, the dreams have been a lot.

    Anyways, I have been focusing on the present. So far, I’m not pre-anticipating the anxiety and grief that usually monopolize my mental space from mid-August through November. I’m going to keep trying to stay in this moment now.

    And in this moment, I’m really looking forward to heading to Utah tomorrow. Our golf course is being overrun by a major tournament, which means we won’t be able to get on the course at all this weekend. So we’re headed to Moab to golf there, and cross Utah off our bucket list.
    I can’t remember if I said so, but our bucket list includes golfing in all 50 states. And right now, we have Colorado, Nevada, Arizona, New Mexico, California, Hawaii, Texas, and Alaska down. Utah is on the block.

    And in August, a state flower tattoo to commemorate our bucket list journey.

  • A little secret…

    I don’t know how many of you have actually had to deal with any kind of trauma, and if you have, I’m sorry-it’s no bueno.

    And for those of you who haven’t, I sincerely hope you never have to struggle that way, and I want to let you in on a little secret about trauma. It’s probably one of the most under-talked about issues related to trauma: it changes your thought processes. All of them, even the little ones, even years later.

    For example: I had what I thought was a completely normal interaction with a colleague yesterday:

    They called to tell me a patient was headed my way. OK

    They said the patient needed customer service. OK

    They said what the patient’s issue was with their bill. OK

    Nothing out of the ordinary; I answered everything he told me with an OK, and didn’t think anything of it. The patient did come to my entrance for the customer service team, I got his name, let the team know he was there, and told him someone would be out to help him in just a moment. Standard response to anyone who comes in my doors. Helpful, understanding, and direct without being cold. I didn’t think anything else of it…until my supervisor told me we had to talk.

    Here’s part one of that thought process change: I felt a little anxiety but not too much. I knew I hadn’t done anything that would warrant a serious discussion or rebuke or write-up, none of that. And then I started thinking about every interaction I had had with every patient, co-worker, caller, and walk-in for the last 2 weeks. What did I do? What did I say? Was there a misunderstanding? And it went on. And nothing came to mind.

    My supervisor finally came over, just as I was about to send her a message with a funny meme about the things that keep us up at night, to ask her to come see me before my shift ended. So she walks in, and I shut down the music so I can give her my full attention and prepare myself to hear what I had done. Because it must have been something, right?

    She tells me that my colleague I spoke with, said I had a tone.

    I gave her a blank look, like, what? He said, through our lead-not the same as our supervisor-that I had a tone. So I told her about the conversation, that I only said OK… She said “is that all?” Yeah, that was it, such a mundane conversation that I didn’t even remember it initially.

    And here’s where it gets fun, part two: I’m calmer after she tells me what happens–a little frustrated that my direct approach is seen as too blunt, or aggressive, or mean. And, yes, that last one has been going around; said colleague even gave me a sticker that says: I’m not funny, I just say mean things and people think I’m joking–But I immediately start replaying the conversation again, and again wondering where I went wrong? Questioning myself and whether I actually had a tone. Or if there was any other way I could have responded without seeming like I had a tone.

    And the sticker is funny-I’ve learned to laugh at myself- but I’m not even saying mean things, I’m just saying it like it is. I’m particular about how things are done, a perfectionist, if you will. I have standards and a solid work ethic, and I expect the same from my co-workers. I’m not the best at explaining things and I don’t have a lot of patience after explaining the same 6 things 27 ways, to the same 2 people, but I’ve learned to be proficient in training others. I guess you could say I don’t suffer fools. I also know I come across a little sharper than I mean to, so I do actually put in effort to soften my edges-I know not everyone responds well my brand communication. And I make sure that people know that any sharp, brash, or short response is not a reflection of them, but of me and the things that I struggle with.

    I cannot expect people to have the same level of understanding that I have after 20-some-odd years in the industry. I know it take time, and some learn more quickly than others, and some will never pick it up. I know these things, and I still work to be sure that I am not negatively affecting their mental health. They shouldn’t feel bad because this role is not their strength and they cannot do this job, the way that I do. I emphasize when I’m training that ‘this is how I get this done, when you settle in, you’ll find your own way.”

    And this is what I still work through and still struggle with: I was more confident before-I knew I needed to work on the short-comings I mentioned, and I do-and I had more faith in my interactions then. Now I get to deal with anxious moments when someone is not happy, when they have a bad day and there is no reasoning with them, and when my words or actions are misunderstood or miscommunicated. Yes, I say that, because again, that conversation was so mundane I nearly forgot it.

    So, what I’m going to do now, is hear my supervisor when she told me earlier that this is nothing to be worried about. I’m going to trust that I acted in a professional manner-because I did-I’m going to remember I am damn good at my job, and trust that being direct, is not the same as being rude, or having a tone.

  • And that is beautiful

    Well, we did it. It’s done. Our youngest child has officially graduated from high school. I was a wreck.

    There had been a lot of anxiety for me leading up to her graduation and it took me too long to figure out why there was a sudden return to destructive behaviors. But as I sat in the university gym where the ceremony took place, I thought back to our oldest child’s graduation…and the fact that Kevin almost wasn’t there. Then it hit me: I still hear my bug’s screams from that day-that her father wouldn’t see her graduate.

    That kind of thing doesn’t leave you.

    And I realized that I was still holding onto that irrational fear that he almost didn’t make it to see any of our babies walk; the irrational fear that he almost wasn’t there for a lot of things. And that first year was the worst…

    Birthday’s, anniversary’s, holiday’s, special occasions, gatherings, celebrations, wedding’s… I felt anxious at all of those first events. I couldn’t stop thinking that he almost missed this-and how absurd it is to still harbor this fear-it didn’t come true. It did not happen. The worst, the absolute worst for me was the first anniversary of the accident-that’s when my anxiety was at its peak. While I had never had issues with anxiety before-I’d had multiple anxiety attacks following the accident. Something would trigger me and my breath would catch, my chest would feel tight, and I couldn’t get enough air into my lungs, no matter what I did.

    Colleagues caught me running down the hall sobbing, crying in restrooms, struggling to catch my breath as I held it…and that was the worst of the anxiety attacks…I can’t tell you the number of times I sat crying quietly at my desk, box breathing, repeating my mantra-it’s fine, he’s fine-and desperately trying to distract myself from my spiraling thoughts. I actually had to take meds at one point to help control the acute attacks, the one’s I couldn’t talk or will away or work myself out of. I didn’t like it-it made me too sleepy and foggy. Effective but not functional.

    I’m better a managing my triggers now-avoiding one’s that I believe have the potential for catastrophic consequences and managing the ones that are merely bothersome. Kavi has been phenomenal in arming me with techniques and tools to help me manage these trauma responses. I need to remember they are there, that I set a few myself, and that I am still stronger than I was.

    I am also coming to see that what I was feeling this week was two sides of the same coin: yes, there was anxiety in remembering what we almost lost. That will always be there. And two: My babies are no longer babies. Their lives are about to diverge and change in ways that are frightening and exhilarating in equal measure.

    And that is beautiful.

  • It’s invasive

    So I have been struggling trying to write this most recent post: At first, I wanted to share how wonderful my therapist is: I’ve decided to call him “Kavi”-it’s Sanskrit for “sage” or “poet”- and I wanted to include the letter I had written to his boss in full…but that seemed like a bit much…

    And then I wanted to touch on a trigger I met in the last two weeks: And while I did have a momentary reaction to it, it didn’t affect me in quite the same way the other triggers have hit. Which is good, I suppose; it could mean I’ve become adept at handling them-jury’s out on that. It didn’t feel big at the time, but when I started thinking about it, I understood why it hit.

    See, while golfing on opening day, another group hit an errant shot that came far too close to us for our liking. Kevin being Kevin, yelled “ow” facetiously, though it took me a moment to realize he was absolutely fine as I was not looking his way at that moment. As I was thinking about my reaction to it-the panic and fear I felt- I realized it was a trauma response to last time I thought Kevin was “fine” and wound up facing his mortality.

    Any thought of Kevin injured or in pain does not sit well with me.

    There is a direct correlation to that, and my dark days; the thoughts, the fears, and the pain that came with them.

    Not a fan. Do not recommend.

    So I was struggling to figure out what I wanted to say, how to say it, what I wanted to touch on and I’m still not sure, to be honest. Some days I feel like me, most I would argue. And some days are just…meh.

    I also think the reason that I’m having a hard time settling on or sticking to particular topic is because I feel like that little bit of panic is pulling at different pieces of me. It’s invasive.

    It’s also a cognitive distortion-I know this-I know Kevin is fine, he’s okay, he’s here with me; I know it’s unreasonable to fear his pain; I know he can have an injury AND be absolutely fine; and I know, I KNOW, that feeling that panic is perfectly normal for what we survived.

    I am seeing “Kavi” tomorrow, time for my regularly scheduled sanity session. I know he’ll guide me as he always does when I can’t settle my thoughts…and that’s one thing about these little moments of panic, or even the larger ones, that feels debilitating: I hate how they pull at the pieces of me; how they pull my thoughts to darker corners, to what if’s and could have been’s; how they flitter to “I can’t imagine” and “you were so lucky” (I still hate those phrases, by the way); I hate how those thoughts steal my focus, how they steal the light; I hate how they interrupt my sleep. And I hate how easily it happens.

    I’ll keep going though: keep writing, keep breaking through the minutes, and keep leaning into Kevin. I’ll find a way to reclaim those pieces of me again. I always do.

  • Not okay

    Well, the end to this day sucked.
    I was let out of work late, again.

    I’m talking minutes; not long, but enough to interrupt my process. It feels silly that I can’t be patient enough to wait for my coverage to show up, but it’s exhausting that I have to keep reminding them that I leave at four. And more exhausting to remind them that they just need to communicate with me if they’re going to be late.

    And I wasn’t very nice about it, either. I believe what I said was that my coverage “needs to learn how to show up on time.” It feels very much like it did when I walked away from my friend last week.

    And I’m starting to wonder why I am fixated on this very precise time. I have ideas: the first being that I need that control-that is the moment I walk out the door and get to the gym. That’s the time that I take for me, for my peace, and I don’t like it being…adjusted. Changed? Negated? I’m not sure what the right word is there, but I need that consistency. I’ve started to live for those times when the world is quiet, even when my playlist is slamming against my ear drums. I love running out of work to head to the gym, finding my spot, changing, deciding if I’m going to run 5 that day or just 3 and include core work out, or legs, or arms.

    That control aspect is what is bothering me; I’ve worked a long time to let that go because so much of what happens on a normal day is out of our control. And what happens on an abnormal day, and what keeps happening past those abnormal days, none of that can be controlled. You just kind of roll with it, not because you want to but because there really is no other choice. You know the saying, “if you’re going through hell, just keep going.” What they don’t tell you is that the fear you carry through it stays with you.

    What they don’t tell you is that when one thing, one small thing changes in what you’ve defined as part of your new routine, that small change is enough to bring the fear back.

    I don’t need to leave at four on the dot, precisely. I need what little autonomy belongs to me.

    It’s not that I wasn’t very nice because my coverage was late, it’s that disturbance that lets the fear reclaim my thoughts.

    And more than anything, it’s not that I’m not doing everything that I can to be well, it’s just that sometimes I am not okay.

    After my run today, after coming home upset because I didn’t leave on time again, after my shower, Kevin came in and just held me while I cried. He reminded me that it’s ok not to be okay. He knows that none of this is easy or linear; he knows sometimes I just need to let that out and be not okay. I’m only entitled to my feelings.

    I need to remember that: I am only entitled to my feelings. And regardless of them, I need to remember to be respectful. Which I know I wasn’t. It’s probably what led me to make an appointment with my therapist this week, instead of waiting for my next regularly scheduled appointment next week. Because right now, I don’t feel okay…and that’s not okay.

  • Unbelievable

    He wrote me songs; multiple. Plural.

    They are striking, beautiful, real, and they make me ache. In the best way but they are also a little triggering.

    Kevin used my own words and thoughts, taken from this blog, or from conversations we’ve had to create them.

    The one he has, “A Little Grace,” is my favorite. I listened to it all day. And I do mean all day. On repeat. Kevin captured what I had been feeling exactly. And showed me more than anything that he has seen me every moment since he woke up in that hospital.
    That was never in doubt; Kevin’s always been my biggest source of comfort-to the point that I would fly into his arms or crawl into his lap when the worst of my panic attacks hit. Kevin was the only comfort I could find then, and the only way I was able to calm down then. He had the patience to bring me back from the edges of my mind; and he’s seen every step I had to fight for since then.

    Kevin captured perfectly how hard this has all been; he’s stood by me when I couldn’t keep trying; he’s seen me fight back when other people would try to damn me, like they had any right to; he knows better than anyone how difficult this has all been. He knows I’ve been “locked in the fight,” trying to get back to my old self.
    But after that horrible person speculated my involvement in the accident, and I was forced to confront demons I already struggled with, before I was ready, I had a breakthrough, I guess you could call it.

    My biggest struggle has been my own sense of guilt around the accident; I wanted new floors and Kevin wanted to do something for me he knew I would love. He was hurt because of something I wanted. Rationally, I know it’s not my fault. God, that is still hard to take to take to heart. It still hurts to say it, my eyes still sting, and my nose burns even just typing that out. I know this. This is the rationality of it. Sometimes accidents happen and no one is at fault. It’s just unfortunate. Rationally, I know this but emotions are not rational. I’m getting there.

    But this forceful meeting of my own guilt also showed me that I wouldn’t want to go back. I believe I’ve stated that before so I won’t get too repetitive.

    But the song is right.

    Look at how far I’ve come. I’m kinder to myself. Give myself grace. I wish I could play the song for you here, maybe one day. For now, that’s just for me. But I will leave you with the chorus:

    “Look at how far I’ve come–Breaking through the minutes on a five-mile run–Breathing through the burn, letting the old pain set, I’m not who I was I’m the best version yet–I set boundaries now, I give myself grace, let myself crumble then rise in my own time and space–Yeah I miss who I was before the accident but I wouldn’t go back–This version of me is the best yet”

    I think this is the most beautiful thing he has ever given me: proof that he still sees me. It’s an unbelievable feeling to be seen, to have my own harrowing experience validated.

  • Sometimes, it doesn’t help

    Well, I went hard while running last week; I keep pushing myself to move a bit faster, for just a little bit longer. And I was able to hit my goal and beat my best time so far. It felt really good. And it also helped me let go of control long enough to grieve for the trauma of last week. Some things just weight too heavy.

    I’ve been wondering why this event seems to linger… but I bet my therapist will tell me that trauma triggers trauma. I’ve been thinking about that, too. I knew it would bring on bad memories and trigger nightmares, thankfully only one, but it was enough to disrupt my sleep (again). I’m working on that. Sometimes, even pushing myself at the gym doesn’t help.

    In my experiences, I understand more what people are feeling when they have their worst days. I know what it’s like to be overwhelmed by questions from people who mean well but don’t understand that silence is a gift. When those two things collide, when the information meets my uncanny ability to understand more than I want, well, I’m not left with many outlets to express that. There are laws for a reason, and besides that, I want to allow people their privacy in their worst moments-knowing how invasive it feels to have everyone, and their mothers (yes, literally) know and approach you with details that should have, and legally, were required to be protected.

    I can only keep to myself what I know. And putting two-and-two together sucks sometimes. It means I have a more thorough understanding of the situation as a whole. And it’s awful.

    I have just learned, however, that healthcare professionals are allowed to speak with their mental health providers and therapists about difficult work-related events. I know there have been debriefs, counselors called in and services offered for severe cases, especially when they, the healthcare team, are shaken by a case or when they know the patient, as they did with Kevin and his accident. So that is a relief, knowing I can share with my therapist.

    I’m hoping it will help to relieve the noise.

    But Kevin and I recently celebrated our wedding anniversary, and in true Kevin fashion, I got what I love most: a letter he’d written to me. I love these, they are something tangible I can read over and over again. And he said something that really hit me this time. He was talking about the accident and how I “carried the fear so” he could survive it. I know that doesn’t make a lot of sense but if you think about it, it’s still true. Stress and fear have a way of hindering physical healing.

    I’ve always been the one to manage our family, handle the difficult situations, plan for the best and worst times (even while fervently hoping those never came). And in this particular instance, it was more true than ever and to have him acknowledge that, it hit something deep in my soul. And I hope, this other family, that everyone going through their worst moments, have someone to carry that fear for them, too.

  • Another nightmare

    Well, I’ve made it past the holiday slump that I’ve been stuck in. Kevin and I went to a few games this year; a playoff and championship game (next year, Denver!) and even went to visit his father- we really need to make that a regular thing. And things have just started to calm down, feel less heavy, if you know what I mean.

    And then, well, inevitably it seems, it happens again. I have another bad night, another nightmare. I knew to expect it, I knew it was coming. I didn’t think it would happen that first night after hearing about what had happened, but I knew it would rear its ugly head in time. And it did.

    This time was slightly different though; this time the nightmare seemed to stem from fear of abandonment. Don’t get me wrong, my family and I-and by that, I mean my siblings and mother- we love and take care of one another the way that families are meant to, even if we don’t see each other as often as I would like. And I’ve never feared them leaving me.

    But recent events lead to a trauma response. I work in health care, and shit happens sometimes that no one can prepare for. And while not directly involved in emergency patient care, I can still see the weight the team that worked this particular case carries. It did not end well. And it involved a small child. That is all that I will say about that.
    My heart aches for the caregivers and the family involved. It’s never easy working a trauma-speaking strictly as someone who is the wife of someone who suffered a serious trauma-but it’s worse when it involves a kid. You could feel it in the air and see it in the eyes of those who tried to help. It was even brought up in our daily check-in, to keep that team and that family in our thoughts.

    And then I saw the email the school sent to parents, letting us know of a sudden loss. I saw the names of the family involved, people I know, who we’ve been friendly with. And it hurt more.

    Someone mentioned, “I just can’t imagine…” and seriously, I hate that phrase. I have since Kevin’s accident. Those are the worst moments of a person’s life, why would you want to imagine what it feels like? I certainly wouldn’t want anyone to have the experiences I’ve had nor would I want to think about what it would be like to live through someone’s else’s worst moments. We can sympathize, sure. But no more, do not put that thought into the universe, trust me, you don’t want to be in that position. At least, that’s what I think.

    So this nightmare, I was alone. Kicked out of my family home. Packed my car so tight with belongings stuffed in trash bags that I had no choice but to take a bus to a friend’s house. And when I texted my brother to ask him how he could let this happen and that I had nowhere to go, I only received a texted picture of me with a friend; the message was clear: we won’t help you, rely on your friend. And I found myself crying on a bus, a kind stranger asking if I was ok, and me, shaking my head no.

    That was when I woke up, the feeling of being alone still clinging to my consciousness, sobbing. I had to work through my steps to calm down alone as Kevin had already left for work. I have a new process, I actually use to help me get to sleep, too: I think about 3 things that I can hear, and three I can feel…and this morning, I added 3 things that are true. This is actually my modified version of a coping mechanism to talk people out of their panic attacks. It seemed to be pretty efficient: I calmed down quicker than I thought it would. I also wonder if I calmed down more quickly than normal because the nightmare wasn’t directly tied to my own trauma, or the emotions that brought up.

    When I heard the news, I didn’t have to wonder what that family must be going through, no, my focus was not spiraling into my own memories. That wouldn’t have helped anything anyways. Nope, I focused on trying to stay present, allow myself to feel sympathy for that family, even before I knew I knew who they were, and keep going. Because that’s all we can really do. Keep going.

    And yeah, this sucks. It’s not fair, and no one will really know why things like this happen. There’s just no rhyme or reason to life sometimes. It just happens, and sometimes it’s hard.

    It can also be really beautiful. The community has rallied around the family, it’s what we do. Our organization took care of their own, meals were provided to the EMT team, the ED team, and counseling is always an option for staff in these circumstances.
    Friends reached out to friends, we’ve all been checking in with each other a little more, and we’ve all given just a little more grace.

    Because that could have happened to any of us.

    And we can only be there when it does.