The Harrowed Heart

Tag: mental-health

  • 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. 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 my 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.

  • I don’t know what to say…

    I can’t even wrap my head around what I heard today, but I’m going to try, so here goes.

    I was told today, that when Kevin originally had his accident, there was talk, and I won’t mention who, though I wish I could throttle them both, that I had done it. And by that, I mean they thought I was responsible for Kevin’s accident, that I somehow willingly inflicted a life-threatening injury on him.

    Now, I’m all for the odd, dark joke; making them is sometimes preferable to tears and breakdowns but these people…One I don’t think much of just because of their demeanor and the other is nothing but a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

    Now, when I come across people I don’t like for one reason or another-or sometimes for no reason at all-I ask myself what it is exactly that I don’t like about them, and more importantly, is that a reflection of them, or of me? Mostly it’s me and I’ve come to the conclusion that we don’t have to like everyone, just as they don’t all have to like me. I think is just a natural occurrence and its ok as long as I remember that not liking someone does give me or anyone else license to be rude or disrespectful towards them.

    And I work hard to do that, sometimes more than I want to. But it comes to the same: they still deserve respect even if I don’t like them. That is also a natural occurrence, or it should be.

    Now, this person today, I have never liked them. Not 15 years ago when we initially met, not a few years back when I met them again, and definitely not now. I’ve tried to be more than just polite, I’ve tried to engage in conversation with them about their interests, and I just can’t anymore. My main description of them is only something I’ve shared with Kevin and my therapist; to be frank, I find nothing sincere about this person. I used to think it was just me but I’ve been proven wrong by them, on multiple occasions now.

    The first time was a few months back when they approached me about a sensitive issue while I was at work. Now, I’m not shy in my emotions and feelings, but I am selective in who I willingly share that with. There is nothing in our history to indicate that I would ever want to share a more in-depth conversation with them about that particular topic. I told them, very firmly, verging on rude, that that topic was not one they should ever approach me about again. They told me they thought the situation was different and I immediately shut that down as well, reiterating that they don’t know the situation and it is not up for discussion, ever.

    I also reported that conversation as a means to protect myself and ensure it would not happen again. I may have been more standoffish with this person since then.

    But now to learn that they had discussions about whether I intentionally hurt Kevin… I just want to yell at them, put them in their place. Remind them that they have no right to make such an implication let along discuss it like fodder to fill their worthless time.

    I don’t need to tell them how broken I felt when all this was happening; they don’t know that I can still hear my bug screaming, see my son’s tears, and watch my pancake try to shake the words, “your father could die,” from her head.

    They don’t get to know about the sleepless nights, the endless fears, or about the panic attacks I had. They don’t know I use therapy, breathing techniques, going to the gym, and writing as an outlet for any of that. They don’t know that there are still triggering moments, hard days, and nightmares that still plague me.

    They especially don’t know the relationship I have with Kevin or what we mean to each other; they don’t know how many times I shut down platitudes of, “at least you’ll appreciate him more, now,” with I already did. They don’t know the kind of love that Kevin and I share: one that is honest, raw, and worth fighting for, even to live, as Kevin did for me.

    They don’t know how deep that connection goes or that when he was under, before he was flown out; cracked open but unconscious under the protective coverings; intubated, and looking every bit the patient that he was in a hospital emergency room that look like a bomb had gone off in it, that Kevin heard me: he responded to my words to fight and stay with me. He moved his feet, and it was like hope had been brought back to life in that room. Everyone there knew it, they felt it. It was tangible.

    But this person, they don’t know that, because they don’t know me; they only know of me. Not who I am. I’m selective about that, even more now.

    I really wish I could confront this vile person, but I don’t even know that I could say anything that would convey just how callous their words were. I really have no clue how they came to the conclusion that I could ever hurt Kevin, unless they equate my ability to set boundaries gave them the thought…seems like a leap though. It almost feels like showing strength equates to being aggressive.

    But let me tell you: I had to walk through fire for that strength. And I’ll keep doing it now, and walk away from this person as well, because at the end of the day, a confrontation is not going to end well; not for me. And they’re also so not worth it.

  • Ugh…

    Sorry I’ve been absent recently; things have been going really well-been feeling strong and just trying to enjoy the little things in life.

    Got to mid-October and things just kind of slumped; we reached my grandmother’s birthday and that was hard. The first everything after the people you love pass are always hard.

    Then we were able to take the oldest and youngest to dinner for their birthdays, with their boyfriends in tow-nice young men. Kevin and like them both but the key is that our kids seem happy and are treated well, so we’re good. We had to call our son for his birthday-it was really weird with him being away at school, to spend his birthday without him. But he’s also doing well and happy-and he got see his girlfriend last weekend, so he’s good, too (and yes, we also like her.)

    But then I started having some anxiety-I hate to call them attacks-it feels weird in my head-especially when they seem quiet and under control. I kept watch but couldn’t really find a trigger-other than the time of year. I’ve been diligent about minding the things I know could set me off-no need test myself right now.

    The anxiety seemed manageable at first, I didn’t even mention the first 2-3 episodes to Kevin; just breathed through them and tried to calm my racing heart. I hate that the most-the heart racing-it feels weird when that happens and there is no activity to precipitate it. I have to watch my thoughts when these happen, too, so I don’t exacerbate the problem. Spiraling down a rabbit hole is not the best idea to do when I’m already feeling anxious.

    But over the last couple of weeks, it’s been getting worse-so much so that I spent 20 minutes yesterday trying to talk myself down, before finally giving up and hiding in Kevin’s office for 15 minutes and trying to distract myself. I had told him that I’d been struggling a little; he did what he always does-reminded me that he was here, and that he was here if I need him. And just let me hug him-which has been the best balm to my anxiety. Kevin just has a way to calm me and make me feel safe-he brings me peace.

    But after yesterday’s episode-God there has to be a better way to describe this-I decided to make an appointment with my therapist. I haven’t seen him since the end of August; I was feeling good, strong, and I wanted to enjoy it for a while. And I was doing good. But this time of year just hits me so freaking hard.

    It doesn’t matter that I try NOT to focus on the bad things that have happened; but how do you not remember the people you’ve lost at the time of year that you lost them? And then remember that I work where everyone knows about Kevin’s accident, and there have been questions about how I’m feeling now, about how Kevin’s feeling now.

    How am I supposed to answer that? “Thanks for asking… I just love discussing a potentially emotionally charged topic that is in no way painful to me?” And really, I don’t mind talking about that, how I feel, with the right people at the right time, but work is not that place. I won’t even begin to address the second question other than to say the situation is ongoing.

    There is generally more happening in a person’s life than we know, that’s why it’s important to be kind, even when things are hard.

    So…yeah…I’ve been struggling with anxiety the last few weeks; I’m angry, and sad, and frustrated because it all still hurts, and sucks, and is freaking hard. And it’s all condensed into this time-frame and I thought I was doing so good and I was and I know I was and I know this is just a blip, but really, can’t it be enough already?