The Harrowed Heart

Tag: writing

  • 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?

  • I just miss her

    It’s my grandma’s birthday today; she would have been 89.
    This is the first birthday without her, and it sucks.

    I always hate these types of first; they’re always the hardest. The first birthday without being able to call her-it reminded me of the last birthday I got to spend with her. The first and last time we went to a baseball game together. The last call we had where she asked when I’d be back to take her to another one.

    I’ve been thinking about her all day and I struggled to keep it together at work. I made it to mid-morning before I started crying. That’s me. I’m the cry-er in my family. Always have been. Always will be.

    I used to hate that I was always so emotional. It seemed like a burden that my anger or my sadness would always result in tears, and I couldn’t help it. But now I see it as a strength…my compassion lets me do my job and do it well.

    Kevin said he could feel my heart breaking as I cried over the enchilada’s he made for me tonight; they were grandma’s enchiladas. I remember the first time I ate them after she was gone… I was crying in the grocery store, in front of the Mexican food section, asking my Kevin if he would make them for me. I sobbed through every bite; he said it’s because I love so deeply. And it was the same tonight, but I couldn’t let her birthday pass without her enchiladas.

    I knew today was going to be hard but what I didn’t expect is that it would feel as if no time had passed since I got the news that she was gone… it hurts every bit as much as it did then. Maybe a bit worse since it’s been almost a year since I last spoke to her. I can still her soft voice calling me “mija” and telling me I eat like a bird.

    But I also remember the last trip to California before her death; we took a day trip to Yosemite. Grandma told me about the trips she and grandpa used to take my mama and my uncles on when they were younger; how they would leave early and make camp by the river and cook up breakfast. She must of told me that story about 9 times on the way to and from Yosemite. I remember not minding…knowing I wouldn’t have many more opportunities to hear them. Knowing that she just wanted to talk with me. Know that we loved each other so much. Not knowing that would be the last time I heard that story. I didn’t mind.

    Man do I miss her.

  • A good reminder

    I often get people, patients and visitors alike, coming into my lobby and looking for specific services that are not located in my area; usually, I just direct them to the appropriate location and wish them a happy day.

    More often than not, I get those who need to be directed to the emergency room for various reasons: they require emergency services; they’re here to visit an in-patient and need to check-in with the emergency room unit coordinator first (for patient safety), or they’re here to be with someone in the emergency department-usually a relative or friend.

    I typically handle these visitors with care, first finding out what is bringing them in, though they’re usually good about letting me know when I ask, “how can I help you today?” Then I’ll either direct them around the building to access the emergency room department, or personally walk them down, and through the locked access doors. FYI: anyone bleeding and people in obvious discomfort or pain get an immediate escort directly to the emergency room while visitors are given directions on how to get there.

    Last week, however, I had a gentleman come in looking for his son, who had been in an accident. That was all he said. Normally, I would give him directions to the emergency room but something in the tremor of his voice spoke to me. I could hear his fear and his grief; I felt his pain wrapped around the way he said “son” and “accident” in the same breath. And I felt a kinship towards him, knowing that feeling myself.

    So I didn’t hesitate to shut down my computer, lock up my HIPAA protected papers, put the bell out, and walk him to the emergency department. Knowing the strength he would need, I asked if he would like me to grab him a coffee or juice before I led him to the ED. He declined and that was that.

    Quietly, we made the short trek to the ED; we didn’t speak a word between us, other than my light direction to take a right down another hall, but I could feel each shudder in his breathing, not knowing what to expect. As I let him through the final door, I introduced the unit coordinator to him by name, let him know they would help him from here, and to let us know if he needed anything.

    I don’t know the outcome of that encounter or who they were: I don’t need to know. I know what I needed when it was me and I just wanted to pass along any kindness I could to that person. It’s scary, the not knowing. And the fear you feel is so painful, so crushing, it’s a wonder it’s not tangible. It’s something dark that just lives in you until you get the relief you need, if you get it, until you hear the words that can turn it into a bad memory. And when that relief hits, it’s so sweet it’s draining. It takes your strength and the air from your lungs.

    This meeting has been sitting with me the last few days; I find I’ve been dwelling on it more than I should, as well as a few other personal issues… yeah, there have been a few lately. It just really makes me wonder, ya know? Why do some of these things happen? Some people are gone before we’re ready; some are told how much time they have left. And in between…in between I guess we just do the best we can; we just keep showing up and showing the world how resilient we can be, even if it doesn’t feel like it at the time.

    I also got some really wonderful new, coming May 2025; there will be a new baby in our family…not me!! Another family member is expecting and we’re thrilled for them. That news was just what I needed right now… it was a reminder that while shit hits the fan, regularly and with more frequency than I care for, good things are still happening, too.

    I really needed that.

  • Sometimes, it’s just a lot

    So last week, I wrote that I have been struggling to get some solid sleep in… unfortunately, I received some bad news that night, and sleep did not come easily. I’m actually still processing that news, just waiting for it to hit, because I know it will.

    On another note, I’ve been thinking a lot about the peace that I’ve worked hard to find; specifically, about the control I have to keep my peace.

    Small actions, no matter how big or small, have the power to impact someone else’s day. I think I explained this fairly eloquently to a co-worker recently, about another’s behavior. I won’t go into detail here but the co-worker I was talking to… she’s big on putting yourself in someone else’s shoes, to take a look at things from where they’re standing. I have a love/hate relationship with this mentality some days. It’s not a bad mindset to have but it can be exhausting as well. Anywho…

    I let her know my concerns and yes, frustrations with another colleague. I explained that I’ve been struggling recently-she knows my history, been with me through my dark days, and seen me progress through my therapy-so I’m not afraid to share with her but I also felt the need to remind her that while I’m doing well, there’s been a lot going on recently, and that while I’m managing my stressors and triggers, when things begin to pile on, it can be those little things that push me to that breaking point.

    So, I let her know, this one concern, a small action, really and truly usually ignorable, can still be that one thing to set me off. And not me, necessarily, but anyone else who may also be going through it themselves. You never do know what someone else is carrying: they could have lost a friend, have a family member fighting cancer, or be having an “and then” day-a day where nothing seems to go right and it just keeps piling on… you know, “I woke up late, and then my car wouldn’t start, and then I dropped my coffee everywhere, and then…” You get the idea. I think she got the point.

    I said what I needed to say and now I’m done with it. There is someone else who has noticed this other colleague’s behavior and she’s not happy about it, either, but that’s her battle. I also keep telling her to “let it go, if nothing is going to be done, then nothing will be done.” I can only hold onto my peace, even when it feels like I’m having an “and then day,” even when sometimes it’s just a lot.

  • That’s Pretty Good

    I just read something that essentially said, with all the therapy I’ve been getting, I’m not learning how to handle the trauma, pain, anxiety, or depression I’ve been through, rather, I’m healing to enjoy and love all the good things that come my way, to allow happiness to resonate in my soul again. I felt that.

    On the one hand, there is no way the experience of Kevin’s accident is ever going to fully fade into memory; there will always be a trigger I don’t anticipate. Or a memory. A sound. A feeling. Tonight for instance, I watched a movie in which a husband lost his wife: the scene showed the husband crying and trying to curl into the wall of the hospital where he was waiting with family and I was transported to November 19, 2022, when I tried to curl into the hospital walls myself…when I was so scared and so overwhelmed that curling into anything else for comfort was all I could think to do at the time. Just to stop thinking, to stop feeling. I’ll never forget that moment, the one where my comfort was fighting for his life and I had no one else to tell me it was going to be alright, to offer that comfort, and tell me it was going to be ok.

    That comfort did come, eventually, in a coworker I was familiar with but didn’t know well. As soon as she opened her arms to hug me, I fell apart and allowed the grief to take me, knowing someone was there to help piece me back together, to help me navigate this terrifying situation, and to tell me it would be ok, even when we weren’t sure it would be.

    But I digress. The last few years of therapy have been exceptionally helpful in helping me manage those triggers and emotions, so while watching that scene did bring up extreme emotions and memory for me, I was also able to let slip the tears that managed to break through, remind myself that what occurred in the scene was not the outcome we had, and that Kevin was fine. We are fine.

    But then I think about the second part of what I had read…that I’m healing to accept happiness in again and that made so much sense. You see, when Kevin had his accident, and even though he’s fine now and I did not lose the love of my life, there was a period of time that I grieved his absence, and our future, not knowing then what would happen or that he would survive. Honestly, the trauma to his heart…I didn’t know if he’d make it; I’d been told to bring the kids, to prepare for the worst, to call our family. So yeah, I grieved a future we had planned, even if only for a few hours: trips we wanted to take, golf excursions, Florida for a wedding, our children’s graduations-our eldest child graduated from high school 7 months after Kevin’s accident-and so many other plans. I felt like I lost it all, all our future memories, even if they hadn’t happened yet…gone.

    The first year following the accident was exceptionally difficult: the wedding anniversary I thought I’d face alone, Father’s Day, my birthday, graduation, a wedding, a visit to my grandmother. I honestly thought it was all lost to me and so reaching each of those milestones, while amazing in their own rights, were bittersweet to me. They were tinged with memories of what we almost lost and a sense of relief that Kevin and made it this far. The first anniversary of Keivn’s accident brought on its own set of anxiety inducing memories and emotions for me. But we made it.

    And with therapy, I was able to face that I was afraid to fully embrace those times because they were almost stolen from me once. I was afraid of facing that I had almost lost them; afraid to believe that they did happen, that Kevin was here and celebrating with me. It took some time, but I’ve gotten better at being present in those moments now, in letting myself feel the joy and happiness that radiates in them.

    We just dropped our son off at college a few weeks ago and it was bittersweet for all the right reasons. Kevin and I, we only ever wanted to give our kids every opportunity we could, to allow them to be children for as long as they could, knowing what it was like to have to grow up early, and not wanting that for them. We wanted to keep them free from the burden of being an adult before their time.

    So dropping off our son at school, leaving our baby behind, in a place he worked so hard to get to, knowing that we had given him every tool we could to help him be successful; knowing that he had reached the first step of his dream, and knowing that Kevin and I could do that for him, that was pretty amazing. So, while I was crying for a whole different reason, I was also so incredibly happy, and that is pretty good.

  • 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.