Friday, July 25, 2014

Crazy Recovery.

How many times have I heard people say to me, "Oh, I understand." This makes me want to punch them. Because unless they have had a major life altering loss, you have no idea. . You can empathize with me and that's fine. But for God's sake don't tell me that you understand. Or my other favorite " I could not even imagine what I would do if that happened to me." Which makes me want to respond with. "Try."

   As many of you know my new saga is that I am dealing with PTSD.  And while I understand that this is part of my my "Crazy Journey." In this moment, I hate it.  The rational side of me realizes that this is how I deal with painful memories, and will be grateful for the perspective I will gain. The irrational and angry side wants to scream and yell "No, more." I don't want to keep revisiting these awful images. I don't want to keep coming around the corner and seeing him intubated. I don't want to experience those flashbacks that arise at the most inopportune time.  I just want to create new happy ones to drown out the tormented pain that comes forward.

 The most annoying thing is that no one can understand this kind of "crazy." These are my memories, my flashbacks, my pain. Sometimes I wish I could take my head off and just walk away from it for awhile.  I do take comfort in talking with a friend who has also experienced PTSD. However, this type of insanity feels very alienating. But, the most irritating part of it?  Is experiencing Pete's loss all over again.   The heart wrenching ache is back but in a new form.  As if I am finally sober, and the drunken grief haze, has worn off.  Luckily the difference from then to now is that  I have someone to lean on.  He gives me courage and pushes me forward when I stand in frozen fear.   I am in a new state of crazy, if that's even possible. Before it was that I didn't want anyone to help me, but when they all left I wanted them to come back. I would be starving and make dinner, then sit down and feel full.  I would call up friends for play dates then when they got here I wanted them to go home. The crazy that encircles me now is. Loving a man who lives in heaven and loving a man on earth. Wrapped up in missing him and yet not missing him. Understanding that his body was tired, and yet  mad at him for leaving me here.  I want my old life back, and yet I want nothing to do with it.  I want to move forward and leave these painful terrifying memories behind and take the good ones with me. The ones that are buried somewhere in my mind but only occasionally do I catch glimpses of.

  It's  like being trapped in two worlds. The past and the present. Each day that I listen to that audio recording, I experience the terror and the confusion all over again. Then after the session is done I go to  bed and have dreams of being in hospitals. One night I chased Pete around the whole hospital but never once saw his face.  My most recent one, I was shot in the heart. There was no blood just a big empty whole. I walked through the corridors of the hospital while nurses and doctors walked by as if it was nothing unusual. If I think it through in a rational manner I know its my brains way of sorting it out.  I feel grateful but angry at the process.   Its overwhelming to say the least. My brain gets stuck back there with images that make no sense. Then in the present, I am trying to parent, tackle my fears of driving, manage the finances, maintain the every day demands of keeping up the house. Filled with worry and guilt that I am not being a good mom and finance because the crazy keeps sneaking in. While desperately looking for ways to keep the anxiety at bay and searching for quiet moments to finish my book.  I stand and stare out the kitchen window wishing for a break. But wonder where would I go? I can't outrun the flashbacks, the memories, and the demands of every day.  There is one place I like to go but its not close by, and at this point in my driving homework I can't even drive myself there.

So it circles around. Healing is crazy, grieving is crazy, letting go is crazing, and moving forward with even an ounce of sanity is,crazy.   My new mantra "Thank you God for giving me the Courage and the Strength I need." keeps me going. The hidden joys of remembering something painful and being grateful for the missing puzzle piece falling into place.  I take comfort in strong loving arms that hold me while I cry and loving me even when I feel bat shit crazy.  Delighting in my children's laughter as they hug me tight combined with watching with awe as my children run into J's lap for extra snuggles and tickles.  It's in these moments of sanity I look around and see love where I never thought I would have it again.  I know that if as I continue to trust the process, the blank spots will be revealed and with their reveal I can finally let them go. Where they can no longer sneak up and take a hold of me bringing me to my knees.  I feel as if these memories, and missing pieces that have been wrapped up in a cocoon, will someday be set free into something more grandiose that I ever could have imagined. And for that I am grateful. Which sounds crazy I am sure, But I am a crazy kind of gal. Intense to a fault, yet hopeful that my radiant, strong, confident, wings are emerging. With butterfly wings on my back, God in my heart, an Angel by my side, a loving fiance holding my hand, and my arms full of kids I know love outweighs the doom. After all it was love that started it, love that heals us, but most of all, it is love that binds us together on this crazy recovering journey.

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