Reaching Out

I opened up and put a tiny bit out there. I was dubious that it would be okay.
Would I regret it?
I quickly went to bed before I could change my mind.
The answers that came were gentle.
The answers were kind.
Most of all, they felt real. Well, one really did not apply but nevermind that.
I wonder how many people walk around hiding the stuff that weighs them down thinking that no one would get it.
How many people keep all the horror to themselves because they fear repercussions for not having a big enough faith.
How many should write a book in large font and plenty of spacing (so reading is easy) to give the next disconsolate soul.

Sheltered In The Arms Of God

I feel the touch of hands so kind and tender.
They're leading me in the paths that I must trod.
I'll have no fear for Jesus walks beside me
For I'm sheltered in the arms of God.

So let the storm clouds rage high,
The dark clouds rise,
They don't bother me;
For I'm sheltered in the arms of God.
He walks with me,
And naught of earth shall harm me,
For I'm sheltered in the arms of God.

Soon I shall hear the call from heaven's portals
Come home my child,
It's the last mile you must trod
I'll fall asleep
And wake in God's sweet heaven
For I'm sheltered in the arms of God.

So let the storm clouds rage high,
The dark clouds rise,
They don't bother me;
For I'm sheltered in the arms of God.
He walks with me,
And naught of earth shall harm me,
For I'm sheltered in the arms of God.

Last week felt a bit of a turning point. I can't say I felt His touch, but I felt the hope that I could feel His touch. O haste the day when I can feel like myself! O haste the day when I don't feel so alone.

Tears. Ad Rem. Or Should It Be Ad Nauseum.

I have so many to cry tonight.
I long to empty my gut wrenching tears and be done.
I want to be me. I miss me.
How many times have I told people near me in the last couple years that I miss me.
Some have laughed.
Some have rolled their eyes.
Most have not gotten the point.
But today I realized why.
As I recounted the agony of bringing my firstborn into the world, I could nearly feel the pain again.
It went on for so long.
I thought I would never be the same.
Lo and behold, I am not.
When the story came to an end, she said something that rang very true to my heart.
She spoke to the loss that happened. At a time when I expected to just live and be and enjoy the moment, I was dealing with loss that really felt like death.
I have felt that loss in every area of my life sans one.
My intimate friendships have taken huge hits.
My just-learning-to-know-you friendships have been so limited.
Worst of all, my spiritual faith seemed to take a huge hit. First I was too sick to think and felt carried along. Then when I felt like my faith was getting back up and figuring out how to brush off the debris, the bottom fell out of my world.
The only place I have not felt like crumbled was my marriage. I can't say that I have felt loss there, per se. Yet, there have been many times and places that we have longed to do and be more but could not.
So back to the tears.
Tonight I just want to mourn the fact that I did lose me.
I really have reason to feel like I miss me.
I am not the same person I used to be.
Who gave whom the permission to change it all up?

Grief... on a Ramble

She said "I think it is grief."
I was shocked. and a bit sad. and a tiny bit relieved. At least someone has a handle on my issues.

I have been through so much grief in me life. I don't want to go down the road of healing from deep grief. The tears. The rage. The utter exhaustion. The denial. The depression. The acceptance.

But how is all of that any different than I have been? I have been through each of those stages at least once in the last year. So why do I fear the journey?

Why am I so sure that the tears will drown me?

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In other news...
There is an exercise known to help brains process trauma and go on to healing. I understand it. It is not mumbo-jumbo woowoo stuff. It is real. It makes sense. (I, once again, owe so much to Sis. Mary for all she taught me.) I cringe at the thought of going through with it. Why? Because I fear the pain I may feel.

Keep moving people. Nothing new to see here...

Pain

So I was reading about birth trauma tonight.
A specific story reminded me of how much pain I endured during both of my boys labors.
But the one at the forefront of my mind is the freshest.
I was WELL on my way to giving birth by the time labor actually started. All things considered it was that perfect start to the rocky road I was choosing. Sometimes I wonder if the choice of road has made my inner pain worse.

But the pain.
I have never been in so much pain.
After surgery, they make sure you don't feel that kind of pain.
If you were at home and had something happen, the first thing you would do is go to ER.
At the time I did not really register how much pain I was in.
The midwife said in all her 20 or 25 years of deliveries she does not think she has ever seen a mama in so much pain and still so strong.

Was I too strong? That has always been the message of my arrows.
Was I a wimp to give up and go for surgery? I know I was not. But I still wonder.
For weeks I could feel the bruising from the source of pain during labor.
I almost relished it. It kept me connected to the truth.
The truth was that I had tried my best and had the best help.
And it was all beyond our doing or undoing.
Some days I still feel "phantom" pain.
The bruising really was pretty severe. It was excruciating.
But then as now, I relish it because it grounds me to the truth.

I did my best.
So why does it hurt so badly?

In my heart.
In my head.
In the scars on my body.

I watch him toddle around.
Nearly trying to run.
When did he get so big?

I look at him and think how much he has grown in the last year.
I look at him and subconciously rub what used to be a very large belly.
I enjoyed being pregnant with him. His pointy butt was so easy to see and touch.
And then one day he was in my arms.
How did he get there? When did that happen?

I well remember the days of longing to see him.
I was uncomfortable. Huge, in fact.
I well remember the days of his tiny fat cheeks.
I wonder how that changed.
What happened?
How did he get here?

Will I ever know?
Does every mother wonder the same?
How did he get here?

Anxiety

So I joined SolaceforMothers.
I am not alone.
I am not crazy.
My pain is real.
Right now, it is very real.
My heart rate is elevated.
My nerves feel hyper vigilant.
I read over (i.e. not in full detail) a couple introductions.
I found a couple suggestions for trauma treatment and help.
The three pages I followed up with for that was too much.
I should have known better.
It will take a while for my breathing to return to normal.
Praying I don't dream about those dark places in my head,
I am off to bed.