And today the fog lifted and I recognized the truth: I am in pain and grief and struggle because right now it looks like all we have is what we had and there won’t be anymore new.
Since our ICU experience my body has felt as if it is being chased by a saber tooth tiger. Most of the time I can feel the energy coursing through my body. When we first got back to life post hospital, the energy could be molded for good. Clean up, reset, dive back into life. The energy could be harnessed: we have more time and how we can use it. I can fix all that has been hurt and enjoy the simple pleasures we have cultivated – the ones we almost lost. My fast pace worked and when I hit a low or a bump in the road the energy could be redirected to lift me back up. Study some new approach. Develop a new habit, practice or tool. Overall I was able to get myself to a livable and sustainable place. Actually probably more than that as I logged hours on the road, attacked overgrown inboxes, and was sure to resume my normal calendar full.
Over the last week all the energy bubbled over and what had been used to motivate, energize, and guide me has left me scared, in pain, and feeling out of steam. I can’t run and so the walls are crashing in. I am exhausted, but can’t rest. I am angry, but can’t shake it. I am overwhelmed and can’t break through. And last night when Shannon asked me if she can be mad with having a sick daddy I was quickly transported back to a conversation with her school counselor: “grief does not wait to come until death, it happens throughout life all the time.”
Last night I slept. Today I felt calm and could be present. Now I am still struggling to harness the energy for good, say yes to those things that will help (going to bed, not hitting the “next episode” button), but it doesn’t feel so “you are wrong” and instead “its ok to not be perfect”. I felt better.
Through the day sweet messages for 15 years came in through the screen of my phone. It felt nice -I worried I would be extra on edge today, and have that “no one say anything right” feeling – but I did not. Actually the opposite, the messages made the day feel worthy of acknowledgement. I could breathe.
The only remaining grief that was loud today – Danny didn’t call until well into the evening. It was quick, he was asleep all day and heading back to bed. We all three exchanged love yous and hoped for a different experience tomorrow.
Now as midnight rolls around I still feel better. The feeling of racing isn’t there, but there is a new one: I feel better because today my emotions were given an explanation: the grief I felt matched the facts. Danny is really sick and we don’t know if that will change. Tonight I am not out trying to out run the emotions and still not willing to give in enough to just go to bed. Is there a new and different race? Does my body need to get ready to “armor up” again?
To end this July 17 I am grateful that my racing heart took a pause and my body could relax a bit. I am proud that I have gotten to a place that I recognize the pain and don’t keep trying to fix it. Yes, I liked that I would harness it, but I am also proud that I know that can’t last. And I am grateful enough that yesterday when I was at my worst and I said to Danny I know a panic attack wants to come and I am choosing (more like praying, begging and pleading) not to have it. He was able to respond with he understands, it is ok, and to “stop and look at our little girl and little spotted fella and find pride and joy.” So maybe I am wrong and today’s anniversary isn’t just recognizing what we had, but finding it still peak through in little ways.
Thank you so much for reading and remember to make it a great day!
Jackie
Have A Little Faith in We 