I am in full PTSD mode following Jack’s week of not walking.
I do not wish to recount the details. What remains is my exhaustion. I have little energy. I am obsessed with dark chocolate. When I have a quiet moment, instead of reading or doing something enjoyable, I stare at the wall. Or my phone.
It’s a pattern that follows any traumatic event with Jack. I know this now, so I recognize it. I’m not sure how to make it go away more quickly.
When I was in the early throes of stress, I kept thinking about this blog. To be honest, I wanted to drive it into the desert and leave it for dead. I also wanted to burn my house to the ground and throw myself into a crevasse. So, there’s that.
But, about the blog. I truly couldn’t:
a) see the point
b) muster the will
c) say anything wise/funny/insightful/delightful
This was when I realized I was not in a good place.
The sad part for me is that we weren’t even IN the hospital for any extended period of time. We simply went to the ER and then had a nightmarish week. Medical moms go through harder stuff with their kids’ health all the time.
The problem is we already live precisely, exactly, and completely on the edge with Jack. His mood, his behaviors, his sleep patterns, his stomach/potty issues, his aggression, his meds, his routines—they all require me walking a fine line between disaster and survival.
This is why last week did a number on my emotional health.
It’s also why I second-guess the writing, because it feels like whining.
Long story short, last week, I:
- felt acute spiritual pain.
- questioned my competence.
- dwelt in doubt and desolation.
- revisited hopelessness.
All of these topics feel desperately sad to explore. So I will simply say, I had a hard week.
In the midst of it, Fred and Shirley brought me doughnuts. Chris went on a walk with me and gave me chocolate-covered cinnamon bears. Dutch massaged my scalp and shoulders and took me out for curry.
I prayed, mostly the short, direct prayers of a person in pain—the kind of supplications that are stripped of wordiness. Bare. Direct. Urgent.
I’m starting to feel better. But I have to stay away from thinking about my life in general terms, instead focusing only on right now.
During one of several Sunday drives to occupy Jack, Jeff asked me to read these verses from Matthew 6:
“Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin:
29 And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.
30 Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which to day is, and to morrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith?
31 Therefore take no thought, saying, What shall we eat? or, What shall we drink? or, Wherewithal shall we be clothed?
32 (For after all these things do the Gentiles seek:) for your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things.
33 But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you.
34 Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.”
Jeff declared it our family motto.
Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.
Take no thought for the morrow.
Your Heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need.
They shall be added unto you.
Shall he not much more clothe you?
Ponder in a state of PTSD.
Toil not, neither spin.