Invisible Scars

Veteran’s Day made me think of something that had happened recently.  I was recently with someone that is an active member of our armed services.  He’s done a few tours already and been in the throes of things over the years.  He is a happy, well-adjusted family man that has a carefree smile and the warm personality to go with all of that.  His service came up and he readily talked about it, answering questions and speaking how he truly is happy and feels lucky to serve his country.  At one point though, the conversation shifted and there was a perceptible change.  And to some it may just have seemed as though he was somber due to what he was talking about. The thing is though, I know where he went; I’ve been to that place myself many times.

I am by no means comparing myself or my struggle to that of a service member that has been in combat but I too have been through a battle, and I too carry the invisible scars that it left me with. 

After I could barely drag myself from bed and had stopped sleeping, I began seeing a psychiatrist.  I was skeptical to begin with and more so when she had diagnosed me with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  I remember thinking, ‘that’s ridiculous, I’m just grieving.’  But after tossing it around in my mind and recalling all of the background information I have from my counseling psych degrees I couldn’t deny that it fit: agitation, hyper-vigilance, social isolation, severe anxiety and vivid recall or flashbacks triggered by everything or nothing at all; all of it was what I had been experiencing regularly since Jack had died. I think it felt to me then like I didn’t have the right to have something like this assigned to me when there were people protecting our country and other countries from atrocities-seeing and experiencing the unimaginable that were coming home with this baggage. But really, hadn’t I been through something unfathomable myself?  I went to the hospital hoping to get some treatment for my unborn son and within thirty-six hours was being told that there was no scenario in which I would be taking him home with me.  He was born quickly and was gone almost as quickly. It was traumatic; there is no other way to classify it.

So I may not have the same triggers, loud noises and ceiling fans are not what take me back there; for me it’s bright overhead lights, hospitals and certain sounds and smells.  But I get it. There are times where something happens and I am right back in Philadelphia, unable to breathe.  I know what it is like to be present and in the moment one minute and then back in the worst moments of my life the next.  I know what it’s like to lie awake at night, not because I’m not tired-in fact quite the opposite, the exhaustion sometimes crushing-but because I am running through each second of that day over and over; wanting to forget and fearing I’d forget all at the same time.  I know what it is like to look completely fine on the outside to everyone around you and feel like you’ve completely fallen apart on the inside.  

So what do you do with this?  How do you move forward when sometimes you feel completely stuck in one day?  I guess it depends on the person but, for me, I try my best to stay as rooted in my present as I can; take in every single moment and will my heart and mind to absorb those.  I surround myself with people that I know love me, root for me, and are there waiting patiently if I get stuck in January 25th, 2015 every so often. I smile and laugh when I can and allow myself some grace when I can’t.  

It’s been a long while since I’ve written.  I’ve felt bad about it but I’ve been busy living and that isn’t something that has always come easy over the last three and a half years.  I will carry these wounds in my heart for as long as I live and it will not always be pretty.  There is no expiration for PTSD; there is no magic cure. If you know someone with these invisible scars-love them, care for them, let them have the moments they need to find their footing again and give them a hand if they can’t find their balance on their own.  

To the men and women of this country that have sacrificed so much, especially their peace of mind, I thank you.

How am I thankful? Let me count the ways

The thing about Thanksgiving is that, aside from the insane amount of home cooked food that is consumed, it asks people to stop for a few hours and take stock of all of the things that they have to be thankful for.  I'll be honest, I am a glass half empty kind of gal and so it's easier for me to bring to mind things that have not worked out so well, or worse.  And so I do my best to stop with everyone else and take in all I have to be thankful for:

7.          I am thankful to watch my parents love on their grandchildren. I have seen them smile more in the last 4 years than I can count and it fills my heart.

6.          As ridiculous as it sounds, and I know many of you will laugh at this, I am so thankful for our furry family members. My little girl loves them something fierce and as for me, Lennon is this furry little bundle of love that soothes my soul.  And Tucker, oh Tucker, even your ridiculously anxious and over the top reactions to absolutely everything make our home a little more complete.

5.          I am thankful for our friends.  I had always feared that after losing Jack, there would be casualties; people that just couldn't fit into our life as it is now, and there have been-and that had come with its own sort of heartbreak.  The idea of losing anyone after losing our son seems like salt on an open wound. And so, I thank God with every fiber of my being for the people in live that take us where we are at any given moment and love us anyway, never asking for more than we can give at the time.

4.          My siblings. I am thankful for these beings that have seen me at my worst, gotten me into and out of trouble, hugged and squeezed me when I've needed it most, and have made me laugh until the tears poured down my face and I've been gasping for air. Half of us have moved into the area and seeing them regularly breathes some youth back into my lungs on a regular basis.

3.          I'm thankful for Jack's Herd and what it is allowing me to do.  I am thankful that the people I love have helped me to build something for me to channel this great love I have for my son into. I am thankful that out of tragedy, something meaningful can grow.  We will nurture Jack's Herd with the love and careful attention we would have done with Jack himself.

2.          Sean. For this sweet man I am more thankful for than I can possibly put into words.   I have been able to make it through each day of the last 23 months solely because the love and patience he shows me has convinced me that I can.  If fate is real, and this is the path that I was destined to walk, the universe did me the ultimate act of kindness by sending Sean my way.

1.          And lastly, Kennedy. This one needs no words or explanation of my thankfulness but I will try and do my best.  My heart beats for this girl.  I look at her and listen to her talk, time slows and I think, "How will I ever repay this tiny, beautiful, little soul for all she gives me?" Each time she smiles at me or touches my face I am reminded how I have survived-her light wills me forward, allowing me to put the pieces of my life back together as best they can fit now. I am thankful for Kennedy in a way that takes my breath away.

And so, as you pile your plate full of whatever goodness is served up today, take a quick minute. Think of something or someone you are thankful for and tell them; show them. I, myself, do not stop often enough, take a step back and stop breathing in the chaos long enough to take in-really marinate in- all of the things I have to be thankful for.  The holidays make me sad now, there is no getting around that.  I cannot help but notice the empty chair that will always be there.  But I will tell you this though, my friends, gratitude goes a long way in healing a broken heart.