“…A short optimistic quote isn’t cheap. It can be forged in pain and have the strength of survival. It can reframe your whole perspective…”
No longer curled up in the womb
Held down, yet free falling
these waters threaten to drown
Tunnel to freedom…now an unending corridor
Gestation had a time limit…does this?
The quadruple bypass had been a total success. The family began to let their shoulders down and breath a little easier, until…that first meal! Those infamous cornflakes – tasty clusters of flakes, yet deadly to a paralyzed, empty stomach. The first spoonful hit the stomach producing nausea, stomach cramps and pain, making the stomach bloat with extreme speed. The symptoms had now become agonizing with no sign of relief. Rushed to the OR! Doctors in desperate search of what had caused this drastic turn of events, and trying to figure out how and why this was happening while he was slowly making a positive recovery from his heart surgery.
The family lingers in the room waiting for an update. The nurse comes in and says, “He’s losing a lot of blood. Are any of you able to give blood for him?” We are willing. After some tests, it turns out only two of his kids are a match. One has been using so he’s out. The youngest of them all is taken to the room where she’ll sit as the precious life giving liquid flows out of her veins.
Waiting and more waiting. Finally, a doctor approaches. “We did all we could…” Words that you hope would only be said in movies, but no, this is real. Before any emotion can be shown, the doctor whispers to the widow, “If you want to take him now without waiting, we are going to have to wheel him out as if he is still alive. Otherwise, you might not get him for days, or even months due to all the red tape.” She, “strong-as-nails”, her norm, says, “I’m taking him now!”
The family is then asked to “stuff all their feelings and emotions” and act as if nothing has happened.
The gurney in front, the family behind…as if…all is good.
The body is delivered to the family home, and is customary in that culture, they will dress and prepare him for the all night wake.
Two of his five sons and his two daughters enter “that room”. He is wrapped in sheets. They approach and start unwrapping…GASP!!! UGH!!! The sight, the smells, the liquids! “How? why? Could they have closed him up? Can someone else do this? This can’t be happening!”
One white shirt after another, stained…useless. “We” aren’t equipped for this?” “This should be done by a funeral home.” Nope, this is us and this is how we roll…yeah…swallow that!
Somehow, he is prepped and ready for the all night wake and viewing of the tons of mourners that will come and pay their respects. Rosaries, prayers, coffee, chatter. Tomorrow, he will be carried through the streets of his village, ending at the cemetery with the proper burial. Then the people will scatter, life will continue as usual…
BUT those four “kids” will live with those images of their Dad. Neither will talk to each other about it; neither will talk about it to anyone…because that just how this family rolls.
It’s grocery shopping day. Gym√ Breathing and Meditation√ Driving with soothing music, and more purposeful breathing√
Grocery list in hand, let’s get this done without an “episode”…breathe…breathe!
Woman next to me drops a steel container…HUGE THUD followed by smaller ones, not because they are quieter but because my “brain exploded“…
the ringing in my ears is deafening…headache…trembling…shaking hands and legs, the whole body…do I hide, I can’t…I need to run and get out of here, I’m paralyzed…let’s get this done, how do I continue?…stupid woman, doesn’t she know? she doesn’t; she didn’t do it on purpose…scream, you can’t, it’s a public place…can they see me shaking? who cares!…more noise, really?!…my skin is crawling with ants, no it’s not…God, help me!…I can’t breath, yes you can…I’m going to vomit, seriously, here?! stop it!
I’m out, safe in my car. Now I need to drive home…how did I get home? Curl up in my comfy (safe) rocker, all blinds closed…sleep…sleep…sleep. Wake up exhausted, detached from reality…what day is it? what time? did I eat? do I eat? I hate this! what happened? how did I get home? Do I care? I’m going crazy! Who am I?
The brain is quiet, for now. The body is calm, for now. But, I wonder…when will it happen again???
gloom within – gloom without
strength within – strength without
Fragments splattered all over the place
Disconnected, so painfully aware…yet somehow unaware
Reality seen from afar…is anything real?
Floating blissfully free…yet held tightly by the chains
Nails digging deep, oh so deep…pain? what pain?
Relentless, ongoing…God, will this ever end?!
As my life journey continues, I’m having to think, and rethink…and think some more some things that have been said to me, implied or I’ve said in the form of remarks, cliches, sayings. A couple of “titles” I’m chewing on, asking questions, digging deeper…simply meditating.
“Princess” – If a “princess” then I am entitled to royal treatment. My crown in place, not a hair out of place, face on, constant smile (cause who wants a sad or frowning princess, right?). Sitting primp and proper on her beautiful throne, high above anything and anyone. Expecting to be served, entitled to a happy full life. Every desire met. Her word is law! Reminds me of the Porcelain Doll
“Warrior” – the title alone commands awe and admiration. A picture of one with full body armor, stance ready to pounce, to win. Raging on, taking captives, winning against everything and everyone, cause “losing” is NOT an option. “Surrendering” would be a sign of weakness, a thought that shouldn’t even cross the mind of such a specimen. Superheros aren’t adulated for their humanity, right? They are “super natural beings” with “supernatural powers”. Able to leap tall buildings in a single bound.
Signs of weakness and thoughts of surrender are NOT an option! No tears, no sadness…not allowed to be human with ups and downs and all the emotions that come with them. “I am woman, hear me roar! I can bring home the bacon, fry it up in a pan…” “I got this!” “No pain, no gain!”…and on and on.
Depression, panic-attacks, anxiety, PTSD are deep dark secrets, full of guilt and shame, hiding in the shadows. Therapy is a four-letter word. Princesses and Warriors don’t need any “help”. Days that lay you out, cradling your body in a fetal position, rocking back and forth hoping it will silence the voices, the pain, the screams…shhhhh, don’t tell anyone, what will they think? Princesses and Warriors don’t go down, they are always standing, pushing through, reigning and conquering.
Can we be allowed to be simply human? Is that not enough???