Oh, The Nerve(s)

the night before a surgery isn’t a relaxed one

Cup, Tea, Porcelain, Drink, Decor, Break, Still Life
Pixabay, No attribution required

This one will be brief.

I’m nervous. But since I like to look for the elusive silver-lining (seriously, WHAT is a silver-lining anyway?) I thought I’d make a quick list to help me re-focus my thoughts from the nervous energy, the Prednisone coursing through me that makes me a raging meanie (currently with heartburn) and keep my mind off the dismal surgery outcomes for tomorrow.

At least I have a supportive family, who loves me (and who better do the dishes if I am sleeping )

At least my SO has already mentioned making sure we had plenty of soup in the house–perhaps he’ll feed ME!

At least if I can’t eat much i might lose weight. (Ok unlikely but I’ll even take 2 lbs if it’s a LOSS.)

At least there’s netflix.

At least this is a one-time thing!

A least there’s a chair on my front porch that I can sit in to listen to the birds–and it’s supposed to be a pretty day tomorrow!

At least I am reading a good book.

At least I start a poetry workshop on Friday!!! I won’t be able to talk but I can listen.

At least, even in fear, pushing through makes us stronger.

At least the Prednisone isn’t forever–and my family members have already devised a safety plan for themselves. (Yes, I am THAT awful on this stuff.)

At least, I know, that no matter what, God’s got me, my family’s got me, and I am tough.

At least the Gofundme raised the money I need for the surgery!

I asked Robbie “What if the nerve’s messed up and I can’t smile anymore?”

He said “Baby I’ll love you no matter what, besides you don’t smile with your mouth, you smile with your eyes.”

I am so blessed.

Domestic Abuse on a Good Friday

20 Years ago today was the worst day of my life

https://www.pexels.com/photo/adult-black-and-white-body-dark-271418/

Twenty years ago today was the worst day of my life.

Three days later as I stood in church with my children I remember very clearly a few things:

  • My throat was damaged from being choked and I could not sing the hymns. I could barely speak in a hoarse voice.
  • My children, two small boys, were wearing their suits; I do not remember who got their suits out of the closet, ironed them, or got them dressed.
  • My hair was very short; I always cut my hair when I got upset or had been abused to the point of hating myself and wanting to punish myself.
  • Strange things were happening; people appeared in front of me and it surprised or frightened me. I suddenly would realize where I was without knowing I was there. Blocks of time seemed to be missing. I learned later at the hospital that I had a concussion. When the kind doctor tried to feel my neck I completely freaked out and had to be sedated.

The events of the abuse that night before Good Friday are so fresh in my mind that I could recount them to you in great detail even now, 20 years later. 20 years ago today I went to work in a dazed, traumatized stupor and took my lunch break to drive to the courthouse to get a 50-B restraining order against my husband (now ex-husband.)

“I need to have my husband removed from my home and get a restraining order. (insert details of attack here.)” said a devastated and nearly destroyed me.

“But where will he live?” the lady asked me.

–things you should NEVER say to an abuse victim.

I have been diagnosed with PTSD.

The diagnosis came 18 years later.

Enough about the worst day of my life, the details of which I carry inside my gut like shards of glass…I want to share with you the poem I wrote about that day in church 20 years ago, with my two boys, both also traumatized, standing next to me. I have sometimes used poetry as a healing force in my life and this was perhaps the most important poem I have ever written. I very rarely share it. But with Easter Day looming, my memories get the better of me and I find myself wrestling with the inner turmoil all over again, no matter how much distance is put between me and that day. Here is the poem:

Three Days After

Three days ago
I heard you screaming.

I crawled through darkness
to find you.

Today I heard you
singing hymns that save
and lift me off the floor.

I don’t have to crawl anymore.

I stand
in the rising of
my Savior.

Lift your eyes my son,
flowers grow from crosses
everyday.

We don’t have to cry anymore.

If you or anyone you know is suffering from Domestic Violence, help is available to you. There IS HOPE. https://www.thehotline.org/