Recently, I moved to a little place in the woods. I’m surrounded by trees and fresh air. It’s been quite a grounding experience. In the short amount of time that I’ve been here, I feel like I have more mental clarity and am finally able to stabilize in ways that I wasn’t even expecting. I lost a piece of myself after my car accident. Some days it feels like I lose a little piece of myself with every pain, with every added hardship, with every doubt. Hope can be hard to find, that was especially true at the beginning. I’ve come out of that experience with more gratitude and humility… probably trust too. On the days where hope didn’t exist, there was a darkness that felt impossible and heavy. Over the last two months, I got to walk alongside that darkness. It was hard to do but ultimately, I feel so much stronger now. I feel like I’ve been gifted this opportunity to heal and in order for me to be successful in my healing, I needed to embrace the pain. That is what strengthens my recovery… every single time. My ability to sit in the ugly, dark, painful truth and still find hope.
“The degree to which you are willing to embrace the pain of recovery, is the degree to which you will recover.”
– Unknown
I took a leap of faith moving out into the woods, and it only took 3 short weeks to get me to this place that I feel ready. Ready for what, I don’t know. But I know that this time has been necessary to help me prepare myself for how the rest of this journey shows up. I know that the trees can take away my worries and fears. I know that the fresh mountain water can cleanse away the burdens that are not mine to carry. I know that the songs the birds are singing are sung just for me. These blessings are a gift of life and hope. When I think about where I am in this moment, I get overwhelmed with fear and excitement. The fear probably comes from a place of not feeling good enough or like I’ll fail, which I’m just going to hand right on over to my Higher Power and not let that drive my behaviors. Instead, I’ll sit in the excitement and have gratitude that I get to go on this journey. If you had ever told me that I would be right where I am, I wouldn’t have believed you. And yet here I am living it. I can’t attribute any of it to me being lucky or the stars aligning in my favor. I can attribute it to blind faith. Because when I had no other options, faith was what brought me through. It was all the years of practice that made it possible for me to even consider faith in my darkest times. Now it is a part of my testimony. I know from lived experience that you can turn around any negative, into a positive, and any darkness into light. In the past, fear is what carried me through most things… now, it’s faith. So, I will continue to show up in my faith, with both confidence and conviction.
Over the last couple of months, I have finally had the capacity to do some reflection on everything that has occurred over the last two years. I have been taking much needed time to heal and recover Physically, Intellectually, Emotionally, and Spiritually. What a journey it’s been. It’s brought up many feelings and lots of questions. Some of the things that stand out to me are pain, sadness, grief, resilience, forgiveness, serenity, gratitude, and joy. I don’t think I’ll be able to put it into words in a way that can give it justice. What I can do, is share with you pieces of the journey that might offer some clarity. The thing that comes to mind first is to share my most recent doctor’s appointment and some of the challenges I’m still having. Before even going into the doctor’s office, I pretty much begged the doctor’s medical team to have the doctor review my medical history before meeting with me, with the emphasis that I want to rebuild trust to continue my care. My anxiety about that appointment was through the roof, but my therapist had assigned this task as homework for me to do before our next session and I knew it needed to be done. I had reservations though. I didn’t want to be treated the way I had in the past. I wanted them to take my request seriously. I just wanted an opportunity to further my healing. I didn’t want to go in there with my dukes up, but my lived experience through this accident stuff had me not trusting anyone in the primary care department. For a week leading up to the appointment, I was a mess every time it came to mind. I had to continuously use my tools, reason things out with my closest support people, and stay in contact with my Higher Power. By the time the morning came, my nerves were wrecked! I pushed through anyways and rehearsed the Serenity Prayer many times leading up to me standing in front of their building. I took a deep breath and made my way in. Somehow, I stayed fully present through the check-in process and walked step by step to the second floor. I sat there for a moment unable to read or concentrate like I was used to in the past. This time I anxiously got up and paced between entry ways not knowing which direction they would be coming out from, until I settled in a spot that gave me a full view where no one could surprise me. Repeating the Serenity Prayer some more and focusing on my breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Repeat. Doing my best to keep my heart rate down. They finally called me back to the exam room, and somehow, through this I still managed to be present with each foot forward. They got my weight and vitals, then I sat down. I remember the gal helping me from prior interactions, she always gave me the vibe that she genuinely cares about what she does so I found myself uncontrollably blurting out “I don’t want to be here”. She responded with compassion and asked me questions, so I went on to explain to her some of my experiences that led to the outburst, and she reassured me, gave me helpful advice, and offered me empathy. I appreciated her response to my reaction. She finally left and told me the doctor would be in shortly. I honestly don’t recall how long it took, but it seemed like he was there pretty quickly. I never did see his face since he had a mask on, but I know in my heart that I will always remember him as the person who saw me. And I mean really saw me. He started with an introduction and pleasantries, and quickly announced that he reviewed my chart and then asked me for a picture of what’s going on. I went on to explain to him the surgical history, the important details about the accident, and my physical symptoms (I don’t need to share more about those), that he needed to know to feel good about processing my request for pelvic floor therapy.
“You get in life what you have the courage to ask for.”
– Oprah Winfrey
This doctor was great and truly handled my care with dignity and respect. He saw me as a person and honored everything I have been through since my accident. He validated my anxiety and unease about being in that clinic and told me that I have every right to feel the way I do, and that my PTSD is very real. He verbalized how proud of me he was for getting myself off all the medications and he cleared my med list without pushing more meds on me. I don’t manage my symptoms with narcotics or muscle relaxers anymore; I use a wide array of alternative methods that do not compromise my personality or ability to be present. The list of things I do to help myself to stay healthy is extensive. He asked me some questions to see how much of my daily functioning has been impacted, and he encouraged me to put full effort into the pelvic floor therapy in hopes that I will see improvements. He shared with me the type of practices that may be offered and even shared a personal story of a loved one that regained function after participating in those practices. I felt reassured and hopeful. Then we got into how much of my cognitive functioning has been affected. I shared with him that my therapist was concerned about a TBI. He asked if I hit my head, I said “no”. Then he asked me to share some of the symptoms that lead to that concern. I went on to explain to him that relationships have changed, I don’t recognize familiar people, I forget names and events, I struggle with decision-making and problem solving, words are often hard to find, difficulty expressing thoughts or understanding others, unable to process information, getting overwhelmed easily, forgetting where I am, memory loss, unable to collect thoughts when too much is happening around me, just to name a few. He let me know that the amount of nerve damage I’ve experienced has affected my cognitive functioning and that he cannot guarantee I will get it back but encouraged me to keep doing what I’m doing. I found his approach to me very kind and felt that he met me where I was at by getting on my level. He took the time to understand me instead of just pushing his own will on me or treating me as less than. I am so grateful that I walked into that clinic with courage, and that I asked for what I needed. He helped me regain some hope and trust. Both medical staff I met with gave me the tools I need to get my complex needs met; a much better interaction than I have had in the past.
My journey of recovery and rehabilitation is a work in progress. I continue to find ways to adjust and improve my overall well-being. I find joy more often, that’s good. I have my good days and bad days, and just as I’ve said before, even my bad days mean something. I am blessed that I can walk without assistance. I have a whole community of people standing with me, that I am beyond grateful for. Life as I know it will never be the same, but it is a life worth living after all.
It’s been over two months since I wrote last. I’ve been taking the time I need to recover Physically, Intellectually, Emotionally, And Spiritually (known as PIES). There is still much work to be done. As of now though, my hip is doing well. The surgeon was very optimistic at my 3-month post-op appointment. She even cleared me for exploring alternative low-impact cardio and jogging in the pool. That’s very exciting. I’m still in physical therapy and will be for some time. It’s going good for the most part. I still overdo it occasionally, but overall, I’m finding balance with my hip and my back. Now that the hip is doing well, my nerve damage is prominent, so we are exploring ways to change the way I live with the pain and practicing ways to quiet the nerves signals. We have been doing yoga stretches, and started some nerve desensitization work which has been very challenging. Last week I got about 40 minutes of partial relief using desensitization techniques, and when the relief faded, the pain returned higher than it was before. It took me days to recover from it. On Friday I felt relief during the float tank session I had. I honestly had about 50 minutes of complete pain relief. What they don’t tell you about pain, is that when you have it constantly making noise in your brain and you never get relief, when you finally do get relief, it’s going to hit like a ton of bricks. It’ll flood you with clarity, a new perspective so to speak, high emotions of grief and sadness, solutions to problems, and an abundance of more things to think about. For someone like me who lives with this constant high pain, those pain-free moments are divine. That’s where I connect most with my Higher Power and where I can deeply meditate, to a place of temporary tranquility. It’s the after affects that are the hardest.
You see, I can literally count on both hands the number of hours of pain relief that I have had in the last 534 days. There was the 1 hour after getting a steroid injection in my hip; after the hour was up, my pain became so intense I was bed ridden after. It hurt to stand, walk, or drive. And that night, I bawled like a baby I was so overwhelmed with all of the emotions that hit me during that hour. Then there were the 3 hours I had during my surgery. They gave me the anesthesia (it’s funny, I refused to count down and chatted them all up until I was knocked out), and then I woke up. I may not remember those 3 hours, but I never once had pain on the brain. It’s just a blip of darkness in my memory bank, with no benefit that I can identity outside of the obvious… surgery on the hip. Then there was the 1.5 hours I got this last week. That hour and a half deserves a much better explanation and I’ll tell ya why here shortly. Before then, I want to point out that that is a total of 5.5 hours of pain relief… out of 12,816 hours since the pain started. Feel free to do the math to find out the percentage of time that I live pain-free. And as much as I am grateful for those hours, I hope my share today can offer insight and understanding for those who do not live with chronic pain like this. But maybe you know someone who does. I have been challenged in ways I never thought I’d have to face. I have had to accept things I wish I didn’t have to. Recently it’s even come to my attention that I will never be able to go back to the way things were, because even if I work hard at it, the amount of time it’s going to take me to get to where I’m striving for is going to come with its own set of behaviors, challenges, and trauma. Things I have to be super vigilant about in this journey, or just things I’ll have to overcome when I get to where I’m going. And since my capacity is so limited, I’m not sure I can keep up so there’s bound to be work that needs to be done. It’s going to be really important that I make myself a priority… always. My brain doesn’t work the same way anymore. There are literal times when the pain is so high, I don’t even recognize my surroundings. Collecting a complete thought becomes impossible. I forget words. It’s like I hit a wall and then bam, I’m mush. My brain is different now, and I’m still trying to figure out how to adapt to this new way of life.
“Understanding is the first step to acceptance, and only with acceptance can there be recovery.”
– JK Rowling
Now back to the hour and a half of pain relief I had. I felt this needed more explanation to offer clarity for those interested in deeper understanding. It was time split between two activities. The first was my physical therapy session; as mentioned above, we started working on desensitizing the nerves. I may have received some relief but the after affects might not have been worth it. I’m still taking inventory on that. The days following were very challenging, in all areas of my being. Though I do have the tools I need to do that work at home now, let me make it clear… it is hard work. But I can now introduce the desensitization work into my life, slow and steady. It’s just going to take time. We’ll probably do that work again in PT here in the next few weeks, but the homework I’m doing won’t be nearly as intense as those sessions. Hopefully by that time, I’ll have built up some tolerance by then. The second activity was the float tank. An hour session gives me about 50 minutes of relief, where I literally have no pain as I am floating. I am beyond grateful that I found something that helps me have pain relief in this way so that I can take a mental break when needed. It’s not something I can do all the time right now, but once every couple of weeks is reasonable. I look forward to my next session. In time, I’m positive and hopeful that I’ll find other ways to get relief. Nerve damage is a challenging thing to navigate. I don’t know if I will ever get relief in the sense that I’ll have pain-free days, and that’s a hard thing to accept. But I do plan to continue to work in the direction of healing, whatever that might look like.
As of now, I’m still recovering from that pain-free time from the float tank. My brain is mush. So, I have no choice but to take extra good care of myself. Being that I am a mother and its Mother’s Day, I’m choosing to stay in sweatpants and do nothing short of what I want. In this moment, that’s to write this out so that I can move through to further healing. My hope is to do this again sooner now that I know what I’m up against. Acceptance is something that takes time and practice. I’m grateful for all the opportunities I’ve had that helped me work through this current journey. It allows me to put acceptance into practice with more ease. And when we can practice acceptance, we open up the space for us to have peace and serenity, in the middle of any storm. I encourage you to check out my latest YouTube video above, “Five Seconds of Courage”. I talked about powerlessness. I couldn’t have got myself to this place of clarity so quickly without admitting I was powerless and truly accepting what is. To practice powerlessness is to practice acceptance, and that is hard work. But not impossible. For many of us, powerlessness and acceptance do not come naturally. It takes hard, intentional work to practice those things. It’s like a muscle. You have to use it to build muscle strength and endurance. And if you’re not aware of the fact that you are or are not practicing powerlessness and acceptance, trust me when I say that you are causing harm to yourself and others. It might be time to take a personal inventory. Maybe ask yourself “Am I trying to control the outcome?” or “Is this something I have control over?” or how about “Is this my Higher Power’s will or my own?”. Asking yourself these questions might offer you some insight. I for one, am glad to be in a place where I can identify and let go of the things that are out of my control. I’m glad I have the courage to change the things I can. It sure helps lighten the load of all the burdens I do carry. There’s no point of me carrying burdens that I have no control over. Plus, it helps me stay healthy enough so that I can more easily identify when I’m maybe not operating at my best, so that I can tend to my own needs and continue on in my journey of healing. For now, I will Listen and Learn about myself and the things around me, so that I can mindfully and intentionally grow through what I go through, no matter the difficulties. Stay tuned, the best has yet to come.
The last week has been the hardest since the surgery. I was beyond irritable, snapping at everything, and the anger was just building up. I knew something wasn’t right. I made the decision to take myself off of my pain meds. It was necessary. As soon as I was able to be more clear headed, I was hit with waves of grief. I spent two days in bed, trying to feel my feelings. There were lots of tears, and honestly, I’m still working through it all. It always amazes me how grief likes to sneak up when we are at our most vulnerable. Grief is something that I have come to embrace and process in healthy ways. It looks much different now in my life than it did for all the years before my recovery. It was so uncomfortable at first, I wanted nothing to do with it. It was scary, stressful, painful, sad. All things I didn’t want to feel. Nor did I have the tools or support to grieve in any healthy way. After knowing how to shove it down for so many years, being healthy about it was not something I knew anything about. I sure came to learn though how not grieving showed up in my life… through anger, irritability, depression, fear, overthinking, obsession, poor coping. I could go on. What matters now is that I have all the tools and support to help me identify when I’m not doing well and how to move through grief in ways that don’t affect my life in negative ways any longer. Learning about the different stages of grief was a big part of the process of learning to cope in a positive manner. Denial. Anger. Bargaining. Depression. Acceptance. And each of those stages has unique ways of working through them. Even after all these years, I still move through the stages of grief of things I thought I’d accepted, and I have to work through the process all over again. You see, grief is overwhelming sadness and a series of goodbyes. It comes in waves. Just when you think that you moved through something, there is a chance of being re-triggered and having to start the process all over again. As long as you are aware enough to come out of denial, you will be able to move through the next stages that much easier. And it truly does get easier each time. The recent days I was feeling irritable, I knew that I was feeling something that I wasn’t processing properly. Every little thing was making me angry and sensitive. By taking myself off of my pain meds, I gave myself the headspace to truly see what was going on. Grief. Grieving something I’ve worked on grieving for many years, and somehow every time I am vulnerable, it comes up again and I’m working through it all over again. Something will pop up and it’s back to step one… back to basics. That’s okay. I sure am grateful that I have the ability to pick myself up when I am back there again, because I’ve come to learn that it’s a normal part of the process of working through our emotions in healthy ways. And you know what? It’s okay to not be okay. As long as we don’t stay there. Grief is meant to visit. It’s what helps us grow. I for one, wouldn’t be who I am today if it wasn’t for the grief that I’ve experienced. Grief is proof that love existed and the loss of whatever it is, was painful because that love was there. By denying grief and not working through it properly, we deny love. We deny honoring what the love gave us. Why would we do that? It might be uncomfortable to truly feel grief, I get it. But by denying it, we are denying our true, raw, authentic feelings. So… for the next few days, I plan to take extra care of myself and really feel my feelings. Work through the grief. And honor what it is giving to me. I know it will fade again, as it always does. I also know that the grief will be back again, as it always is. And that’s okay. Because honoring grief, and truly letting it show up in my life, is proof that love existed. That’s something I need because there are more days that I have forgotten that, than there are days I remember it. Just for today, I will go back to basics, taking things one day at a time, accepting I am powerless, and using the tools I have been so blessed to receive.
God, grant me the serenity, to accept the things I cannot change. Courage to change the things I can. And wisdom to know the difference.
– Serenity Prayer
Though grief may not seem like it should be a part of my physical recovery, it plays a much bigger role than you’d think. For me to be intellectually, emotionally, and spiritually healthy, I have to work through it so that I can be strong enough to push through my physical healing. These are important parts of ourselves that need the most tender love and care. Otherwise, I know I risk remaining irritable, angry, and depressed, causing more harm to myself and others around me. If you are struggling with grief, reach out for help. Admit to yourself and someone else that you are struggling. We are not meant to go through grief on our own. Rely on your community, on your family and friends. Let them show up for you. And pray. The grief is worth honoring, no matter what stage or how long ago the loss happened. Grief knows no time limit. If you can practice the things I mentioned above, you will grow, heal, and find gratitude, and that’s a beautiful gift worth working toward.
Through my grief, I have found ways to express myself, self care, and to give back, to ensure I’m honoring everything I’ve received through the healing process and what I’ve learned along the way. I feel called to a higher purpose of sharing my experience, strength, and hope, to help others in their own journey of recovery. And in order for me to be successful in this, I must practice self care every day. An act many of us could do better in. To grieve and grow in healthy ways, we must learn and practice the art of self care. Because self care is the best care we can give ourselves, to help us be successful through the challenging process known as recovery.
Well, I am three days Post-Op and am doing surprisingly well! Honestly, I feel better than I expected. I even feel better now than I did the first six months after the accident. I am feeling pretty optimistic. I have challenges of course, I just had surgery after all. My hip and leg are sore, tender, and weak, however, the pain I had pre-surgery is almost non-existent. That is really promising! It could be the meds I’m on, or it could be that the surgery was much more successful than I anticipated. Time will tell. I’ve been able to get on the spin bike to keep my hip moving. I’m supposed to ride it twice a day. I started at two minutes and have to increase my time by one minute every other day. It’s not easy by any means, but it’s totally doable. I’m up to three minutes. This morning was difficult, but I took the queues that my body needed rest and that’s what I did. Here in a week, I’ll start physical therapy. That I think will be the hardest part of all of this for me. It was the hardest part after the accident. I have firsthand knowledge of what it will take, and I am prepared to put in the work. My support has been amazing. My mental health is in a good place. Overall, I am doing really well. The last year has prepared me for this part of my journey. Taking things slow and steady is what is helping me operate at my best. Slow and steady was my theme for 2022, so I got a lot of practice. I must say too, that all the time I spent on crutches after the accident, really helped me prepare for this. I am able to get around pretty good and I’m fully present. I’m slow and my hip/leg doesn’t move well, but I anticipate it won’t take long to get some of my mobility back. I feel truly blessed to have my lived experience and a strong supportive community, that help me through this time in my life. When I think back to the challenges I’ve had to face over the last 14 months since the accident, this seems like a small chapter of that story.
“Radical Acceptance is the willingness to experience ourselves and our life as it is. A moment of Radical Acceptance is a moment of genuine freedom.”
– Tara Brach, 2004
To be totally transparent, I expected this part of the journey to include way more tears and more moments of wanting to give up. I definitely wasn’t expecting to feel so good and being able to be as present as I have been. That’s not to say I won’t have my moments, but this is a great start to everything I have coming. I’m grateful to have much of my independence through this. I’ve had to set myself up with assisted devices and ask for a lot of help, so that I could maintain my independence. Especially as a single individual. Anyone going through something like this could attest to the fact that losing one’s independence is a hard part of these types of journey’s. I have so many doohickey’s at home to help me though. From a sock aid, toilet riser, body pillow, grabber, to furniture risers, leg lifter strap and shower chair. It’s the little things that make a huge difference in me being able to maintain good mental health. I think if I didn’t have that type of help, I’d be pretty upset and struggle much more. Of course, there are some things that I just have to accept are on hold and will come in time. That’s okay. I’ve been working on acceptance for some time now. It just gets easier and easier with each opportunity. I’m glad I was able to find the space to give an update. Writing is such a helpful way for me to express myself and to work through what I’m going through. Not to mention the opportunity for reflection. I’ll work to give another update within a week or so, especially to check in when the physical therapy starts. In the meantime, I will focus on my healing and my physical recovery, and in this moment, it’s nap time! Stay tuned everyone. More to come!
I’ve probably started and erased this blog post more than 30 times in the last few weeks. It’s been hard finding the space to really be vulnerable and share anything of value. I’ve had to get real with myself. It hasn’t been easy. These last few weeks I continue to block myself from pushing forward in my writing because I get too overwhelmed with emotion, and I just don’t have the mental capacity to add anything to what I’m already going through. My eye is literally twitching uncontrollably because I am giving more than I have to offer as it is. My life is already at the bare, bare minimum of what I can carry right now. So, I’ve been working hard to hand things over. I’ve had lots of opportunities to practice, which I am grateful for. The thing is, it’s getting harder and harder to be honest about how I’m feeling without crying… I know it will make people even more uncomfortable than they already are around me. And I’ve been so worried about how I’m going to make other people feel, when this isn’t even about them, it’s about me. It’s about what I’m going through and using my tools to heal through things in positive ways. Writing is a tool I use to express myself. It just is requiring much self-care ahead of time, to truly find the courage to write publicly right now. I’ve been prepping for a couple days now to write this post. And I’ll tell ya, I worked hard at taking care of myself, being vulnerable with people about what I’m going through, and having lots of conversations with my Higher Power. Funny too because if I’m not specific about my needs, my Higher Power has a really great sense of humor, and he will absolutely get my attention. Which he has… often. Now here I am, because my Higher Power told me this is exactly what I should be doing in this moment to take care of myself, and it’s the thing that my heart is drawing me to. I know that has a lot to do with how much lighter I will feel when I finally let things out, and it’s an easier platform to be open about what I’m going through, without worry of shame or judgment. Now, where to begin…
Let me just start with the one thing that I am struggling with the most… my physical health. It’s a couple of things really. One, being in pain all day every day, is hard. Two, recently my doctor told me that the odds of success if they operate on my hip, is less than half. I think she was being generous with her words. She told me that she wants me to prepare for this being a permanent disability. That’s a lot to take in. For the last few months, I’ve been working hard on forgiveness towards my medical care team, and I’ve finally been heard by my primary after all this time. The quality of care that I received at my last visit, really made a difference in how I received that information. It was the first time I had seen my doctor have compassion. We are now working on trying to figure out how to find balance, without the use of narcotics. I do have a consult with an Orthopedic Surgeon on Halloween to have more scans done and go over any options I might have. The thing is, that any surgery to repair my hip won’t help a spinal cord injury, which they continue to suspect. And I do too. Hopefully I’ll have an update to share after the consult. It’s hard not to carry resentment about the fact that they likely neglected to diagnose me correctly, which caused permanent damage, making it nearly impossible for me to walk unassisted without lots of pain, if at all. I miss walking. I miss activities. I miss candle making. I miss feeling functional. I miss so many things. I know that I will get some of these things back. It will just take time and continuing to find balance. This whole process has been a grieving process. Every day, I grieve. And since I’ve learned to honor grief and truly embrace what it has to offer, I honor each opportunity. That’s how I know I will get the most out of the experience. There is an art to grieving, and it’s a journey to figure out how to navigate it. What I do know, is that gratitude is an important part of grief. There was this grief opportunity I was presented with, and I ended up with so much forgiveness and gratitude in the end, it’s hard to believe that it was even grief. Hard to believe, isn’t it? It’s totally true though. I worked on forgiveness and gratitude every single day, and that’s what I got. I needed that lesson. Since grief is a journey, it continuously comes up for me, and every time, I am filled with forgiveness and gratitude, because that is what I seek. I welcome the feelings in, embrace them, then let them leave. I don’t live in them, not anymore. I honor them and politely ask them to go. You see, grief, has a way of making itself at home in us. That’s when the most damage is done, without us even knowing it. By honoring the feelings and letting them go, we are creating a safe space to process grief and practicing tools that help us heal and grow. And the good thing is, that no one is ever in it alone. There is a world of people out there waiting to help someone in their journey… grief included. I am blessed to be surrounded by a very supportive community who uplifts me and keeps me growing in positive ways. Everyone is deserving of that.
Another thing that has been hard, is raising a teenager with mental health challenges. I feel so helpless these last few weeks… months… year really. All I can do, is to continue to show up for him. Continue to work hard at being my healthiest self, so that I can help him navigate what he is going through. I can only imagine how hard all of this has been for him. Our worlds got turned around and we have been pushed to limits, we didn’t even know we had. That kid carries way more than he should. And he isn’t willing to lighten the load knowing I am physically hurting. So, I just do anything and everything I can, to help him through this and make sure that he is doing stuff for himself, keeping himself healthy. We continue to work to find balance every day. This requires that I remain a present parent. And there are just some days, that I am barely capable of doing that… so it takes all I have, and everything else gets put on hold. Balance is a difficult thing to find in chaos. And let me tell you, the more you put on hold, the more there is to pick up when the time comes. I just have to offer myself lots of grace and trust that by taking things One Step At A Time, I’m doing the right thing for me to get through this. Sometimes that’s not an easy thing to trust… because on the outside I am holding back tears, and on the inside, I am screaming and pleading “how am I going to get through this?!”. Other times the tears come uncontrollably with no way to organize my thoughts. Then there are days like now, where I’ve had to let go of so much, my eye is literally twitching, for weeks now. No amount of self-care is helping with everything going on. I know I am on the verge of a transformation; I can feel it. There was even a dragonfly in front of me while I drove down the driveway recently. He just hovered there, and the word transformation came to mind. It would make sense. It feels like a lot of work though. I don’t know how I would be able to handle a transformation, while also balancing physical health, parenting, work, and all the things, but I guess bring it on since my Higher Power seems to believe I can handle it. That’s so much stuff, in this moment, I just don’t think I have it in me. As it is already, anything that feels like too much, just makes me sleep. I get exhausted from any amount of added stress, then I just don’t function well. I will literally just fall asleep. And truth be told, I am no longer capable of what I once was. It seems like every time I get something figured out, another thing comes. It’s been a revolving door of stuff to carry. When things get too heavy, in comes grief again. Oh, and did I mention that grief doesn’t always mean that someone died… grief can be very complex. It can be relationships, trauma, the loss of support. Grief is an overwhelming sadness and a series of goodbyes. That’s why it’s not healthy to let grief be at home with us. Being exposed to chronic grief, will affect who you are as a person, and not in a positive way. It’s so important for us to take care of ourselves, and truly understand what emotion is driving our behaviors. Welcoming grief to visit, can be a good way to get perspective… just don’t let it live there. Instead, try to practice finding gratitude in the grief when the visit is over. Gratitude really is a key. Prayer helps too.
“Gratitude is the gift of sight in the darkest times.”
– Unknown
I feel slightly better now that I’ve been able to share some. I’m a little nervous about hitting the publish button though. This is just such a small snippet of what I am going through. I feel like I haven’t even touched the surface. If I shared everything, you would wonder how it is that I have any serenity in my life. Serenity is not something that is easy to find and maintain… it’s taken years of being in active recovery, with intention, for me to have tools and support that help carry me through the hardships. And right now, these are some big hardships. Don’t mistake my hardships for misery though. The number of positive things that happen in my life is overwhelming to even put in words. Most of the time I just cry from gratitude. I have so much gratitude for everything, even in the grief, I find ways to heal through and gain tools to help me in future endeavors. The thing is, we are so often consumed by the grief we carry with us, that people are so disconnected. Connection is what we need. Connection is what helps people get better. Get uncomfortable. Be vulnerable. Build relationships. Get to know who you are at your core. Ask for help. Slow down and really take your time doing anything at all (that’s a great way to practice). Think about your choices. These are all actionable steps we can take, that will help us make connections, heal, and grow. Not overnight, so patience and grace are equally important components that have to make regular appearances into our lives. Honestly, it’s all a lot of hard work, and I’m not going to sugar coat it for you, you will want to give up often. You will fight with yourself all the time, wondering if it’s really worth the effort. And then one day, you just hit a point where you couldn’t imagine life any other way. You look around you and are surrounded by love and understanding. More of those things that we are all deserving of.
On a final note, I am happy to report that as of today secure housing has been found for my family. In just two short weeks, we will be moving into our new temporary home. A step in the right direction. We will be safe, in actual beds in bedrooms with doors. We will be able to rest and stabilize for our next part of this journey. I will be able to recover physically, no matter what that looks like. I am looking forward to sleeping in a bed and being able to walk around with my cane, rather than hanging on to everything in this trailer just to get from one end to the other. Ooh, and floor space for yoga! All of me needs yoga in my life… my physical self, my intellectual self, my emotional self, and my spiritual self. For the last year, my life has been chronically unmanageable. I finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. This has been quite the journey. I can’t deny the fact that I am nervous and scared about what is going to happen, but I am also hopeful and excited. I know that no matter what happens, I will be provided for because my Higher Power and my supportive community, are always there for me. Okay one more thing, I am also happy to share that it came to me what I will be doing next with this business. Since I will not be able to make candles and do business as I had previously envisioned, I will be bringing it new life. And the funny thing is, it will be even better than I could have imagined before. It’s just going to take a while before I can get my bearings. Hopefully by this time next year, I will have a solid plan and ready to share with all of you. I think a year is plenty of time. Candle making for me is such a self-care, meditative practice at this point, and I am missing being able to get myself so easily into that type of head space. My self-care needs are not being met. It’s much more challenging these days. I have always used my candle making to express my emotions and work through my healing, by pouring my emotions into something beautiful. It even continues to help the healing process as the candle burns, it’s pretty cool. My hope is that writing can take its place for now. Just as a tool while I am healing. Once we move, it’ll be easier to find the time and space, because I’ll have access to internet again and a private space to write in. Soon I will find balance, I am sure of it. Stay tuned followers, the best has yet to come.
It’s hard to know where to start when it’s been so long since I wrote last. I miss writing. The thing is, I’ve had to step way back and focus only on myself. It’s quite the challenge, but absolutely necessary. It’s meant that I have had to give up things I really enjoy. I’ve had to put dreams on hold. I’ve had to step away from relationships that don’t serve me. I’ve had to take a different path completely. I’ve also had to advocate for myself more than ever. I’ve had to work on forgiveness and acceptance. I’ve had to grow in ways I didn’t know I was capable of. Everything probably happened just the way it did so that I could be sitting right here and typing these exact words for you to read. It’s almost uncomfortable but then again, we grow when we are out of comfort zone.
For a little context, 9 months ago today, I had a car accident that turned my life upside down. It still manages to affect me today, in really big ways, but I have managed to get stronger and grow more each day. I don’t cry in pain anymore like I did… most days anyways. I’ve learned to adapt and work around the pain, so that I can continue to live my life and find any joy or serenity. Some days I don’t move and other days I move mountains. But even my days in bed mean something. Those are the days I am recouping my strength to keep on my journey. Some days I amaze myself that I have managed the way I have. I couldn’t have done it without my supportive community, that’s for sure. I am truly grateful for the support and proud of myself for how I have handled everything. Of course, I know this journey is far from over. There will be a lifetime of learning and growth. Afterall, I am an imperfect human being that has much to learn. I am filled with so much gratitude, I sometimes get overwhelmed that I don’t have enough physical energy to express it. The pain I’m in every waking moment, takes everything I have to give. It drains me often. I’ve been in survival mode now for a long time. I am tired. I’ve been tired. Truth is that my recovery saved me…. And continues to save me. If this would have happened 5-10 years ago, I probably would have ended my life. Then again… there have still been some days the thought has crossed my mind. Not as often anymore, but over the last 9 months, it still happened more times than I can count on both hands. A person in excruciating pain like this every day, can’t live a positive or healthy life without a large village of supporters. So, I’ve had to completely expose myself and allow others to pick up where I am not able. Talk about uncomfortable. I have been helped in more ways than I can express… and yet, there were literally still days it wasn’t enough. Giving things up just to have the mental capacity to survive, was all I could do. And there were days when something would take me off guard, or I wasn’t ready for, or were emotionally heavy, or even multiple things at once coming at me, and then it just made me mush. Almost as if I were incapable of functioning. I would literally beg and pray for any relief at that point. Eventually I gave up everything and said “Okay Higher Power, I’m listening…” and was led to where I am today. After that point, every step of the way I have consulted with my Higher Power. I have handed things over, kicking and screaming sometimes, and somehow everything turns out better than okay. And even though there is still quite a ways to go in my physical recovery, I know that my recovery journey is right on track.
The man who moves a mountain begins by carrying away small stones.
– Confucius
There are still many opportunities for me to work through forgiveness, acceptance, understanding and much more. All I can do is take things One Step At A Time and keep working my recovery. If I go any faster, I will fall backwards. Honestly, this time down with a physical ailment, is a true blessing. I’m sure I would have been much more resistant otherwise. Amazing how things work out the way they do. Now I am mostly stable. I get through each day with my pain. Some days are hard, but I have lots of support and tools to help me through. And… the doctors finally have a plan to help! That part was hard, and likely an area I need to work on forgiveness. Being told repeatedly that the pain is in your head or that it’s only a flare-up is super frustrating. It took everything I had to advocate for myself this whole time. To finally be heard. And to be kind through the process. There is no way someone feels this much pain 24 hours a day and it’s just nothing. I’m glad I was resilient and stood my ground. I’m glad I kept refusing to take no for an answer. Now that I know what’s wrong, there is some relief. I can carve out the time I need to give my body rest. There is anxiety too. Surgery feels like a big deal. Not to mention, my life is not really set up for surgery. It’s not something I even considered really, because for so long I was told something else. But there is so much hope! Hope for recovery. Hope for pain-free days to come. Hope for putting this hardship behind me. I may have to set aside my business, school, friendships, you name it… but in the end, I will be stronger and more capable when it comes time to pick up where I left off. And maybe most wouldn’t understand what I’m going through but it’s pretty incredible that this hardship… this journey… has given me the practice and strength to be unapologetically me. That sure counts for something.
It feels like a lifetime ago that I wrote a blog post (it’s been just over 8 weeks). I imagine it feels that way because of how different life is now. So many things have happened, and my journey isn’t close to over. I don’t want to get into all the nitty gritty details, but let’s just say that my recovery has been put to the test in so many ways and now I’m tired… really, really tired. I have had to step back and take real good care of myself and my family. It was the only option I’ve had for survival. I’ve been mostly stabilized for a few weeks now but reality is, I have a long ways to go before I recover from everything that happened after my car accident. There is much to learn from everything I have gone through. Pain has a way of breaking you down. I’m pretty sure I experienced every emotion possible over the last couple of months (7 months really). There have been many tears shed. Lots of conversations and pleas with my Higher Power. My life has fallen apart completely, and now I can pick up the pieces and rebuild. Honestly, I gave up trying to understand how I have made it through all this and why it all has happened the way it has. All I know, is that my recovery is how I survived. The tools I learned, the support I have, my relationship with God. I didn’t have any of those for a really long time. Everything I have ever been through, prepared me for these times. And it’s amazing to me because I feel stronger than ever. How that’s possible, I have no idea. I know deep in my core that I will come out of this with more strength, courage, wisdom, serenity, confidence, understanding, humility, resilience, fearlessness, perspective, hope, forgiveness, faith, acceptance, gratitude, trust, and so much more. Phew, that was a mouth full. These times have given me great opportunity to put my tools to test. Each time I overcome one of these hardships (and there are lots of hardships), I come out feeling stronger. I come out feeling proud of myself for everything I have learned and being able to put my tools to work. I come out having more trust in myself to do the next right thing. It would be so easy for me to focus on the negatives, but instead my recovery has given me an opportunity to do better. I am a work in progress, yet also a masterpiece.
The greatest gift to give the people you love is your recovery.
-Anonymous
Recovery has given me a beautiful gift. A gift of faith, hope and trust. A gift of peace and joy. When I think about life before recovery, I think of an empty shell. I remember feeling lots of anger, hate, humiliation, insecurities, rejection, anxiousness, submission, inadequacy, worthlessness, jealousy, powerlessness, shame, abandonment, and fear… lots and lots of fear. It was awful. I don’t even know if I knew what anything else felt like. I think I tried. I remember feeling love. But then again, I was so broken, I’m not sure I was capable of accepting love if it hit me square in the face. And because of that, I ended up hurting people I care about. I’ve had to work hard at forgiving myself for that. Thank goodness for a living amends; it’s a gift I can give to myself and others, by never going back to where I was. What more can one do when words are never enough? Now I can proudly say that I have worked hard to overcome my past traumas, so that I don’t repeat the same patterns and poor behaviors I did in the past. Of course, I am still only human, so I make mistakes from time to time, but my past no longer drives my behaviors. I pick myself up and keep working hard to do the next right thing. When I think back to my childhood sexual abuse, being strangled, and even the family disease of alcoholism, I don’t remember the horrible things that happened. Instead, I see hope for change. I see hope for recovery. I see my Higher Power hard at work in every moment and every hardship. This is the priceless gift of recovery. Every… single… day… I fight for my recovery. I protect it as if it is the most precious thing to ever exist. Because without my recovery, I wouldn’t be here today, and I wouldn’t be the person I have come to know and love. I still have a long way to go, but at least I wake up everyday and put in the hard work.
These difficult times I’m going through now are far from over. But I can say with confidence, that I am supported, loved and I will make it through stronger than when it all started. My recovery has given me strength beyond measure. As I mentioned, over the last few months I have experienced many emotions that I did not have the tools to manage before. Now I embrace each feeling and work through it with grace. At times I find it quite challenging. It really just depends on what comes up for me. But this part of my journey was meant to happen just as it has; as if I was meant to get thrown into the trenches, so I could fast track my growth and be the leader of change, I know that I am meant to be. Stay tuned followers, the best has yet to come.
This particular title is important to me because it leads to one of the most supportive communities of recovery I ever imagined. Reaching out to other people is a hard task, but once we break our silence and really allow ourselves to be vulnerable about the things we are going through, we open ourselves up to being supported in ways that help us thrive in our journey’s. My life has been complete and utter chaos these last few months and I’ll tell ya, it hasn’t been easy to get myself out of bed everyday and push forward, but it is a whole heck of a lot easier with the supportive community that I have in my life. When I said previously that I isolate for days at a time, I didn’t mean that I isolate away from everyone. I meant that I isolate away from things and people that don’t serve me. Everyday I am in communication with my supportive community of recovery, that help uplift me by not offering advice, sharing tools and wisdom, listening to me cry through what I’m going through, and so much more. It’s important for me to make sure that during those harder moments, I am only sharing with individuals that I know are healthy and able to create a safe space for me to do so. And then days later when a loved one or friend contact me, or when I am ready to reach out, I am able to share with pure vulnerability and with healthy boundaries, what I had been going through during that time, which helps me grow my program. Being vulnerable is not something that the majority of people are comfortable with. Thankfully for myself, I have a large community of individuals who are willing to get in the mud with me, and really help me through when it is needed. By my doing so, I get to share that with others who are not quite ready for it, to show them it’s okay to open ourselves up to others and to really trust. I get to help others figure out how to navigate this uncomfortable journey of being our authentic selves and building deep connection with others… tears and all. It’s pretty incredible.
Being surrounded by people in recovery this last weekend has been quite the experience and really eye-opening to just how difficult that is for so many people. I have found that through my recovery, the more I connect with like-minded people who are also willing to get in the mud with others, I have more compassion for those who are observing from the side lines, wondering how the heck they are supposed to do that too. It’s pretty scary stuff. It’s icky and uncomfortable. But I must say, once you have even just one or two solid support people in your life who are healthy because they take care of themselves, use their tools, take their own inventory, are willing to admit their shortcomings, are emotionally mature, know they are not perfect, admit when they are wrong, really open themselves up to others, know what they do & don’t have control over, are willing to make amends, constantly working to improve their relationship with their Higher Power, and who respect you & your boundaries, you will find a whole new way of life. Sounds almost like a fairytale doesn’t it? It’s not. I have this in my own life… by the handfuls.
Being vulnerable is the only way to allow your heart to feel true pleasure.
– Bob Marley
As I started to grow through what I went through, I managed to find myself a healthy person who did all of those things, that helped me build trust and gave me the time I needed to open myself up to them, by offering me patience and understanding. As I grew, so did my own boundaries. In time, I met another healthy person, and another. Until I looked around and I was surrounded by healthy people. Even the people who weren’t quite there, were following my lead and getting healthier in their own ways. It’s been pretty incredible to be a part of. What we can do for ourselves and others by turning it over to our Higher Power and really trusting the process, is beyond what we could imagine. I know it’s not an easy thing to do. I remember all of the fights with my Higher Power and the resistance I felt in putting in trust. There were lots of tears and angry words. It really came back to knowing that I needed something different. What I was doing wasn’t working. Now I am able to pray and meditate, allowing me the space and clear mind, to make healthy decisions and to build self-awareness. I’m not saying that my way is the only way to build a supportive community, but I do have some knowledge in how to get there. What works for me, won’t necessarily work for other people. But in the end, allowing ourselves to connect with healthy people, is an extremely important part of the process. Learn to reason things out with another person. We even get to learn through the process, how to keep ourselves safe and protect us from the people in our lives that might not be right where we need them as a support person. I know for myself, I have lots of friends and family members I want to keep around but may not be the person that can help me through the heavy hardships I am going through, because they have never been there. It doesn’t mean I end those relationships. It means I learn to set boundaries for myself. And if that means I have to isolate myself away from them while I figure out how to set appropriate boundaries for me, then that’s what I have to do. I always come out of it with great amounts of gratitude when it doesn’t take long for me to figure it out, so that I can keep the people I care about active in my life. It hurts when there are folks that I am still figuring out that safety for myself with and I am not yet able to set the needed boundaries to open myself up to them. Instead I just have to continue working through it with the healthy people in my life, and hope that when the time comes, they will understand and welcome me with open arms knowing that I took the necessary time to take care of myself and create safety as I needed it. Something we are all deserving of.
Just a little tip on where to start… find someone who has qualities and characteristics that you find attractive and you catch yourself saying “I want that” or asking “how do they do it?”, then reach out by striking up a conversation. Get to know them by asking questions and allow yourself to be vulnerable. Not to say that relationship will last forever, but you might learn something that helps you start to navigate how to move forward. It’s got to start somewhere. Start within you and allow yourself to create a deep connection with others. Don’t be afraid to get hurt. Use it as an opportunity to grow and learn a lesson that you can take with you to the next part of your journey.
This last few weeks have been a little bit of a set back with my blog postings. At first I was just trying to keep my focus on the project, then last week I had to work through a complex loss that required me to take a few extra days of self-care. Now I am feeling much better and getting back into my routine, without the worry of needing to focus on extra healing. It’s hard to really know where to start to share the grief that surfaced for me because I am still working on processing it all but what I can say, is that I have a lot of gratitude for my recovery and for my support. I truly know that I am not alone. You see, I am very open about my recovery from the affects of alcoholism in my life, my childhood sexual abuse, living with chronic pain, domestic violence and trauma in the workplace. There is more, but those are the main things that have driven some of my poor coping in my past and what I’ve had to work through in order to be where I am today. Those are the traumas that had me living in fear and anxiety, dissociating from reality, being angry and irritable. I am in a much better place, as I’ve worked through these things and they no longer carry any negative weigh in my life. It’s pretty amazing what recovery can do. Of course there are still things to work through as they come up, but I show up every day to put in the work. This is a lifelong recovery after-all. And though my recovery may look different from yours, it is recovery none the less.
It’s taken years of practice of my tools (plus lots of tears & frustration), to work through the trauma that I am about to share with all of you. I want to start off by expressing how grateful I am for my family. Though we have healing to do, just as every family does, I am blessed to have my parents and my siblings. My biological mom and my dad who adopted me before birth, raised me with my 3 half siblings. We each have different family backgrounds and life experiences, but we love each other still the same and I wouldn’t change it for anything. I am blessed that my parents raised me the best they knew how and I carry only love in my heart for them. And as much as they tried to protect me from harm, there are some things out of our control. Kudos to them for doing a great job.
What came up for me after this recent complex loss, was how far I have come in my recovery from the childhood sexual abuse. You see, my biological father’s family did not play much of a role in my life, and the role they did play, was broken and messed up so it was pretty short lived. For years I was sexually abused by a biological family member. It started with grooming and ended with full on molestation and rape. By the time it came out, years of damage had already been done, and that half of my biological family was in complete denial. In time, I lost my relationship with every one of my immediate biological family members. No more family reunions or summer visits. I grieved those losses for a lot of years. Reality was, it was never going to work if everyone wanted to deny that it happened. Because the truth is, it happened and I was living the nightmare of the effects it had. Not talking about it and pretending it didn’t exist, caused me to shame and blame myself because I just didn’t understand. When I think back, I am shocked that an entire family could live that far in denial. Then again, denial is a dysfunctional attempt to pretend a painful reality doesn’t exist. Over the years, I have shamed and blamed myself so much, that I honestly lived in this negative, awful survival cloud for so long, that I had created this unpleasant reality for myself. I believed I was unlovable, unworthy and that somehow I was to blame for being exiled from that half of my family. When the reality is, no one in that family had the tools or skills to handle the conflict or address the issue, nor did they want to admit something so horrible could happen by a role model in that family. No one wanted to admit that something like that could really take place. Instead it was brushed aside as if it never happened, and I was the one who suffered.
“Shame cannot survive being spoken. It cannot tolerate having words wrapped around it. What it craves is secrecy, silence and judgment. If you stay quiet, you stay in a lot of self-judgment.
– Brene Brown
For all that time I went unhealed, I lost my relationship with my Higher Power. I had just accepted things the way they were, but I was angry and confused. So I just lived in anger for many years. I had no idea that there was an opportunity for healing and growth, by finding support and new tools. Over the years I had met a few people here and there that had gone through similar, but never did anyone actually talk about it. It was one of those things of “That happened to me too.” and nothing more. I never had an example from someone who had healed through it. I had no idea that leaving those wounds untreated and un-talked about, was causing me to live with this underlying notion that I was somehow unworthy and undeserving. Instead the women I knew who had it happen to them too, were experiencing the same negative thinking so it became normal. I knew over the years that things didn’t feel right and that what had happened to me was wrong, but that didn’t change my internal dialogue. I was still hard on myself and unable to work through it. Finally one day I woke up, and I needed something different. I didn’t know how, but I woke up everyday to figure it out. I put myself through therapy, support groups, and I built a solid foundation of natural supports. I went through trainings and I researched everything I could in order to understand why I was the way I was. There were lots of stumbles along the way, but I know that my journey happened just the way it was meant to.
Though it may have taken me 24 years to recover fully (forgiveness and all), I am a much stronger person now. I now have the strength to stand up and speak my truth. I now have the strength to share my experience, strength and hope. I now have the strength to stand for change. My experience will help many people for years to come, and though the brokenness of that biological family is extreme, I am grateful that as an individual, I have healed. Now through my recovery, I get to help others in ways that I once needed.
