Day 142: Who am I? I just shoved, punched, scratched, and bit him. Sure he wouldn't leave me alone and was even trying to hold me. Sure he was the one who made me mad and hurt my feelings. Sure he is the one who wasn't listening to my words but...who am I?
I also punched the cupboard and messed up my hand, threatened to call the police so that they would take me before I hurt someone and threw a huge baby toy at him. Who am I?
Who am I? Who is this monster inside of me? Who is this mess sitting on the floor of the kitchen, icing my wrist and sobbing while he searches for more answers? Who am I?
I'm lost and confused. I feel hurt and abandoned. Not only by him but by myself. I'm emotionally unstable, at best, and it's not good enough.
I want out. I was out of this dark place. This dark place of depression. Of hurt and anger and loneliness and betrayal and sadness. Oh, I'm so sad.
I want to live again. I want the nightmares to stop. I want the freedom to have enough control over myself to be able to take minor blows. We were arguing about something unrelated. He totally was...I don't know...avoiding his mistake. Making light of it. Not understanding the severity. I don't know. I don't know what to made him act the way that he did but it should not have resulted in this. We should have -- I should have -- been able to talk it through without losing control.
What's gonna happen? How will I even find myself again?
Maybe I won't. Maybe this is me. Oh Lord, please tell me that's not true. Please tell me that You'll heal me from this.
When will I be free again? I'm trying so hard and yet I get smacked upside the head with this. Why?
Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?
It's hurts. It hurts more than I can put into words.
Some days it'd be easier if I were supposed to hurt...
Day 143: Things calmed down kinda early last night but then we didn't really deal with them. Why? I don't know. It's kinda been the theme lately and it finally bubbled over. After a full day we were laying in bed and I started telling him that things lately are not going as well as they seem. We don't really discuss things anymore. Simple answers are taken at face value and not looked into any deeper. No tears means progress.
It's not the case though. I feel like lately I have put a brave face on, pushed my feelings down and put my nose to the grindstone. Why? Because I have to.
I can only be broken and vulnerable and open to heal when I know that he is here to catch me as I fall and carry me when I can't walk. Something's been missing though.
We talked about it. It's supposed to get better. We'll see. I hope so.
Day 144: A year ago today I took our little girl to the doctor after realizing that home treating her was not getting rid of what I thought was an irritated lymph node. Several tests, doctors and hours later they called me and asked me to come back to the office so that we could talk.
A piece of my heart fell into God's lap right then.
Once arriving at the office, the Doctor sat us down and told us that they thought that it could be cancer and that she needed a chest xray.
The rest of my heart fell into God's lap.
I'm sure I only held it together because my little man and my little girl were right there watching me but my husband and I could barely speak to each other knowing that behind our words there were many, many, many tears. Tears of fear. I've never known fear like that. Within minutes we were in our own private waiting room. I started praying as we waited. Praying for a miracle. Praying for grace. Praying that my little girl was going to be ok.
I was a few months pregnant so I could not even be in the room to hold her hand and comfort her while they xrayed her. My husband was though. He brought her back to me and I just held her as I felt another tear escape and slide down my cheek. Then we waited. And waited. And waited. I'm not sure exactly how long it was but time has never gone by so slowly. The world has never stopped the way that it did while we waited. Finally we were called back.
One by one the doctors all came in to meet us and talk to us. All I could think was that they all knew something that we didn't and that it was bad. The Senior Doctor then came in. I don't remember much of her words before or after she told us that her xray looked perfect. She said it so nonchalantly that we almost missed it. I do remember pulling my little girl closer to me and her snuggling in to nurse as the weight of the world fell off of my shoulders.
I'll never forget that day. Never forget how God spared us, once again. Never forget the overwhelming (what an understatement) sense of relief that I had in that moment.
Many more days and tests later we found out that her lymph node wasn't fighting an infection like we would have all like to assume but that it was actually infected.
221 days. Praising God -- The Great Physician -- for a perfectly healthy little girl today!
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