Physically, this has definitely been a better week for me. I'm feeling stronger than I have in a long time. One thing that I did this week was start an exercise program. It's amazing what exercise does for the mental and emotional health, not just the physical. Because of the exercise, my body continues to heal at a rate that surprises even me. I am consistently amazed by the human body's ability to heal and respond to all the craziness that we put it through.
Writing about this whole experience has also helped build my strength. I can't express enough how good it feels to get the story out there. I have always wanted to be a writer, but I was so critical of myself and, I admit, uninspired, that I haven't seriously put pen to paper since graduate school. I realize now that I just needed something to inspire me and quiet my inner critics enough to start the ball rolling. I love the English language and have always felt that it had the power to heal. Hopefully this is the start of not only my writing for therapy, but a chance to use language to help other people with the chaos in their lives.
One thing that I have heard a lot of in various circles is that, "If you speak something aloud, you give it power and permission to affect you." I realize that I do not agree with that statement at all. By verbalizing something or writing it down, you place it outside of you ,and that is where you can see it clearly and hopefully deal with it. Last week, I wrote about all the impossible questions that I have been asking myself since my brother died and more recently when my son was stillborn. I realize now that I was literally drowning in those questions and that they were threatening to steal my joy. The moment I completed that post, I felt the grip loosen a little. I breathed a little easier. Somehow, placing those questions outside of me, and giving myself permission to leave them unanswered, reduced the amount of power that they had over me.
Recently, I have been thinking a lot about the car accident that I was in in September 2001. The accident happened on a gorgeous day when I was doing everything right: not speeding, wearing my seat belt, and paying attention to the road and driving conditions. It was a nice day and there were no factors that made driving difficult. On that day, a motorcyclist crashed into my car and I crashed into the side of a mountain while trying to avoid him. The motorcyclist died literally at my feet and my body was severely crunched. The accident, which happened just three years after my brother's fatal accident, has had a profound affect on me.
After my brother died, I made a promise to myself that I would never cause my parents to feel an ounce of pain on my behalf. I would never injure myself, never get sick, never get so much as a speeding ticket, or do anything else that would cause them to worry about me. My mom and dad went through so much pain when we lost my brother and I couldn't stand the thought that they would ever experience pain again. Even though the accident was not my fault, I felt so bad that my parents would find out about it and be upset. Following the accident, I had to accept that my efforts to be perfect were futile and that being the perfect daughter was not enough to protect me from the randomness of the world. The accident shook me to my very core and had a profound affect on my family.
Following my car accident, I lived in fear. I had always been an anxious and somewhat vigilant person, but I became someone who was truly ruled by fear. I had terrible nightmares and worried about the affect of the accident on my family. I was worried about my physical health and had concerns that my body would never be the same. I was afraid that the accident had somehow crushed my spirit and that I would never recover. I said to myself, "I survived the death of my brother and several other losses, only to be brought down by this? Is this what will actually do me in?" I had heard that people eventually get to their breaking point and I wondered if I had finally reached mine. My biggest fear was that the accident had somehow taken away the parts of myself that I liked; my optimism, my compassion, and my faith in a loving and compassionate God. I worried about loving people again because people seemed to be so temporary and vulnerable to being taken in an instant.
Recovering from my car accident was not easy but I did it. Over time I regained a lot of the things that I had lost. My body healed, my optimism was renewed, and I moved forward with strength and determination. I'm not really sure why the memories of my car accident have come back to me recently but I've learned to experience feelings without arguing with them. I realize that I have overcome a lot of things from that day, but the fears have stayed with me. Losing my son has brought those fears back into focus and I feel ready to deal with them again.
The ironic thing is that I was anxious during my pregnancy with Keller, but I was never afraid. I didn't fear the pain of labor and delivery, nor was I afraid of becoming a parent. I wanted Keller so much and fear was not something that I wrestled with at all. Looking back I wonder if part of my lack of fear was the fact that I had already survived my worst nightmares and lived to tell about them. What could I possibly be afraid of when I had already overcome so much in my life? In some ways, I had that attitude that I had somehow already reached my quota of chaos and that maybe I was exempt from loss and traumas at least for a little while.
Apparently, searching for a "chaos quota" is as futile as the quest for the "easy button." None of us are exempt from trauma, nor do we achieve a "chaos free status" once we have experienced enough pain in our lives. Over the past weekend, my family suffered another devastating loss with the death of my cousin, Austin. On the heels of my son's stillbirth and four days before the anniversary of his own brother's untimely death, Austin left us suddenly and without warning. As much as I am tempted to ask more "why me?" questions, I know that questions will get me nowhere. It's time for this broken family to set the questions aside, band together, and take steps to heal from our collective tragic experiences.
To be perfectly honest, I am reeling from everything that has happened to my family in recent months and years. I don't know why we have experienced these traumas and I can't fathom any reason or explanation to have tragedy of this magnitude. I am trying to be strong but my strength is definitely being tested right now. What I do know for sure is that I want to live my life without allowing fear to dominate my existence. Even under these circumstances, I know that I am no longer willing to allow fear to steal my joy and affect my relationships. I want to love people without constantly worrying that they will be taken from me.
As hard as it is to say right now, I know that I will move forward and love people for as long as I am lucky enough to know them. And when my loved ones do go to Heaven, I want them to know that I don't regret loving them even though losing them was so hard. I want my son, my brother, and all of the people I have lost to know that overcoming my fears and giving them my love was a choice. And I wouldn't change my decision, even if choosing not to love them would have made losing them easier. The future holds plenty more opportunities for me to know and love people and my sincere hope is that I can keep my fears in check and cherish every precious moment with them, even if those moments are brief.
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