I’m a social worker. Crisis and trauma are kind of my bread and butter. When I worked for a homeless shelter, calling 911 was what we did, between intoxication, seizures, tuberculosis, and a variety of other health concerns.
There’s a difference between calling 911 when you’re at work, and calling 911 because your husband is downstairs, disoriented, after having collapsed while exercising. Suddenly you cannot remember you own name, your address, or why you are calling.
Every day, I work with young children to become desensitized to reminders in their lives of past trauma. To help them be able to react in a reasonable manner to their every day environment. To help them become less hyper-vigilant, less reactive to loud sounds, and triggers.Triggers which could be anything from the sound of a male voice, to the color of a shirt or nightgown.
There’s a difference between teaching others how to adapt and cope with their environment, and recognizing that you yourself have a physical reaction to the sound of ambulance sirens ever since you heard them turning into your driveway.
I am not immune. I may have a lot of training and intellectual understanding about trauma, but it doesn’t stop the feelings. It doesn’t stop the reminders. It doesn’t change the fact that over a year later, I still stare at this spot above our toilet because the night my husband went to the emergency room for 7 hours, I left the candle burning in the bathroom and it left this mark on my wall.
It doesn’t stop me from looking at my phone every hour, expecting a text message from Casey letting me know he’s okay (a rule that I put in place when I had to go back to work while he was home recovering from the stroke). It doesn’t stop me from tearing up when I notice that Casey’s speech is slurring, or that he has dropped what he was holding because he can’t control his hand, or that when he runs he favors his right leg.
I am not immune to the reminders. I am not stronger than than what happened to us. And although I don’t think about it all the time, it is always with us. The stinging reminder of mortality, the questions from well meaning friends, the burn on my wall.
Soon it will be wiped away with a fresh coat of paint. I suspect I will continue to stare at that spot on the wall.
A reminder of a night my 32 year old husband had a stroke. The night that changed everything.
<3 you...so glad that hes ok...my mom had a stroke a few years ago and its terrifying.
Love you guys. This is beautiful chica. I love the sentiment behind it, but I hate the trauma of learning it.
Hugs
Gives me goosebumps….and scares the life out of me.
I turned the ringer off on my phone because after that one life changing phone call in the small hours of the night, I can not bear to hear it ring when the house is dark….even if its the wrong number.
Very much identify with your post.
This is so wise and beautiful. So often we rush to "get over" major events in our lives instead of realizing that those events and the emotions behind us will be with us always. It's so much saner to learn to live with those feelings than to try to wrap up them up neatly in that box we call "closure."
How scary!
It's always so different when it's personal, isn't it?
Hubby had emergency surgery when we'd been married less than a year. I was 22 and he was 23. He had a tumor removed from his spine. Before that visit to the ER, we had no idea anything was wrong with him. He still has a scar down his spine. Sometimes when I get a glimpse of that scar, it takes me back to the terrifing moment when the doctor first uttered the word "cancer". I get what you're saying. Sometimes those little phyiscal things leave us remembering the trauma all too well.
You aren't immune but you are strong. You are as strong as the children you work with (they are warriors!) and you have the same ability they do – to adapt and live with love.
Wow. Heavy. I can't imagine what that was like, but it's understandably had a lasting effect.
Jenn, you and Casey have been thru a lot for such a young couple, huh? I'm so sorry sweetie, hugs and prayers for you both.
I cannot begin to imagine the scare you two must have gotten, and the fear you must have gone through.
Still, I can relate in a way. My dad passed away almost 6 years ago after suffering his fourth heartattack. To this day I remember how my mom called me at work to tell me. And how the last time I spoke to him was the day before, my birthday. So my reminder isn't a black spot on the wall but a day.
You're both so strong. Hugs and warm thoughts to you both!
I'm here, and don't always know what to say. I'm just not a good 'commenter'. I can't wait for your cross country trip and your move. I believe a change of scenery is going do wonders for both of you.
I just had chills reading through this whole post. I can't even imagine the fright and the worry. So happy you will be able to spend some time together on your road trip and feel the love and hopefully let a bit of the worry go.
This is a poignant, beautiful post. So glad he’s overall, okay.
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So glad to hear that he’s alright. What a scary memory. I don’t blame you for feeling the way you do. Such a great idea to have him check in with you frequently! Stopping in from SITS today, glad to meet you 🙂
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I can’t even imagine how scary that would be. My worst fear is that something like that will happen and being a single parent, my kids will not know what to do….Glad that he is okay and you are okay and you are both okay.
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I admire your willingness to admit that you aren’t larger than the thing that has confronted you.
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Yikes – that sounds frightening! I guess no one really knows how they’ll react until they are in that situation themselves. I hope you both continue to get stronger every day!
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