It has been a very dark eight weeks, a slippery slope down the rabbit hole where my mind has been getting darker by the day.
Tomorrow will be eight weeks since my surgery. Any doubts that the things that I do to keep my brain balanced were working, are gone. The first week or so did not matter as much, I was really out of it and sore, and I was focusing on getting comfortable. Pain is a great distraction.
I had so much time, something I usually do not have. I have had to learn to relax more since Jesse and Bella died, trying to counteract the flight or fight constantly going on in my body. This was different, if I stood too long, overdid it, or even picked up something the wrong way, it could be bad. I had a goal of returning to work after 2 1/2 weeks, and I needed to follow the doctor’s orders. I was tired, so resting was not terrible and my body yelled quite loudly when I did not. Ironically, those first two weeks, I slept the best I have in years and years. Do I really need major surgery to sleep, sigh. Anyways, time. I read, watched a bit of Netflix, and worked on a 2000 piece jigsaw puzzle. As I got a bit stronger and could stand a bit longer, I started baking again. But the major thing that I do to make my brain balanced was missing. Exercise. And I was unable to start until six weeks post surgery.
I worked really hard before the surgery to be as strong as I could, which I know helped with recovery. But damn, you lose muscle fast. I think this is a major design flaw in the human body if you ask me. Over those six weeks, I observed my mind. Again, that first week or so, not too bad. After that, I felt like I was watching my mind slip further and further down the rabbit hole, getting more and more depressed each day.
Luckily? I guess you could say that, I was able to be completely forthcoming with my therapist. I made a deal after they died, no hiding shit. Jesse hid it. He was a master at it, a lifetime of practice. I promised my family and friends I would not lie about how bad it was. Those first years were the darkest of my life. Now, the darkness is still there, but there is light to balance it. The past eight weeks though was reminiscent of those first couple of years.
Oli was going through a hard time as well, and I was not doing fabulous in the parenting department, which brought up a mountain of guilt that I constantly carry in regards to him. I was trying desparately to figure out things that gave me any joy, sense of purpose, or hope. What is going on in the world and the goverment did not help matters either.
Again, luckily I have the training I do, and the ability to watch myself objectively, and remind myself that this was temporary, it made sense why I was feeling what I was, all that. I delved into Netflix at night with F, read a ton, and chipped away at that puzzle. At four weeks, I started walking a bit. At six weeks, I started to exercise again. That first week, meh. Again, muscle loss. And at that point, I was far down the rabbit hole, so did not want to. But I did. This past week, less meh, and I can actually feel a spark of hope again in my mind. I can feel the endorphins starting to shine a light in that hole that I am in, showing me a path up the rungs.
During this time, I have held on to the things that I know help, the life-rafts that keep one afloat in the midst of a storm. I think when one deals with complex grief and trauma recovery (which lasts forever), you need to practice holding on. Much like reaching for the toothpaste to brush your teeth, you need to grab onto the things that help you stay. You need to practice those things daily, especially when your brain is balanced so it is a healthy habit. I had to learn fast after they died. Over the years, I have adapted my life-rafts, but most have held steady. I am always grateful for the people who I am able to be my authentic self with. I know it is not easy to hold that space when the darkness is ever so present. I am thankful for F. Damn he puts up with a lot between Oli and I.
I know this will ebb and flow for the rest of my life. That is the reality, and I think when one has more time after the fact, something that you have to come to as much peace as you can with. My hope, is that it won’t get this dark again. It may, but a girl can hope, right?
