I can count on one hand how many days since Jesse and Bella died in 2014 that I have had motivation and energy for an entire day. It actually astounds me that I have gotten as much done as I have.

After they died, my body was in a constant fight or flight state, never wanting to rest completely, trying to control all aspects of my life as it was out of control.  I had experienced a mind bending tragedy, coming home to find that Jesse had shot and killed Bella, then himself.  The imprint of that night, all of it, stays with me to this day with a sharpened clarity that has dulled most other memories.  The space that it takes up in my brain is astonishing.  Not only does my brain deal with the movie reels, it processes life with a new lens, wondering when the next tragedy will occur. It is constantly taking in its surroundings, looking for danger, looking for the next thing that will send my anxiety through the roof or into a panic attack that makes me want to curl into a fetal position.  It ebbs and flows, sometime with reason, most times not. My heart goes into palpatations, feeling like it is going to pound right out of my chest.  I often put my husbands hand there to make sure I am not crazy when happens. This is all while I am trying to live and function in the world.

It is exhausting.  I have learned to have some patience.  Note the some in that sentence.  It has never been one of my strong qualities.  This experience has been humbling on so many levels, that one included. My brain and body just won’t work the way I want/need them to.  One of the things I often “joke” with people is by saying, yeah, sorry, I am sure we discussed that/I said I would/that happened/etc.  I tell them, listen, I used to be smart, but, this tragedy has robbed me of that too. My family laughs at my never ending lists, but without them, I would forget stuff.  Thank god for Google calendar and reminders.

My brain and body are literally different, changed since May 8, 2014. The constant state of high alert, the PTSD  and anxiety that can happen anytime, anyplace, sending my body into varying degrees of flight or fight mode, unleashing a hormonal response that makes my heart beat fast, my muscles tense, my stomach in knots, dizzy, and have shortness of breath. There are varying degrees of this, but they all take energy and time to recover, leaving me feeling like I ran a marathon. My brain, not only processing all of that, but holding Jesse’s grief, tangible, acknowledging the memories, the experiences, the grief that is never ending. Bella. Who is in a box, lid on tight lest I literally lose my mind with her grief. And. And my daily life. The to do lists of our household, my business, my patients, etc.

Which leads me to my point. I keep it together, until I don’t. It’s funny not funny.  It is always the little things that send me over the edge of overwhelming. I wish I could draw, because the vision I have is walking on a tightrope, holding all the things above in my hands, and a feather comes along making me and everything I am holding topple over. You must think me a mess dear reader?  I am not. Really. Well, kinda. I function.  That is the amazing thing about us humans. We have this thing called neuroplasticity.  Even after a horrific trauma, we immediately start doing protective things within our brains to survive. When we learn mindfulness and things like cognitive behavior therapy, we work with our brains to decrease the flashbacks and anxiety. It is amazing when you think about it. That being said, all this takes energy.  It is a rare moment when my body actually relaxes and a rare day when I have a lot of energy. I go into a day with ideas of what I want/need to get done, knowing full well that it may or may not happen.  I have to be in bed for 8-10 hours, I don’t sleep that long, but need to at least be resting. I am not a person who stays up working late, my brain/body just won’t. I have literally sat at my computer willing myself to get things done, and cannot focus. It is frustrating to say the least. My book that is swirling in my head would be done otherwise. I prioritize. And re-prioritize. And work on the never ending concept of self-compassion.

So, with that, I leave you.  I leave you with the awareness that if you have someone in your life who has experienced trauma, they aren’t a space cadet when they forget they had a conversation with you.  Or that they struggle to find a simple word. Or that they are too tired to go out. Have patience, have compassion, they are working harder than you know to function, to live, to feel somewhat “normal,” whatever that is.

I was going to try and draw a line for a thought, but it would squiggle all over the place