I haven't sat in my office alone in two weeks. The accident (see post below) has locked my ability to process much of anything, let alone pour myself onto the page. Today I'm pouring because if I don't, I'm not sure how I'll get through the day. May has always been one of my favorite period of time, but this May was brutal on varying levels of shittiness. It's safe to say that it was the most trying month of my husband and my life together. May put us through a blender of emotions, realities, coping mechanisms and parenting. May offered our family a "new normal" of sorts and June is hopefully going to allow us to adjust to this new normal. We need June to allow us that opportunity.
Now that time has passed, I can tell you that our day care was shut down overnight at the beginning of May. We found ourselves and our kids thrown into the midst of investigations about what happens at a daycare when the doors close. Not just any daycare. A second home for our kids - one we all loved and trusted. Tim and I walked through 4 weeks of simply going through the motions just to get through the day. I won't go into the details due to privacy and legal issues, but Tim and I went through lessons in parenting and coping no parent should ever have to go through. And yet so many do. That storm was beginning to pass and we were learning how to walk through the mess when Rylan was hit by the car. The mess came right back even stronger and the trauma seemed to slap us in the face again.
When you have kids, you know it won't be easy. You know there will be struggles. But there are certain things you assume happen to OTHER people. You're untouchable with the really gross shit. Here's the thing. You're not. I'm not. I'm a fantastic mom in the grand scheme, but I can't protect my kids in that grand scheme. There are inevitable holes in the web of protection we weave around our family and you can't predict what can seep through those holes. Most of the time those holes feel really insignificant. Most of the time.
For 4 weeks, I didn't talk to God. I was pissed and numb and confused about the state of the world. Evil seemed omnipresent and peace and tranquility were floating away. I couldn't find God in the ball of wax that was enveloping our every day. We felt stuck and heavy. I had one constant headache because as much as Tim and I tried talking through our experiences, we couldn't find a resting point or a solution or any sort of sense. We started seeing a counselor who listens to where we're at as parents and as a couple. Thats been helpful.
The accident caused me to pause in my anger and it put me in a place of humility and grace. I needed that. My family needed that. But what I feel now is the world coming at me at 1,000 miles per hour. I feel chaotic and scared and overwhelmed about all the possibility for trauma surrounding me. Driving scares me because how easily could that have been me hitting a child? I dropped my kids off at a Christian summer camp this morning and cried the entire way home. I'm terrified to leave them, but I know I can't hover over them. I can't keep my eyes on their bodies and their hearts 24/7. No parent can. But we expect that we should be able to right? It's our job. We've learned that our job can only go so far and we have to let go of control and guilt when things go array. We're not God.
This morning I read a devotional that caused me to write the following:
"Security is in God alone. Not in what I can do to protect my family. There is no security in the boundaries we set around our lives. God is our only security. Yesterday's mold means nothing for today. Don't hold on to "normal." There's only so far down I can fall when God's holding my right hand. Look to him for help and he'll keep me steady. The free fall will end if I remember who's holding my hand. God will take us all to glory some day, so remember that the evil is temporary."
True that. Every day will bring a new normal in some sense. I need to be okay with that and trust that my littles are safe with him on earth or in heaven. Parenting is no joke. It's heavy - at least it feels that way today. I trust the heaviness will fade through time. My kids are safe and happy and healthy. That should be enough and most minutes it is. But trauma has a way of haunting you, even when things appear good. I'll be working my way through that reality. It's not so easy to box it all when you're back in every day chaos. As much as I want to run away to live on a farm with my family, home school the kids and buy horses, that's not happening. I have to learn how to stand in front of my house without flinching and feeling my stomach hit the pavement. I have to re-learn how to trust people and assume the best. I have to learn how to genuinely smile with my kids and not feel like I'm always putting on a brave Mama face. I think I'll get there, but I'm not there yet. New normals sure do suck. Try to remember that as you face people day to day. We're all just adjusting to new normals, whatever our story may be.
Now that time has passed, I can tell you that our day care was shut down overnight at the beginning of May. We found ourselves and our kids thrown into the midst of investigations about what happens at a daycare when the doors close. Not just any daycare. A second home for our kids - one we all loved and trusted. Tim and I walked through 4 weeks of simply going through the motions just to get through the day. I won't go into the details due to privacy and legal issues, but Tim and I went through lessons in parenting and coping no parent should ever have to go through. And yet so many do. That storm was beginning to pass and we were learning how to walk through the mess when Rylan was hit by the car. The mess came right back even stronger and the trauma seemed to slap us in the face again.
When you have kids, you know it won't be easy. You know there will be struggles. But there are certain things you assume happen to OTHER people. You're untouchable with the really gross shit. Here's the thing. You're not. I'm not. I'm a fantastic mom in the grand scheme, but I can't protect my kids in that grand scheme. There are inevitable holes in the web of protection we weave around our family and you can't predict what can seep through those holes. Most of the time those holes feel really insignificant. Most of the time.
For 4 weeks, I didn't talk to God. I was pissed and numb and confused about the state of the world. Evil seemed omnipresent and peace and tranquility were floating away. I couldn't find God in the ball of wax that was enveloping our every day. We felt stuck and heavy. I had one constant headache because as much as Tim and I tried talking through our experiences, we couldn't find a resting point or a solution or any sort of sense. We started seeing a counselor who listens to where we're at as parents and as a couple. Thats been helpful.
The accident caused me to pause in my anger and it put me in a place of humility and grace. I needed that. My family needed that. But what I feel now is the world coming at me at 1,000 miles per hour. I feel chaotic and scared and overwhelmed about all the possibility for trauma surrounding me. Driving scares me because how easily could that have been me hitting a child? I dropped my kids off at a Christian summer camp this morning and cried the entire way home. I'm terrified to leave them, but I know I can't hover over them. I can't keep my eyes on their bodies and their hearts 24/7. No parent can. But we expect that we should be able to right? It's our job. We've learned that our job can only go so far and we have to let go of control and guilt when things go array. We're not God.
This morning I read a devotional that caused me to write the following:
"Security is in God alone. Not in what I can do to protect my family. There is no security in the boundaries we set around our lives. God is our only security. Yesterday's mold means nothing for today. Don't hold on to "normal." There's only so far down I can fall when God's holding my right hand. Look to him for help and he'll keep me steady. The free fall will end if I remember who's holding my hand. God will take us all to glory some day, so remember that the evil is temporary."
True that. Every day will bring a new normal in some sense. I need to be okay with that and trust that my littles are safe with him on earth or in heaven. Parenting is no joke. It's heavy - at least it feels that way today. I trust the heaviness will fade through time. My kids are safe and happy and healthy. That should be enough and most minutes it is. But trauma has a way of haunting you, even when things appear good. I'll be working my way through that reality. It's not so easy to box it all when you're back in every day chaos. As much as I want to run away to live on a farm with my family, home school the kids and buy horses, that's not happening. I have to learn how to stand in front of my house without flinching and feeling my stomach hit the pavement. I have to re-learn how to trust people and assume the best. I have to learn how to genuinely smile with my kids and not feel like I'm always putting on a brave Mama face. I think I'll get there, but I'm not there yet. New normals sure do suck. Try to remember that as you face people day to day. We're all just adjusting to new normals, whatever our story may be.
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