I Am Still Here

I have not been able to write in many months. There are a few reasons. My daughter needed my undivided attention. Writing has been a healing thing for me but it also takes a lot out of me. I couldn’t let anything take away from helping her get through what she needed to deal with in her little heart. I was also given a few diagnosis’ that I needed to come to terms with in my own head. I have always been fully transparent with my feelings in this blog but I needed time to process this before I shared it.

Back in June I started waking up from nightmares. The dreams were so vivid that it felt like I had just lived in my dream and I couldn’t go back to sleep from it. It was dreams of events that happened when Pharon was in the hospital. There were some things that happened that scarred me. They changed me. One of the reoccurring dreams is of the day Pharon tried to take his intubation tube out. I was talking to my mother in law and I had just mentioned that I wish the nurses would tie his hands down because if he woke up it would be natural instinct for him to pull at the tube in this throat. The nursing staff insisted that since he hadn’t moved in weeks there was nothing to worry about and that we already knew he had the deficit on his right side.  Within seconds his left hand flew up and I caught it just in time. But he was still so strong. He hadn’t lost his eye sight yet and as I literally was putting my full weight into holding his arm down, trying to put the arm strap on by myself and screaming for help he looked into my eyes with fear.  My biggest fear the entire time he was in the hospital was that he would get scared.  Once we got him tied back down and before he was sedated again I was sobbing and telling him to not be scared and that I was sorry but I had to tie him down.

 That was the last time that we are certain he had his vision and it was of me tying him down while he was scared. 

This is just one of many memories that consume my mind all of the time.  In June I was formally diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) and anxiety disorder.   By July the doctor wanted to put me on an adrenaline blocker at night so I wouldn’t dream.  Between me not sleeping from the nightmares and my son not sleeping I was barely getting 3 hours a sleep a night and it was really beginning to take a toll on me emotionally from being so physically tired.  So sitting and putting my feelings and emotions in writing was just not going to work. 

I decided tonight that I needed to write.  I was in the bed having a severe panic attack.  When I say I am tired I don’t mean just physically.  Yes, I am always physically tired.  I honestly can’t tell you the last time I was not physically tired.  On top of doing everything in my home I am doing it while in physical pain from a couple minor physical ailments I have.  More than physically I am completely emotionally exhausted.  I think about Pharon and what happened from the moment I wake up until the moment I pass out and sometimes even after that if I dream.  I am tired of having to make every single decision myself.  I am tired of the never ending work and never getting a break. I am tired of feeling guilty for asking for help.  I am tired of the sense of sorrow I feel when I see other people living these somewhat normal lives when that’s all I ever wanted in my life.  I am tired of being completely consumed in pain and grief of losing Pharon but its not something that just goes away.  I want someone to take care of me too.  I had someone who took care of me.  When I had a horrible headache I could go lay down for 30 min while waiting for the Aleve to kick in.  I could make dinner and someone else clean up.  Pharon would cook for me.  I could get my car in for an oil change without it turning into a scheduling project to see who could drop me off and pick me up.  He would help me get the kids ready. More than anything I didn’t feel alone in carrying the entire weight of the well being of our children on my shoulders. 

I am tired but I am still here.  I have some of the hardest times when I am alone in our bedroom at night.  I feel lost in my own bed.  I feel unprotected, alone and empty.   I am not giving up but I have to rest at Jesus’ feet more than ever now.