Saturday, October 31, 2009

10/31 Time to Assess; Inventory of Loss

I took a week away from full-time caregiving to take stock of my own self. A beloved man, a life, a world, a novel I've invested years in, a home, a future, a partnership, a neighborhood, a dream, my balance, my rest -- these are only a few of the things that were snatched from me, instantly, some irrevocably, with one act of violence.

I allowed myself to feel a tidal wave of grief on Thursday. I realized, painfully, that I was not equal to the task of creating a rich learning environment for those sweet kids over at Highland. (I fell in love with them instantly.) Another deeply felt loss. Normally, I could do it, and it hurt to see clearly in myself that I didn't have the emotional resources. Management of Chuck's care and stabilization of our lives (and a pending move to an as-yet-undetermined place) will continue to command much focus and energy.

Humility, I've heard, means having a clear sense of both our strengths and our limitations. I cannot dwell in this sorrow but I needed to let it arrive.

I recognized all the ways I am setting myself up for adrenal fatigue, heart problems, depression and other stress-related illnesses. I realized I must go more gently and restfully through the days. I know I will need a long retreat (hospitalization for the soul and spirit). I will want to encourage return of my own function: creative, intellectual, emotional, physical.

I too am a victim of trauma.

1 comment:

  1. Please be gentle with yourself. There is no yardstick by which you are expected to measure up. No wife knows how she would do if suddenly she were to find herself in your circumstances. It is healthy to be broken when it is necessary to become someone else.
    Think about how an egg has to be broken and the shell tossed away, in order to become many wonderful things in countless different ways.
    Each survivor of a TBI and the loved ones go through this brokeness and each person comes out of it with a plan that works uniquely for him/her.
    Not every broken egg must be an omelette. I would prefer to be meringue on a pie any day!