The Change You Don't Choose

There is this hole. It’s a me-sized hole, dug some time ago and it is a hole that will never be filled. Trauma helped me dig it and trauma helps me climb back in when times get tough. 

Saying that I’ve come very far in this journey with Carter, mentally, is an understatement. Unless you have lived it, it’s almost impossible to describe what happens when the life you have been living stops, and you are forced to start a new one instantly. In the span of less than 6 months I went from preparing for a life with our little pumpkin, to a struggling first time mom who was fighting with doctors, to the mother of a disabled child.

Trauma called me early on to dig this hole. Trauma visited and sat with me in this hole daily. I certainly didn't follow the seven steps of grief in order and I continually revisit each step more than once. It was in this hole that I spent months in denial, angry, bargaining with God to regain some type of control. There were only fleeting moments where I would peek my head out of the hole, confident that I had a hold on my life, only to have it come crashing down causing me to scurry right back inside. 

Did I mention that there is no bottom to this hole? There is no floor, nowhere to rest, just walls. Walls that I cling to, riding out whatever storm is passing. Many times, while already in a crisis, another crisis would hit. I am barely hanging on in this dark hole, alone, while trauma starts digging the hole deeper. To this day, I feel like I have hit rock bottom, but I know there is much more below. At some point, I am not sure when, healing offered to build me a net. A net that I landed on safely, even when I wasn't safe by myself.

Each day, we climbed together, healing and me. It may have been millimeters, but it was something nonetheless. It isn't easy. Some days I step backward, some days I move forward and most days I stay right where I am. Terrified to move. 

I hate this hole. I wish I could pack up my things and leave it behind, but sometimes, there is nowhere else I want to be. In the early days, I spent more time in the hole that I spent out of it. It's a tiny little hole. There is no room for friends or family or my husband. I certainly can't bring work into this dark, dreary hole and sleeping is out of the question. Remember, there is no bottom. I even forgot what food tasted like because I stopped eating. 

Healing, though, is not linear and I will never fully heal from this trauma. So I slowly and methodically worked my way out of the hole, but I emerged someone new. Nothing about this new person resembled the old me. I had become a better person. I healed the relationships worth healing and cut out the ones dragging me down. My husband and I fought to survive and it has made our relationship stronger. My life has changed dramatically. So much so, that I can't remember how I operated any differently. 

The hole still exists. I still visit, probably more often than I should. Small things trigger me. Carter vomiting takes me back to when he was failure to thrive, not gaining weight and throwing every thing up...every day...for 16 months. I hated life. I didn't want to be Carter's mom. The thought of going back to that place or the feelings I felt scare me into submission. Even something as tiny as a burp will stop me dead in my tracks, stomach on the floor, knot in my throat, full blown panic attack. 

So, I visit. 

The visits have gotten shorter and I have gotten stronger, but the hole will always exist. The only difference now is I have a village to help me climb out.