Waves

“Everyone has something they’re dealing with you know nothing about.”

‘Aint that the truth. Though, I think for anxiety sufferers, there is a real minimization of how impacted we are allowed to be by the events that strike us.

One of my two children has been struggling with mental health, to the point where have not one, not two, but three medical specialists engaged to support us and her. With each doctor visit, two er visits, paramedic visit, and specialist appointment, I’ve been forced to repeat what brought us here:

2020:
Jan – parents separate
March – pandemic hits
March – October – broken family living in isolation, together
July – forever home is sold
July – grandfather dies, unexpectedly
September – mom moves out
October – dad moves and our house becomes someone else’s

Without fail, these medical practioners wince. They look with sympathy and empathy at my child and admit ‘that is a lot. too much.’ I’ve repeated her story and felt her justified suffering. She’s had it rough.

And then, out of nowhere, tail end of the following year, as I pack up my childhood home of 42 years, packing it up due to the unexpected loss of my father, it hits me. All that stuff happened to me, too. And then some.

Jan – End my 12.5 year marriage, feeling I had no other choice
Jan (4 days later) – give Victim Impact Statement in court against scammer who used me to steal from grieving parents
March – pandemic hits
March – October – broken family living in isolation, together
July – forever home is sold
July – my daddy dies unexpectedly – pandemic times means none of my family can attend the funeral
September – I move out of my forever home, officially dividing my family
October – my forever home goes to a new family
November – I gently ask an over anxious man to give me distance, end up having to engage police. One year and two more police calls later, I’ve had to swap out my license plates, my car and my address and hide all of same, in hopes he no longer knows where I live.
2021 – my child develops an eating disorder, suicide ideation and a tic severe enough to require two er visits and three referrals to specialists.

That’s a lot.

It’s a whole hell of a lot. I joked at the turn of 2021 that my previous year was bookended by calls from victim services and neither of those incidents that triggered those calls (the scammer, the stalker) were the worst parts of my year. I joked about it but it is also the truth.

Why can I list what my child went through with understanding and empathy and refuse to look at my own laundry list of similar crap, and feel justified in being destroyed by it all?

I have been gaslit regarding the justification of my own real emotions for so long I don’t know what to feel, how to feel or if I’m even allowed to feel. Everyone is dealing with their own things, after all. They’re all getting through life. What’s my problem?

I often wish I could write publicly about some of the turmoil going on inside my heart and my soul and my head. But my truths involve other people whose lives I can’t justify talking about publicly. I’m no Rebecca Eckler. I might not have warm fuzzy feelings or I may feel like other people can learn from me, or at least commiserate. But I can not bring myself to drag other people through the mud.

It feels like I’ve been surfing since the day my marriage ended. Probably for a long time before that too, if I’m being honest. But I’m no surfer. I’ve stayed upright a lot longer than I thought I could but, the reality is, waves gotta crash. The longer the ride, the higher the wave, the bigger the crash.

My kid had a really bad year, enough to make professionals wince, and the emotional load of it became too much to handle. I gave that child all the grace in the land. There’s been none by me, for me. I have surfed through the last two+ years not allowing myself grace because everyone has something. What makes me so special?

Suck it up.
Deal.
Ignore.
Manage.
Drink.
Eat.
Sleep.

I’ve done all those things, ad nauseam. Literally. Riding that wave now feels like that dream you have where you show up to the exam having never taken the class. I don’t know how to surf. I’ve been fooling myself that I do.

There’s a real feeling of being submerged right now, of struggling for air and daylight and that sun above the clouds. I’ve talked about those people at the shore, screaming at me, waving so I see land, and see them there waiting for me. But from where I am, at my place below those clouds, on a tidal wave of emotional crap, I’m too tired to will myself to shore. I’m exhausted.

I just want to lay here and float (I have no energy to tread), hoping the storm passes so it’s easier to get to shore. In the meantime, my whole body aches from riding the wave. I can’t do that anymore, either. At least, for now, it’s something I can handle. Floating. Hoping the waters calm long enough that I can make way to shore.