9/11; 15 Years

15 years ago I was helping take care of a sweet older lady named Helen. I arrived a little early for my day shift to find Helen and one of her other caretakers in tears watching the television. It took me a moment to understand what I was seeing. No sooner had I sat down and started tearing up myself, we watched the second plane fly into the second tower. I remember vividly the small scream that escaped from Helen followed by heavy sobbing. I and the other caretaker sat there in stunned silence. We all three knew then that this was not just a tragedy but an actual attack.  For myself, it was the first time I'd really ever thought about an attack on our own soil. For Helen, it was a grisly reminder of her younger days listening to the news about Pearl Harbor being attacked. We as Americans have a sense of safety that few other countries in the world have. We feel a certain invincibility because we've heard our entire lives that we are the greatest country in the world. So when something happens it's a very rude awakening. And we ban together. We fly our flags high and unite as one. Now, 15 years later we are back to not only feeling that sense of invincibility but now we have this strange cockiness. We haven't just lowered our flags, we are burning them. We've divided over issues that while they are very much real, are not what defines us. Instead of working together to overcome our problems like we did so strongly after 9/11, we point fingers and fight between ourselves. We blame the other person and refuse to even attempt to see the others viewpoint. We have a problem and instead of working together to fix it, we expect the other person to give in to our demands. We have to stop. We have to remember that we are all neighbors. That we are blessed to be in a country that while has its faults and still needs a lot of work, is still one of the greatest in the world. Our problems exist. They are real. But what we are doing now is not how the problems are going to be fixed. Until we start working together, we are just going to create more problems. We should never forget who we are. The lives that have been lost and sacrificed so that we have the right to disagree. And above all, we must remember that every day is a gift. That tomorrow isn't promised. So we should say I love you often. Hug your kids every chance you get. Call your grandma. Kiss your spouse. Because we are all just one breath away from never having that chance again in this world. 

Have You Ever?

Have you ever looked at a strangers face and wondered if you had the same nose? Or eyebrows? Eyes, dimples, jawline? 

Have you ever stalked pictures of someone's kids on Facebook to see if you could see any sort of resemblance to yourself? Or tried to see your own children's smiles in their smiles? And when you see a slight similarity, do you doubt yourself and tell yourself it's just wish full thinking? 

Have you ever imagined a reunion full of happy tears and of being hugged so tightly, the missing pieces inside you get filled so completely you can't breathe? Have you ever imagined a reunion full of resentment and disappointment and being turned away from the one person you have spent your entire life hanging your hopes and dreams on?

Have you ever played the What If game so many times you have an entire lifetime of pretend memories made up and locked in a box deep down in your soul that you take out once in awhile and dust off just to cry over them again?

Have you ever wished for something so hard with your entire being but been too afraid of rejection or another dead-end that you just give up? That you just tell yourself it will never happen so why bother? But even while telling yourself to get over it, you know you never will stop hoping for a miracle.

Have you ever had to forgive someone who doesn't even know you exist? Have you ever had to forgive a loved one for actions and mistakes made before you were even born?

Have you ever? No? Good! You should get down on your knees and thank God for that. Because it's a special kind of hell on earth and I wouldn't wish it on anyone. 

David Glowczewski

A little over a year ago I posted about my friend Matt, my friend Jennifer's baby brother. His death was the worst thing that had ever happened to his family and something that no pain could ever match. But I was so very wrong. Because less then two years later I once again had to hold my best friend in my arms and try to find words to comfort her as she laid to rest her oldest brother. And the words have failed me all week. All there has been is tears. Tears for my friend David. For his sister's Jennifer and Tara. His parents Larry Joe and Fran. His beloved wife Debbie and their 6 children. Tears because I can't understand the pain of losing a child or one of my siblings. And I can't even begin to imagine the pain of losing two. Or of losing my husband. But for whatever reason, He called them both home early. It's not something I can understand. And will probably never understand while still on this earth. But we know that one day all will be made clear to us. But in the meantime, we're hurt. We're angry. We feel forsaken. Betrayed by a God that we trust and love. And that's okay. He can handle our anger. He's got mighty shoulders and can take our tears. In fact, He wants to comfort us and will one day wipe our every tear. We just have to hold on. And have faith.
And as Tay said today, we should remember David with a smile and a laugh. Because that's what he would have wanted. He wouldn't want us to think of him and be sad. He'd want us to mourn for him, because that's how we heal. But then he'd want us to smile for him. To crack a joke and share a laugh. Cause he was full of love and laughter. And believed everyone else should be too. Some of my fondest memories are of hanging out with David. Whether it was going back and forth to Salem to pick up Kendra. Or babysitting Brad and Brit while David worked. Or more often than not, just hanging out at David's house cause me and Stubby were broke and her mom was mad at her so we couldn't beg for more gas money from her to cruise town :) And hanging with him was always one of my favorite things to do. It was like I had the surrogate big brother that I always wanted. And it was always fun, even if all we did was watch TV and talk and laugh. Plus he'd always give me a book or two that he had just finished reading and knew I'd like. :) He was just a great man. From a great family. And my heart hurts for all of you left behind. I love you all, more than you could possibly understand. You all gave me so much happiness and I will forever be grateful to you. For allowing me to be a part of your amazingly loving, funny, beautiful, sweet, caring, ornery, family. I can't make the pain go away for you, although I wish I could. I can't answer the why's. But I can assure you that as joyful as David was while with us, he is more happy and joyful than we can even begin to imagine right now. He and Bud are both celebrating their reunion and awaiting our arrivals. And want you to be happy. They wouldn't want you to be sad for too long. Because they are so very happy right now. And are watching over you. And let's be honest, probably making fun of all of you :) Please be happy again. Please don't let your joy go away. It would break their hearts. I know it will be hard. But they'll give you the strength you need to smile again. Even when you don't feel like it, smile. For them.

PTSD in Adult Survivors of Sexual Abuse

Most people know that I was abused as a child. I've never kept it a secret. It's not my sin. I didn't choose it so why should I be embarrassed about it? And I truly believe that because these things aren't spoken about, it helps to let the abuse and stigma around abuse to continue and keeps the healing from coming for the victims. Yes, I was severely sexually abused for many years by a family member and have suffered from depression, anxiety and PTSD for decades. But I survived. In the only way I could.

I came across this article a few days ago and wanted to post about it but had some other things going on. But you guys, this article is spot on. It is a long, in depth read but if you have a friend or family member and statistically you do, probably more than 1 actually, that has been abused. Or if you are a survivor yourself. It is so worth the read. You will understand so much more about us and how we've survived. My husband has struggled by my side for 15 years trying to navigate the minefield that is PTSD. He has seen more of the ugly side of me than anyone else has ever seen. And it's been hard on our marriage at times. But he's stuck by me through every nightmare, angry lash outs, and crying spells over the most trivial of things. And that is my biggest regret. That he has to hurt for what was done to me. He hurts for me because I hurt. Although I know he wouldn't trade it for the world, it's not fair to him.

But anyways, here is a very small excerpt from the article. Kind of shows the many sides of survivors personalities. We may act fine and extroverted but in reality it's a facade that we put in place to keep others from digging too deep into our psyche and seeing the ugliness.

 "Survivors with PTSD may avoid any intimate connection, often resulting in feelings of detachment or estrangement from others....Survivors often have highly developed social skills and may seem to be extremely extroverted, but their dealings with others may preclude vulnerability"

Please take 10 minutes if you can and read it. And maybe the next time one of your friends or family members acts out in a certain way, you just might understand a little better. Or the next time your friend has to take an anxiety pill over something trivial (to you) you might understand why the trivial things are so much harder for us. When something sad happens, you might understand a little better why we can't function for days when most are over it within a few hours.

Just read it, for me. Please.http://www.naasca.org/2011-Articles/081411-PTSDinAdultSurvivors.htm

Nick

This picture may not look particularly special to anyone else but to someone like me, this is absolutely breathtaking. Because while some kids had imaginary friends, I had an imaginary daddy. One who played with me and loved me and protected me. And as I became a teenager and my imagination faded, so did my hope. Because I knew in my heart of hearts, that it would never get better. That I would never be better. That I would never amount to anything good. And now, as an adult watching my husband with our children, I know how truly wrong I was. I realize that it does get better. That I am better. That the sad little girl who cried over a daddy that didn't exist and the depressed teenager who had thoughts of suicide, were gone. I put them to rest. I became the woman those poor girls could never even imagine becoming. The woman that those girls needed but didn't have. And I did it with this man's help. Would I have been able to do it on my own? Probably. But it was so much more bearable to have someone who believed in me when even I didn't believe in me, to help. So when these moments happen, when my husband lays on the floor playing with our kids. When he changed our babies diapers. When he rocked them to sleep. When he reads the bedtime stories. When he helps with their homework. When he's sitting with them at the dinner table trading movie quotes and knock knock jokes. In those moments, I close my eyes and send a silent, thankful prayer up that God answered my prayers from so long ago. I asked Him to send a daddy down to save me. And He did. He just did it on His own time and in His own way, as He always does. Because I wanted a daddy growing up. And still do if I'm being completely honest. But what I need more than that is a daddy who loves his children and their mother with every ounce of his being.
So God sent me Nick.