Stuck, Watching the World Move On
“Life is a balance of holding on and letting go.” ~ Rumi
Growing up, I was motivated, I had goals and direction and knew where I was going in life. And, I was happy.
Something happened, after I was attacked. My life went on pause, while the rest of the world went on without me. Don’t get me wrong. I was still going through the motions of life, because I had two very young children who depended on me. On the inside, though, I was feeling everything and nothing at the very same time.
I can remember the joy and pain of going to church on Sundays, and the struggle of getting two active, little ones ready to go on my own, when I could barely pull myself together. On one hand, I longed for church. There was peace and comfort, there. Everything from the music, to the scriptures, to the prayers, to the family and friends, anchored me and gave me strength to make it through a few more hours and days.
On the other hand, our church was a family church. Nearly everyone there was married, and there were young, happy couples everywhere. So many times, I would come home from church, put the kids to bed, and crumble into tears; because, no matter how badly I might want for things to be different, I knew I wasn’t really one of them. I was an outsider. They were a kind group and they included me in things; but, I was watching from the outside as their lives were moving on and mine wasn’t.
One of the biggest heartaches for me came out of a special program our church ran for our children and youth, called the AWANA program. Anyone, who knows me, knows that my gift in life is teaching. While I enjoy teaching any age group, my heart has always been especially drawn towards teaching teenagers. More than anything else in this world, I longed to teach the teens in our church’s AWANA program. For one year, right after my attack, I had the joy of teaching that class. Not only did I get the opportunity I had prayed for, for years; but, I also got to teach the class with my sister and her husband. My sister has always been my dearest friend, so being in that class was probably the closest to being happy I could get, in that year. Working with those teenagers was one of the best things to happen to me in that time period, soon after the attack. And, then....
My brother-in-law was voted in as the assistant pastor in our church and was given new duties and responsibilities. He would no longer be teaching the class, and my sister would be moving to another class, as well. Their lives were moving on, and I was happy for them. This was their dream. However, since the teen class was a mixed class of male and female students, our church only allowed married couples to teach it, and I wasn’t married. The attack had ended my marriage.
The realization that I would not be allowed to take over as the teacher of the class, was one of the most devastating moments of my whole, entire life. Of all the things my attacker had taken from me, that was, by far, one of the most difficult to deal with. My goal, my dream had been taken away from me. It was like someone had reached inside and pulled out my heart and crushed my soul. I felt numb one moment and I couldn’t stop crying, the next.
If “life is a balance of holding on and letting go”, then I had been barely holding on for the first year after my attack. When my safe place and my refuge, my church, made me let go of my dream, holding on became nearly impossible.
According to the Joyful Heart Foundation*, common mental effects of assault can be Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, and Dissociation, which is defined as not being able to focus on work and not feeling present in everyday situations. Though I did not know it, at the time, I was experiencing all of these; although, suicidal thoughts were immediately dismissed, because, my children needed me. The Foundation also lists the following as some of the common emotional effects: shock, numbness, loss of control, disorientation, sense of vulnerability, self blame, and a feeling that these reactions are a sign of weakness. I was struggling with all of these, too. Additionally, I felt damaged and unworthy, unable to cope. Other common struggles, which I also was dealing with, at the time, were anxiety, chronic fatigue, muscle tension, involuntary shaking (at times), and trouble eating and sleeping.
As I said, I was barely holding on, that first year. I was going through the motions, but never feeling present or a part of life. I was watching all the happy people from my outsider point of view, wishing with all my heart I could have what they had. When the realities really sunk in, that my hopes and my dreams were shattered, I couldn’t hold on, any longer. It was soon, after that, that I finally reached a breaking point and sought the help I so desperately needed.
For me, life didn’t start getting better, until I made the decision to let go of everything, except my goals and dreams, and move about 2,400 miles away. Suddenly, my life was no longer on pause. I was working towards my goals, again. And, I was happy.
* http://twitter.com/@TheJHF