Wednesday, March 1, 2017
Since we started along this journey almost six years ago, I've held on to the core pieces of my upbringing: having Faith, Hope, and Love in everything I do. I was raised in the Catholic church and sometimes the path of our new TBI life takes me to the edge of accepting that form of religion again, but then questions of God and "why did this happen to us" stop me in my tracks.
I've come to understand that I can pray anywhere, without the wrathful, vengeful God I grew up with. It helps to put my burdens on something bigger than myself... a Higher Power, if you will. Simply asking "help me with ____" or "help me to accept ____" somehow makes the problem seem smaller.
Perhaps one day I'll figure out how to accept a formal religion again, but for today I accept that I'm not responsible for fixing the world and I'm practicing my own form of religion - one full of Hope, Faith, and Love. Sending prayers to all who struggle.
Thursday, February 16, 2017
I recently wrote about my life before my husband's accident and how it changed me. If you missed it, go here: The Old Me. I made a list of the things I lost - most importantly, photography, and I think I've been mad since then. Until I sat down and wrote, I didn't realize how my hobbies and routines defined who I was as a unique individual, seeing things in my own special way.
Since then, it's all I can think about. I realize the gravity of the things I lost. While taking care of everyone else, I managed to lose me. When our eight children were struggling with the changes and his parents were struggling with the new "David", I was keeping everyone calmly assured that things would be okay and life would get better. I never stopped to think about my own grief and how to process all of the feelings I was bombarded with.
I think I'm angry and I'm definitely sad. Now, to do something about it......
Sunday, February 12, 2017
It's been six years since my husband's accident and I'm still trying to sort through the feelings and changes that make me who I am today. I've decided I miss the old me and am trying to find a way back to the person I was.
The old me was confident. She shared things, like when she was happy about something, or when something wonderful happened, or for no particular reason. She was a regular on social media, updating her friends and family about her new married life, the new town she lived in, how her kids were doing in their new school.
She took pictures of everything, all the time. She loved to take pictures, framing each shot the way she saw it, capturing the memory of the way that moment in time made her feel. She was hopeful for the future and imagined making a living by selling her photographs, visiting far away destinations to catch the beauty that was everywhere. The old me had nothing to fear about the future.