My Banged-Up, Splintered Heart

I've been pretty quiet about an inordinately difficult week where I've had to revisit a painful past issue, and make a judgement call that involved investigators.  Sick to my stomach, despairing, and just sad, I plowed through.

We've had other significant challenges as well.

"How do you DO it?" I'm always asked.

The answer is - I just don't know - it's just the grace of God in which I try and function at all times, trying to make the best decisions and choices, always struggling, searching for peace, serenity and some semblance of inner healing from the trauma, but last night I felt as if I'd just never heal, maybe I best just learn to live with it.  I went to bed just sad and rather depressed.  I'm always just a scary phone call away from disaster, challenges, and problems, and late last night was no exception.

We'd had a nice dinner of black bean chili, locked the gate, and everyone had gone to bed.

I look in the mirror now and see a desiccated old lady with a billion eye wrinkles staring back sadly. So I've learned to avoid mirrors in order to stem that depressive thought.  I feel like a dried up prune.  It's hard to smile much.  Man, have I changed negatively.

"Is this Cindy's kid?" a deputy hollered at a bunch of others early this morning, my kid sprawled unconscious on the ground, an ambulance had been called, and everyone there had been struck mute apparently.  Every single one of them knew the answer to that question, but wouldn't say, knowing I was gonna be madder than a hellcat when I learned about all this.

Nah, I don't get so mad, it's just indescribably sad.  I cry a lot.

I grieve deeply for the messes they get themselves into, I don't wanna be The Fixer, although every IQ point I still have then goes into spin mode, how can I best handle this?  What should I do?  How can I help them learn from the natural consequences?  Which consequence should I, as a parent, apply to this situation?  How do we move forward?  How do I get them to understand how vitally important the word TRUST is for everyone all the time?  It is so important in The Real World.

This is not the same parenting method that I could use on normal, regular untraumatized children.

When it is all over, I generally feel like throwing up, praying that the surging cortisol within my body won't kill me prematurely, that I won't simply stroke out from fear and anxiety, I still have a ton of work to do around here, my earthly presence is still needed.

2 a.m. phone call, several hours in the ER.  I need my sleep, I still have to function everyday with or without sleep, naps are not an option.  I was in the same ER room in which my son-in-law, Preston, had coded three times in one night two years ago.  I shudder at the profound fear I felt then, he nearly died, days in the ICU unit followed, adding to my already huge trauma issues.  He'd been doing nothing wrong, unlike the one I was with at the moment.

There very easily could've been a death last night too, a set of circumstances that had evolved pointed to mortality issues.  "Do you understand this?"  A medical professional raised their voice loudly to this one hours later when there'd been an improvement.

Three possible fatal outcomes discussed, falling on deaf ears right then, I could tell.  The ride home was silent.  I need to think.  My hands shaking, my stomach churning, nausea welling up in me.  I swanny, I love them more than they love themselves.  I certainly care more about their futures than they do, or does it just boil down to me being able to think things through much better than they can do?

Thank God Grandma is here for times like these.  Even though nearly all of my children, they're mostly teens now, could be left alone,  I don't do that.  I keep a responsible adult here at all times.

I owe a huge debt of gratitude to my favorite EMT who left his truck there at the scene to ride in the ambulance, knowing darn well that was Cindy's kid.  I heard him telling the others in the ER when he saw me barreling towards them, "That's mom. Hey Cindy, how are you?" as if we'd encountered each other in the grocery store.  I love that guy.  He knew I was very shaken up.

There most likely will not be any legal consequence, I'm also not the type of person to make trouble for others.  Where this took place, the parent was unaware, distraught much later.  No, Ma'am, I don't wanna cause any problems for her.  I, too, had been asleep and unaware.  This was not a sanctioned event.  I did learn of another parent though who bought alcohol for minors - yes, I will pass that one to the deputies, I don't hide crimes. I don't want this to happen again to mine or to any others.

The only good I can take away from this was that CW, who accompanied me there, was super impressed with the young, lovely, African-American ER doctor.  Learning she was an osteopathic physician, he later told me that he found her to be encouraging to him in this profession he hopes to one day pursue.  I liked her a lot too.

The nurses were hilarious, cracking jokes to calm down this visibly upset mother.  The other ER doc had impressed me recently by an article he'd written in the newspaper about the health benefits of a plant-based diet, skipping around the word 'vegan' that has hippie, or just radical, connotations.

So what am I gonna do now?  Pray, sweat, think, pace, re-pot houseplants, clean, and work therapeutically through my very unhappy feelings, as I know from long, sad experience that it works for me.

Lily's gone to a Yoga Class, I wanna take Fabian out later for a birthday late lunch, I have pretty Marissa here playing school with Teacher Tia Tabby.  I will go on as I always do.  We're not discussing this with the others, it's another normal appearing day here.

Grown kids - don't text me, I don't feel like talking right now, and I have a lot to get done today.  Give me some time to process my feelings.  Just pray please.  Pray for good sense to make an appearance.  Again, no hay mas remedio.