Finally a light at the end of the tunnel...

Day by day, I am STILL, months later, coming to terms about Bria's surgery this summer. I am slowly realizing that, even though the surgery itself is now over, the impact it had, (has) on us is so much more than 2 hours of agonized waiting, or 3 days in the hospital, or 2 weeks of slow recovery.

The process really started almost a year ago, when Bria's MRI results showed that she'd need (another) brain surgery.

I'm not even sure how one person can change so very much in less than a year, but I will tell you, it is darn painful, and the times I thought I was going to lose myself are too numerous to count.

I have always wished that I was one of those people that handled fear, or loss, or pain, with a beautiful outlook, cheerful little quips, and a renewed sense of hope in the face of struggle.

Not so.

About a year ago, the THINGS started happening.

Nightmares.

Racing heart.

Panic attacks.

Chronic illness.

Weight loss.

And that is all just the physical stuff. Those were some of the ways my body was telling me it was not happy about what was going on. I KNEW I was not happy, and I was even more not happy that my body insisted on giving me updates all the time. I KNOW, body. I really do know.

Honestly, what was even harder, was the transformation I seemed to undergo. My personality. Heck, even my beliefs. My ability to stand strong went out the window, and the months leading up to the surgery, it was almost as if I "tried on" a different person.

Maybe, subconsiously, it was like I wished for less pain, less fear...if I could just get away from being, ME.

I spent less time with God.

A friendship was battered, almost beyond recognition.

My marriage struggled for air, and practically drowned.

I mentally and emotionally checked out.

I no longer enjoyed the hobbies I used to.

And this was all before the surgery. Afterwards, even though I was now carrying around EVEN MORE baggage than before, I was able to see a little more clearly in the rearview mirror. Of course I did not like what I saw.

I asked myself why I was so weak.

Why could I not keep calm and carry on?

Why didn't I stand more firm, in my faith, in my family?

I cannot even fathom how one person, one body, can carry around so much without exploding, but I know I did it.

Our time in Colorado Springs, during the surgery and after, are actually still a blur. Each day it is as if we only have a minute or 2 to process one part of the whole picture. It was so much, so huge, so big, that we were tiny particles in the middle of a giant painting. As time goes on, we take one step back here, and one there. I actually don't think we can see the whole picture, even today.

One moment I will remember what the Operating Room looked like, smelled like, sounded like, as I hugged Bria and kissed her little forehead.

Another moment I might ask Luke about what it was like, that first night in the hospital, when Bria woke up with pain beyond belief, and how he was able to handle the awful hour that followed.

Sometimes we talk about one little event, or another, that was scary, funny, hard, sad, or joyous in some way.

But we can't ever put it all together, because it was so much bigger than we were. It was so beyond us.

I often wonder what it is like for parents with terminally ill children, or kids who have cancer. How can you live in a world that is so big, so full of fear and unknown, day after freaking day?

After the surgery, my body and personality continued to change. 

There were many days when I didn't even know who I was anymore. 

What do I like?

What do I believe in?

Will I ever even WANT to leave the house?

The panic attacks, depression, fear, anxiety, and physical symptoms persisted.

I told Luke that I dreaded going to sleep, because my dreams were so vivid, haunting, and utterly exhausting.

I began to despair of ever feeling like "myself" again. 

I tried to pray, but I felt unworthy of God's time and effort. Why would he want to listen to someone so weak? Someone who had the opportunity to show His love and didn't? Maybe He WANTED me to suffer, to slap some sense into the strange person I was becoming.

I don't even have an "end" to this story yet. Just a glimmer of hope, that will hopefully grow into something more as time goes on. No, I KNOW it will grow into something more, even though I can't see it yet. 

After saying "no" to everything, after hours of forced relaxation, long talks with friends and husband, time spent with family, more long talks with friends and husband, innumerable tears, sheer exhaustion-frustration-self-loathing-grief-guilt-sleep-illness, we saw a light at the end of the tunnel.

I have had one full week of no nightmares.

I have had 2 weeks of little to no tachycardia, (racing heart), or other weird heart stuff.

I have had no panic attacks for over a month.

I have also had several other small successes: getting out with friends and handling it pretty darn well. Leaving town all by myself and handling it pretty darn well. Actually looking forward to leaving my house. 

I know that God often uses situations in life to "prune" us, shape us up a bit. It is not comfortable, or peaceful, or joyous.

Afterward though, I FEEL more comfortable, peaceful, and joyous. I am finding myself, through God, a little more each day. I still have no idea who I am, but I am learning peace through that. 

God knows.

Heck, He knew what I was going to do before I did it.

He loved me through every bad attitude.

He held me through every panic attack.

He walked beside me as I paced in my home, afraid to leave.

He watched me as I slept through nightmares, woke, and tried to calm my beating heart.

He has His eye on the big picture, even though I don't.

He knows what is up ahead for us, and Bria. He knows what it feels like for us, to live each year in the knowledge that our daughter may never be "out of the woods" when it comes to her diagnosis.

For now, that has to be ok with me. I have to be ok with giving Him the bigger picture, and not knowing what is ahead....and not even understanding what already happened.

Because I tell you one thing, when I tried to handle it myself, I messed up. Bigtime.

Thank the Lord for mercy, forgiveness, and love. 

You never know when you'll need a thousand tons of it.