Thursday, November 19, 2009

I traveled back in time today

W h a t
h a s
h a p p e n e d
t o
m e?

I just read back in the old journal- the CaringBridge website. Spent about an hour with that hard and crazy year. Then I just had to stop- stop reading more. Save it for when I'm ready to write my book. But wow- I am going to need some serious support when I start that book. (And honestly, that is what I want to do at this point in my life.)

I saw the strong, courageous me. I saw the will to go on, to work, to heal, to let Robert leave [to America to take care of his Dad, I had totally forgotten about that] for a week; and this all within the first 6 months after NF. I was doing births even before my pressure garment was made. I did a birth sitting, with only soft cloths filling in gapey, searing pain with scrapey, and I was driven and proud of my accomplishment. I *know* that to some of you it was pure madness that I was doing that. The week Robert was gone I had clients every night for birth preparation. And I told the orchestra that I'd be free the next month after the births pass. I was trying to be the old me, and I couldn't deal with it any other way. It took a long time to stop working. It took another hospitalization (cellulitis), actually.

But after reading that, I feel like... I have turned into a person more fearful, more dependent on Robert, more dependent on medication (I wasn't on anything at the time), and more kvetchy (complaining), if you ask me. Then, I had some serious PTSD until I got the right meds, but now I am dependent on those same meds (and sometimes others added to the cocktail), and I am still struggling with PTSD. This time from last month's surgery. And it has joined my life with a fury, unfortunately. Bad dreams, flashbacks (not only limited to the appendectomy surgery), noise sensitivity, depression. It stinks.

I complain a lot. Please give me some perspective here- was my character stronger then? (The CaringBridge website is at the right sidebar of the blog here if you are interested in memory lane a bit).

I am thinking of canceling clients which I accepted for the end of Dec, beginning of January (a month from now). What if one goes into labor early, while Robert is still away? I am very scared of his trip, but I try not to imply any of that now to him- he needs support and blessings. (He doesn't read this blog unless I direct him to a certain entry once in a while). And could I handle a birth? What if it is 15 hours, like some have been (and it is not unusual)? I feel so not ready to work, but I am scared that that situation won't change unless I plunge in and do it already. But I know I want a month before taking on clients to work on my work; update my prenatal classes, get a real yoman (date book; I have been working only with the family calendar, and it is not organized enough for a professional business), make a neater system to keep information, write-ups, and files, and set a date that I will open business again. But will I really do that? I have been out of working now for about a year, except for a few births here and there. I have been out of the organization and clear definitions of work; and not clear enough when pregnant couples have called me. I have given wishy-washy responses, and I don't like that. It's not me.

But... there exists now the PT, the recovering from two recent surgeries, and major insecurity that I will not be able to go forward. Scared about the pain I have from bursitis and recent arthroscopic surgery, scared that the PVNS will return, picturing it
waiting for me around the corner (the tumor isn't fully out, but we'll find out about the reality of the picture with the MRI in a month). A tumor disease... I am scared of what could be next if I don't get myself straightened out.

When did I get so unstable? It has been insidious, sneaking into my personality over these past few years. After the NF, I was dealing with serious depression, but I wasn't scared to work. Not scared to take care of my kids alone. I often wrote about the treadmill that I couldn't get off of, but now I think I have succeeded in getting off, mostly. But with my new state of being, it still feels overwhelming often, and this is without working.

I am scared that I will never be able to open my doula practice again. What a waste of a good doula, of which there aren't any others in my region to direct these couples to. What a waste of my chance to build emotional (and to some extent, financial) security. A chance to give something very special to these couples. But I feel that I don't have "giving" to spare. It feels selfish.

But I am here for my kids... albeit not feeling well fairly often. I am home, available. But, fearful of doing the care-taking alone. Fearful of so many things.

I feel like I have changed into someone weaker. It's supposed to work the other way around with time, isn't it?

I am even scared to do the PT that I am supposed to do myself every day. It didn't happen today. My stomach still hurts, the appendectomy incision is still sore occasionally, and I am still having appetite issues. I am the lightest weight now than I have been in my whole adult life- lighter than I was even when I came home after NF. That, in and of itself is OK by me, but I need proper nutrition. I feel weak. (again, kvetching- it'll sort itself out, I *know* that)

Really, what has happened to me? Where are my strengths hiding? I need perspective here.

1 comment :

  1. Sarah,

    You are still you and you are still here. Don't lose track of that. I am far far away and am grateful you are not only alive, but fighting and blogging and being so brutally honest that it sometimes hurts me to read about it. I know that your body and parts of your mind are not cooperating (to say the least!) but I still see YOU - your desires, your priorities, your love, your faith. Those things shine through your pain and your struggle, and those are YOU.

    Choosing to put off going back to your doula work is taking charge. It's not weakness, it's not chickening out - quite the opposite. I do agree that many pregnant women are missing out on your skill and experience and compassion as a doula, but that is their path to walk, not yours.

    Your gifts are still there, again I say that you are still you. I see it in your words, and I am thrilled that the idea of a book has taken root in you. I look forward to the day when you take another look back and say "Ahhh, so *THIS* is where I was headed all that time. I had no inkling back then that my life would again be so fulfilling." That day will come. You are still you, and if I am grateful for that, those around you must be extraordinarily grateful. -Kathy

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