4 trauma lessons

In no particular order here are 4 random learning lessons trauma is teaching me so far (I've learned more than 4 but these are the ones that stand out today).

 1. Trauma has produced an awarenesses of unresolved past grief and the need to forgive and internally resolve before I can move forward.

It's interesting how when a life changing traumatic event happens the ripple effect from the event goes both backwards and forward.  The processing of stressful emotions reveal what is unresolved from the past while also setting the framework for processing going forward.  The inadequate emotional tools we have preceding the event are the same ones we have after the life altering event.  Many times, the inadequate tools (that may have worked a fraction of what they should prior) prove completely worthless for what we need to healthily process and heal from the current traumatic event.  Left unattended, the skillset will prove to allow additional heartache and loss to occur on sheer inadequate processing principle.  I have found that a good trauma therapist is very helpful to navigate getting these tools.  My therapist is skilled in EMDR, which I find helpful.  She is also skilled in going back to childhood and emotionally healing forward to make sure complete understanding and a well rounded emotional skillset (proper tools) is gained. 

2. Trauma has shown me that my own and/or others expectations of how I should walk forward or handle the trauma can be very unrealistic and unfair.

It makes my heart sad to even type the next sentence because of the awareness I have now.  I can think of multiple times I have come alongside someone in their trauma and had my own agenda in mind.  I've mentally (even subconsciously) put them on a timeframe for benchmarks they should be accomplishing because that is what seemed healthy (to me) and the "Christian" way they should be doing it.  It was both self serving and arrogant of me and incredibly naive.  Looking at the root of my reason for why I did this, it stemmed from wanting to be back into my comfort zone as quickly as possibly (self serving).  Whether it was an idealistic view of how I thought a Christian should handle trauma or that I was uncomfortable having to embrace empathy and sorrow for where they were at, or multiple other reasons.  Empathy and sorrow for another takes laying aside our own desires or demands and taking up a quiet humility and soft spirit- a dying to self and a picking up the cross of Jesus.

As the crushing blow of trauma came for me, it was the precious ones who could sit with me where I was at (and even to this day where I am at), not personalizing my diagnosis to themselves or trying to push me up to a place where they were willing to meet me, that are the deepest ministry.  I feel like Jesus, in me, has been my deepest comfort with He then using a few others to come along side tangibly.  It is a deep desire of my heart to be one of those few, in others lives.  A sacrifice with no real earthly fanfare but the heavenly reward worth its weight in gold.

3. Trauma has challenged my belief system- the realistic has stayed but the idealistic or unrealistic is quickly being stripped away.

Trauma has challenged me to a deeper faith.  It has stripped me of any sort of health security I knew and replaced it with the reality that at any given time, my cancer can come back.  The daily medications, testing, blood work, bilateral mastectomy, and left axillary lymph node dissection, etc. are a decent protection for as long as the cancer does not mutate or wake up from dormancy but it's not a guarantee. There is the chance all the cancer is gone but only a chance (with the percentage shrinking with each lymph node that was positive).  It would be idealist and unrealistic for me to live my life acting like my struggle is done.  The realistic approach for me is to cling to the guarantee I do have, Jesus.  On my fearful days, I wrap my heart up with Psalm 139, especially vs. 16, "all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be." None of us will live a day longer or shorter than what Jesus has called for us to do.  No disease, diagnosis, or situation will change that- no matter what it is.  The full surrender to this is both deeply comforting and completely heart wrenching- what if the time Jesus has for me is different then the time I would like.  The harsh reality is that we are not spared agonizing times here on earth.  God is always good and life is deeply hard. Do I trust Jesus to the point that I can rest in His sovereignty?  It's a work in progress....  

4. Trauma is teaching me so much about thankfulness

It's deeply hard to admit because I would like to feel like my diagnosis is more in the rear view mirror than what it is but the reality is, I wake up most every day with the same thought, 'I have today- thank you Jesus and please let me make the most of it...and please Jesus, just one more day- and then another- and then another'  I don't take for granted that today is offered. There is not a day that goes by that I don't mentally calculate the gift that the day is- even on the days where my medication is kicking me to the curb and I have no energy or the days where my bones ache more than what I would ever admit (medication and not having estrogen).  It might sound like some sort of gag-me, do-gooder, 'thankful' over achiever but the reality is, while none of us have the promise of tomorrow, not all of us have to stare the reality in the face everyday.  For those of us that do, perspective is incredibly important.  My heart goes out to anyone walking these shoes, even typing the paragraph above brought me to tears.  Life's a tough gig, a tough tough gig, but I'm so thankful for it (and for my Jesus).

 

Breast Cancer Journey This Far...

In early October, I was able to speak to a group of mom's about my breast cancer journey, this far, and what God has walked me through:

those top pigtails

 At the beginning of my breast cancer diagnosis, I journaled often.  I remember thinking that I wanted to remember and document as much as I could. There was comfort and emotional sorting as I would write out what was going on. Several months in, I realized that a dread would start.  Just as soon as the pen hit the paper a knot would form in my gut and my emotions would feel like they were swirling out of control- it was no longer comforting but, instead, a reminder of the heartache and hardship my family and myself were trying to survive. 

I've been telling myself to blog, at least a bit, but have not been sure if it is the best thing emotionally.  I still don't know but thought I would sit down this afternoon and at least try. I can't go deep into the emotions but can swim on the surface for a short time.

I've been walking this new road for 14 months.  Most of it has been just trying to survive (literally) and the remaining has been trying to sort through how to move forward.  I don't have any big insight or life changing advise but I do have a few things that I've personally refined.

Priorities have been refined.  There is not a lot of emotional space (thank you chemo, exhaustion, meds, and overall trauma) so the space I have is weighed carefully and dispersed accordingly.  God, Matt, my kids/grandbabies, my extended family and close friends...a lot of times, I don't have enough to get past the first 3, which is humbling and hard, but my prayer is that in time, I will have more to give.  I used to give and give and give (and give) but just can't do that anymore.

Purposeful- Like I said above, I used to give and give and give, a lot of times not thinking through whether it was the best use of my time or energy. I would tell myself that this is what we do, give.  Now, I have to think through my time and decide whether what I'm doing is purposeful (sometimes purposeful means laying on my bed and watching a movie or shopping at Goodwill- this is being purposeful about rest and my mental health).  I have found, as I'm intentional about my purpose, I enjoy doing whatever I am doing, much more.

Protective- I feel a lot more protective over giving others dignity, including myself.  This has always been important to me, on the fringe, but the personal struggles though this diagnosis has brought this protectiveness more front and center.  I will have health struggles for the rest of my life (even when they are not apparent to anyone other then me).  My physical body will never be the same nor will the way I view the world psychologically.  This is deeply humbling and has kicked me off of any high horse I may have ever hoped to ride.  I will always relate to the weaker person (both physically and mentally) and pray I can articulate dignity to others well in this. I also pray I can emotionally protect, both with my words and actions, those who are weaker.

Promises- I repeat over and over to myself, ever single day, God's promises and then pray through them.  Life's hardships are a lot and I could not imagine walking this road without the Lord's constant presence and His promises.

I've also chosen to laugh more (even when I don't feel like it), not put off the things I've always wanted to do, eat much healthier (I don't even miss sugar anymore), and start smoking (no judging).

That's all I've got for today but hopefully I'll be back soon!

p.s. I didn't really start smoking- that's just not my jam....chemo jacks up your sense of smell and the aroma of smoke is pungent (if you smoke, I'm not judging you, so no messages of offense.  What I will say though is, you reek......smile). 

This picture is from last night- Matt and I were on our way out to dinner. It was really hot and I had been in a wig all day.  At the last minute, I took the wig off and had wild chemo curl hair and didn't have time to style it.  The front is long enough that I could put it back in top pig tails.....a 47 year old woman in top pigtails.......it's the humble train guys, THE HUMBLE TRAIN...but thank you Jesus for hair!

We met my 2 sister in laws (Heidy and Lori) and 2 brother in laws (John and Wayne) for dinner last night.

Vantage Point

I remember watching a movie several years ago that depicted the same story over and over only each time it was recounted, it was from a different person’s vantage point. Where they were when the event went on determined what they saw, what they experienced, their reactions, and ultimately, how the event impacted them. That's what todays blog post feels like- the same story about God's love and faithfulness, recounted through the vantage point of a different view then what I have ever had. I've experienced and seen God's tender love and faithfulness through a difficult childhood, through miscarriage, marriage struggles, anxiety attacks, friend and family struggles, adoption, one of my children's health struggles, the heaven going of my 14-year-old nephew...and more. This is the first time though, that I have experienced it through the vantage point of facing my own mortality. 

 

Most of you know that I was diagnosed with breast cancer in May of 2022. It was supposed to be an easy lumpectomy with a few lymph nodes in my left armpit area removed- I was prepared to probably need some chemotherapy and radiation but, the overall outcome was very favorable. No big alarm bells were ringing for the oncologists or doctors involved. 1 in 8 women will experience some sort of breast cancer in their lifetime and I was one of them- it's a well-studied cancer and the treatment is streamlined down to a science.

 

 Most of you also know that by the time all my pathology was complete, I needed a bilateral mastectomy, a complete lymph node dissection on my left side (25 lymph nodes removed) and was diagnosed with stage 3C aggressive breast cancer (T3 N3a M0). The alarm bells rang loud that July day, last year, and in some not-too-distant way, they will ring for the rest of my life. Due to the amount of cancer found, I was sent for all the scans (MRI, CT, bone, PET)- it was suspected that the cancer had already spread outside of my lymph nodes (in the left armpit area) but if it didn't (it was determined it had not), I was let know that all stops would be pulled and treatment to beat the cancer back would be hard and relentless. I was put into instant menopause (Lupron), had a bilateral mastectomy (chose no reconstruction), dose dense harsh chemo started 13 days after surgery (AC-T), followed by 6 weeks of 4 different fields on my left upper body/back radiated, and finally, a lifetime of difficult medication and monitoring. 

 

Even with all of this, I was let know that my recurrence rate (the chance that the cancer will at some point return) will always be a possibility. I will never be able to move on completely from my diagnosis. In one test result, my vantage point changed completely. I was faced with looking at the same God I have known since I was 8 years old, from a different perspective. Who is He and what does He look from such a life altering (and incredibly hard) view.

 

 I am only 9 months into this journey, what I have to offer from my vantage point is not much, but what I can offer is hope. I don't like talking about the degree of how extensive my cancer is/was because it's triggering- my mind has a hard time coming back to a non-trauma place after I talk (or write) about it. I only bring up its extent, so you have a better understanding of where I'm at when I share with you what I am learning. 

 

I have 'grief' days- days where the trauma of what has gone on and the reality of looking forward is a lot, on these days, my psyche forces me to live in that reality. On a grief day (I never know when they will be), I feel a grief and heaviness that is more than what my human mind can comprehend. At times, I can feel my thoughts starting a vacuum, remembering traumas from before and what-ifs for the future, in a downward spiral. It is so overwhelming when this happens. 

 

I was standing in my laundry room one day, several months ago, and was completely overwhelmed with grief. I felt so emotionally heavy I wasn't sure what to do next. When my thoughts tried to think about anything other than grief, my mind just felt blank (and I would return to thinking about the grief I was feeling). At this point, the only thing I could think to do was to cry out to God. As I was crying out to God, I started speaking out everything I knew to be true about Him, praising Him for who He is.... 

 

You are Almighty (Rev. 4:8) 

You are love (John 3:16) 

You are truth (John 14:6) 

You are our strength (Psalm 28:7) 

You will carry our burdens (Psalm 55:22) 

You are sovereign (Rom. 8:28) 

You know and have ordained every day for us (Psalm 139) 

You are rest (Matt. 11:28) 

The list could go on 

 

I noticed that as I was speaking these truths out, I picked my eyes up from the ground and looked heavenward- I was looking at the ceiling in my laundry room, crying out in desperation, God's truths. The more I redirected my thoughts to who God is, the more peace and strength I felt. It didn't change my reality (that will never change) but it did give me hope and redirection for my fearful and overwhelmed thoughts. It also gave me renewed hope that whatever our circumstances, God is enough, and He will see us through, no matter what. 

 

Since that day in my laundry room, I have had to do this same thing over and over (and will have to always).  Each time, I am always filled with a Peace that passes all understanding. Life is still so very hard...but God.

 

Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

Isaiah 41:10

 

the goodbye now and the someday still to come

Ellie’s birth mom, Heather, passed away on January 31.  Soon after hearing of Heather's passing, Ellie shared with Matt and I that it was important to her to have a place to physically remember Heather.  She wanted it to be a place she could always visit, if she wanted, and a place she could bring her own children to see someday.  She also wanted it to be a place that she and her brothers (if they chose) could leave cards and letters at, in the years to come.  

Matt and I initially thought we would do this in Oregon, someplace close to our home.  As we talked to Ellie more, she shared that she wanted to have that place be in Athens, Georgia, where Heather lived and where we visited her last year.  She also asked if she could go to Georgia and say goodbye to Heather, in her own way.  

Oh Ellie, yes...absolutely, yes.

A plaque with Heather's name on it will hang on the Mausoleum wall at Athens Memory Gardens- The plaque is in the process of being made even as I type this.  Directly behind the plaque, in the niche where normally ashes would go, will be the start of a keepsake collection, from Ellie to Heather....For the goodbye now, for the written things in the years to come. and for that someday (to show her own babies).  

Our scheduled flight out to Georgia was cancelled two days in a row (snow and an ice storm in Portland and Seattle) last week so we rescheduled for next month.  Matt, Ellie, and I will fly across the country, drive the 2 hours from Atlanta to Athens, and make our way to Athens Memory Gardens for a heartfelt and sad goodbye.

We love you Heather.

 

 

It's been awhile

Well Hi :) It's been awhile!

 It seems like a lifetime ago, blogging.  I've been telling myself for weeks that I was going to sit down and write a blog post- for no other reason than the fact that it used to be a normal part of my week- Now, it's not even a normal part of my year.  I still write (type), only its medical assessments, documenting medications and health history (for my job) instead of delving into lessons learned or milestones in my personal life (and then blogging about them).  

I don't think blogging will become a normal part of my routine, life just doesn't give me enough time these days.  But I don't want to let it go completely, at least not yet.  There is something therapeutic about organizing the emotions in my brain long enough to write them out.  There is something personal yet universal when those (for a minute) organized emotions and life lessons show insight into God's story in my life.  Really in our lives- because He is always working, hovering just above our physical while deeply intimate in our psychological- never visible with the full understanding that He is right here.

I'm giving myself 10 minutes for this post.  I promised Ellie I would play a game of cards with her before she goes to bed- our card game starts at 9:00 and it's 8:50...

I keep typing and then deleting.  Then sitting here with my hands on the keys, trying to find a starting point for a 10 minute blog post and the minutes are starting to tick by.

I think we would all agree it's been a hard year.  My reasons for it being hard may be different than your reasons but we would still agree, it's been hard.  There's been some beautiful moments this year and there has been some unexplainable anguish- anguish that will always be this side of heaven.  The beauty has been precious- maybe it's preciousness noticed even more because a dark backdrop now hangs behind each moment in a way it did not before (since my 14 year old nephew, Wyatt, went home to heaven on April 4).  The unexplainable anguish, that dark backdrop, is only dark as it hangs towards earth- that same dark backdrop turns to a brilliant white as it approaches the heavenly realm.  Our gaze always needing to look up, our focus on eternity, to realize that what seems so dark here is made right in Heaven.  It's made more than right, it's perfect into eternity.  Looking up also serves as a reminder that no matter how things appear here, we have a God who is sovereignly working out His plan for our good and His glory no matter what.

My ten minutes is up and I've gotta go- a game of cards with my gal is waiting.  It's been nice chatting with you, for just a bit!

P.S. Here's 2 randoms before I end-  

1. We are hoping to go to Hawaii over Thanksgiving...we've had to cancel and rebook the trip 3 times due to trying to take the Hawaii approved Covid test (we settled on the home test by Vault Health).  It will be an absolute miracle if we actually get to go (we are supposed to fly out of Portland early Monday morning)... I'll keep you posted

2. Our Ryan got married to his Danika last month (October 24).  It was a beautiful and heartfelt wedding.  Ryan and Danika dated for 4 years.  Ryan asked her to marry him in August and they were married by October- Danika planned their wedding in a little less than 2 months (your amazing Danika!!).  Matt and I are so happy for them.

Wyatt, Ry, Danika, and my nephew Ben in Mexico last December for our family vacation.  We all love and miss you so much Wyatt.

 

When my heart wants to fear

I spent most of my 20's crippled and broken by fear, in bondage and paralyzed by the past, present, and the what-ifs of the future.  The sturdy mental construction of fear, built around my mind with what felt like an impenetrable wall, was holding me captive.  What I didn't realize, at the time, was that the wall I was building was founded on lies and held together by my misplaced focus.  I was focusing on the here and now, the perceived control I thought I needed, the what-ifs of the future, and the trauma's of things past.  The weight crushed me and for almost 10 years I felt intensely broken.

I've told the story before, in much more detail (to read the story click HERE).  

14 years ago, I was delivered of anxiety attacks and the bondage of fear.  I wish I could say that with my deliverance came a free pass from ever feeling worry or fear again, but it didn't.  Depending on the day, fear is always trying to gain the loudest attention in my mind- always trying to overtake truth.  For me, it is much like a chronic disease that needs to be managed and something the Lord and I work through on an almost daily basis- whom am I going to trust, Him or my own fear.  To date, God is who I have chosen to rest in....but what I've come to realize is that God's rest is only as good as my choice to submit to Him- His peace wins over my worry when I continually choose to focus on Him and walk in His truths.  God's peace will always be offered, no matter what and no matter the situation, but whether I choose to walk in and rest in it is up to me.

My heart wants to fear (to the point of panic), especially in the season we are currently in.  There are moments my heart wants to fear so bad, it aches.  Every logical thought I have is screaming at me that pandemics, especially ones that are airborne and can live on surfaces outside the human body, are still a giant threat no matter how many precautions you take- the threat always looming but at times feels like an overwhelming doom.  But even as the screaming thoughts try to take over, a peace that passes all understanding still has its root.  It is still the truth I consider the most reliable and trustworthy and the one I turn to even over my own perceived 'logic'.....

"Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you.  I do not give to you as the world gives.  Do not let you hearts be troubled and do not be afraid."

John 14:27 NIV

Being mindful and smart about how we move forward each day along with protecting ourselves and other....Absolutely.  Loosing hope and feeling like things are out of control...oh no, no, no.  God is still on the throne, still in control, and still working out all things for our good and His glory, no matter what our circumstances look like...no matter what.