He's doing great! But... what about me?

N continues to thrive and be doing well. It's been such a source of joy for us to see a little bit of normalcy for him. He's eating, playing, smiling, and we are able to go out and do things with some caution. He's doing incredibly well, but... what about me?

This past week, I had a little bit of a scare. While I was driving I experienced some numbness in my limbs and I of course went into panic mode thinking I must be having some kind of heart attack or stroke. A quick phone call to hubby and he assured me that either one was not the case for me. But since then, I've been battling a number of things internally, mentally, physically, emotionally... I found out that my vitamin D level is very low, so that explained the numbness. But what has really shaken me this week is my response to everything that's been going on since then. 

In looking back, when we went through N's first diagnosis, I handled it fine. Almost too fine. It's like I almost didn't connect with the reality of things and that's how I handled it. That's how I got through it. Upon relapse, it was a huge wake up call for me. My almost disassociation with reality came screaming back at me in my face and I had no choice but to grapple with it unrelentlessly and in raw form. I was brought to my knees and I was consumed with so many emotions that I had never experienced in my naive years of life up until that point. 

Through God's grace, we got through it. And we got through it shockingly and miraculously well. But now that everyone is fine, I'm sitting here dealing with the aftermath of the past year. My very low levels of vitamin D of course contributed to the waves of depression and sadness that consumed me at randomness. But following it now are circling bouts of anxiety and panic. 

I'm an easy going person. I generally handle things with a lot of calm. And I like to think I'm pretty logical. If I think back, part of me wonders if my disassociation with reality was my coping mechanism in getting through that first diagnosis. But upon relapse, that really was no longer an option because the reality in front of me was a stunning slap to the face. 

So I've thought to myself all week, why now? Why is it that when things are finally ok, I'm suddenly not? It's hard to confront feelings I think. And despite logic and reason, sometimes you have to take a moment to acknowledge the brokenness inside you before it can be healed. I've dealt with a lot of guilt. Guilt for feeling this way when I should be overflowing with gratitude, guilt that my son is doing so well when others are not, shame for allowing my sadness to take so much control over me. And then the anxiety. 

Anxiety can be both terrifying and paralyzing. And what scared me the most was that I had no idea what was triggering it, and so I sat in more anxiety of when that feeling would come back. It was a vicious, perpetuated cycle. And all of this started just over a week ago when I had the sudden onset of numbness in my arms and legs. The doctor was surprised I was so consumed with worry because she assured me I was healthy, young and other than the vitamin D deficiency, looked perfect to her. So for this past week, I have come to some awakening realizations about myself.

I was feeling anxious. Despite the doctor telling me that I had no reason to worry about anything, I was in a spiraling trap of worry that I couldn't break myself of. What was wrong with me? I was not at peace. Peace is a deeply rooted understanding that God is ultimately in control, and the opposite of that is anxiety. When we have that understanding, it affects the way we see every situation. For me, that peace was completely shaken the moment I thought something was going terribly wrong with my body. Why? Because my peace with God was circumstantial. I was at peace with God because He saved my son. He was merciful to our family. But what I realized was that through this past year, I have come to see life with an underlying fear of what God has in store for me next. What other possible things could fall out from beneath my feet? And so my peace with God was simply circumstantial and therefore vulnerable and shaken to its core. So over the past week, it's been a process of coming to terms with that realization. I need to be at peace because God is in control, and because no matter what the circumstance, no matter how terrible it COULD be, it is what it is because it is the story God has paved for me. And I have to be ok with that. I have to take comfort in that. And the sadness? I was just sad about feeling sad. And that's silly. Because life by nature is sad, stressful and broken. That much should be expected because otherwise, we have nothing to yearn for in heaven. But in sadness about the worldly ways, we can have joy. God does not want us to be weighed down by suffering, but instead to see the joy through it. That is what God delights in.

Is this internal battle for me over? Absolutely not. Worry gets elevated to another level, another dimension, when you're a parent. It's not just about what happens to me, it's about the rippling repercussions of what happens to the little people dependent on me. So I think it's a conscious effort for me to continually think, "God is in control and that's all that matters." But as a true sense of peace has washed over me, I am ok. I have released myself from the burden of worry of what ifs, and I have released myself of the burden of relinquishing control.  

Before any of you begin to worry too much, I will say with complete certainty that I am okay. We all go through the peaks and valleys of life, and sometimes those peaks are especially high and the valleys can get especially low. We all have them at some point in our lives. So I got my big girl pants on now and I'm going to move on stronger. Not because I have to for my boys, which is what I continually tell myself to do, but because I'm called to do that not just as a mother or wife but as a human being.