Processing...

It was good for me to write that last post.  It prompted me to really think about what was really bothering me about remembering last years Christmas in Brandon.  For me, that weekend was the beginning of 'the end' for my girls.  That's where the real, physical sicknesses became prevalent and the foreshadowing began for both girls.  I knew it at the time, because Hope and Ashley had not struggled with lung issues before that, and I had always been told that they would die of pneumonia.  I knew it was bad for Hope, as we were driving out there, but when Ashley started throwing up, I knew it was very likely that she would have aspirated (that's when you breath in some of the vomitt into your lungs - not good).  As I cared for the girls that weekend, I knew that this would not be good.  Then tension, anxiety and emotion that comes with that knowledge is very hard to explain.

In fact, the tension and anxiety that come with travel is hard to explain.  For some reason, I need to try.  Picture me getting up at 6am to start the packing, prepping and daily needs (food and meds).  Picture me focusing all my energy on remembering every detail to get through the day and trying to orchestra a perfectly laid out plan of take off and arrival, knowing that if too many things go wrong, my hopes will be dashed.  My hopes were that we would arrive safely, in good humour, with energy to give hugs and visit and love my children as I took time with them before bed, then have energy to visit with my family and relax a bit.  This was my goal, and it may sound simple but good humour does not come easily with a stress level of 200%.

Picture me getting through the day without taking a moment for myself, we get going shortly after Alex gets home from work (I did have respite help too, this is not a one person job).  The drive is only a little stressful with Hope puking and struggling to breath (I remember talking to myself - It is OKAY, it is FINE.)  We arrive, I encourage myself to push a little longer and keep going, I'll be able to rest soon.  Mom and I start unpacking, getting the kids settled, we feel good because we've got the meds done and there's just a little bit more work...and then Ashley pukes...everywhere.  All that work for nothing, and we have to start again. 

My point is that my stress and anxiety were at the max to begin with, and it didn't take much to push me over the edge.  People say that I appear to handle things fine, and I'm trying to explain that I don't.  You can't see what's going on in my head.  I needed to cry so badly that weekend, but I couldn't let myself.  I was so overcome by the stress that all I could do was keep doing what I always do.  Smile (with gritted teeth) and push on!  I wish I had been able to cry because I know I was not approachable with all that stress and tension.  I really needed a hug and a pity party, but I didn't know how to let go and allow that.

Now...I am crying.  And I think that's a good thing.  My family was wonderful that weekend (because I vaguely remember some hugs as I hurried and tried to keep up with 'stuff'), and I wish I had known what I needed then, so I could just stop and let someone in.  I know they would have cried with me and I also know that I was not sending out warm signals.  I would say that the most unapproachable people in your life, are probably the ones that are hurting the most.

So, now I feel better.  I've had a chance to cry over my hurt, and recognize my need for hugs and tears, and my inability to let it happen.  Although, I still think that I might have started screaming and not just crying if I had let myself share my emotion.  This need to have someone understand is so strong.  I hope I've explained well enough, and that perhaps you'll be able to make sense of my rambling. 

It's interesting, after all those years of being 'capable', I find myself avoiding stress with a ten foot pole!  I don't leave the house unless I have to, I instinctively recoil from any added responsibility, and I have to force myself to go get groceries.  I think I'm rebelling!  No more work, says my brain.  I'll go with it for now, because I'm really enjoying time with Brodie and Mira, and that is truly a gift.