Getting my hands back to work:
The Spice Rack
Spices
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Finding my Voice
Finding My Voice
I'm finding my voice again.
For the last 6 months I haven't been able to hear it. A freak accident in an 18 wheeler last July nearly cost my life, and I've been trapped and suffocating under a blanket of fear ever since.
I've been paralyzed.
Even the tears would not come.
At first I was just grateful to be alive. My family and friends surrounded me, and I rested while my physical injuries healed. I put on a grateful face, and I shut down the feelings that threatened to swamp me. As the weeks passed, I healed on the outside, all the while shutting down on the inside. In August I tried to return to driving, and while I tamped down the fear while behind the wheel, when I wasn't driving I could barely breathe. Sleep was hard- the nightmares started then. The screeching and grinding of sheet metal being scraped and torn echoed loud in my ears, and the faintest whiff of smoke made me gag. I made one run out to New jersey and back.
My days driving were over. The extra pressure of a bad boss was more than I could handle, and I was defeated. I have never been so overwhelmed. Always before I could take the challenge. I had to. This time I was beaten.
August turned to September, then October. I gave up on driving a truck, although I kept applying for jobs. My accident made me unemployable. Each "thanks-but-no thanks" ate away at what was left of my confidence, and I retreated into my head. I decided to go back to my Culinary passion, but could not even get an interview. Thanksgiving came, and I struggled to be grateful. I finally wrote a little about my accident. I cooked for family I was glad to see.
In December I visited my regular doctor. She gave me anti-depressants. She scheduled an MRI for the pain in my wrist. And then she disappeared. Three weeks of calling to get the results. She said she'd arrange some therapy and a follow up with an orthopedist. Weeks have passed again, and still no word. She doesn't return my calls, but I have lost the ability to fight for what I need. I just shut down more.
New Year's came and went. Getting dressed got harder. I'd gotten season one of a TV show I liked for Christmas. A week passed and I didn't even bother to get dressed. TV and DVDs were my friends, and I barely acknowledged my husband as he watched me sinking. He worried, and I knew it, but I was unable to comfort him. I could not find my voice. I wrapped myself in a blanket and watched _Castle_. Something about it clicked. There was a chink in the wall I'd built, and it hurt. I got the rest of the seasons. I watched, and I found myself laughing. And hurting. I got to season four and I was devastated. I watched The female lead dealing with the same things I was, and instead of being afraid , she confronted. She put in the time with a therapist, and she said the words I couldn't. I felt ashamed, but I could not find my voice. I've always used my fear to drive me, but now I was paralyzed by it. I watched this character put voice to my heartache. I watched her partner fighting for her, and realized my husband was doing the same. Her pain echoed mine. It resonated.
I broke.
I cried.
Sobbed.
I watched her partner fight for her, tell her he loved her.
I heard what my husband had been saying for months.
The tears flood even now, as I write this, because I've finally found a bit of my voice. I'll do the work to heal. I'll find a way to go back to Culinary Arts and be proud of myself for it. I'll get better. I've got something worth fighting for.
My hope is that, like the hero of _Castle_, my family will be patient with me. My grief process isn't done yet. In fact, I think it's barely started. There may be rough days ahead... but there will be better days too.
HERE is my VOICE.
My love to my family who stands along side me in my journey,
and my gratitude to my friends who have reached out.
Marj
I'm finding my voice again.
For the last 6 months I haven't been able to hear it. A freak accident in an 18 wheeler last July nearly cost my life, and I've been trapped and suffocating under a blanket of fear ever since.
I've been paralyzed.
Even the tears would not come.
At first I was just grateful to be alive. My family and friends surrounded me, and I rested while my physical injuries healed. I put on a grateful face, and I shut down the feelings that threatened to swamp me. As the weeks passed, I healed on the outside, all the while shutting down on the inside. In August I tried to return to driving, and while I tamped down the fear while behind the wheel, when I wasn't driving I could barely breathe. Sleep was hard- the nightmares started then. The screeching and grinding of sheet metal being scraped and torn echoed loud in my ears, and the faintest whiff of smoke made me gag. I made one run out to New jersey and back.
My days driving were over. The extra pressure of a bad boss was more than I could handle, and I was defeated. I have never been so overwhelmed. Always before I could take the challenge. I had to. This time I was beaten.
August turned to September, then October. I gave up on driving a truck, although I kept applying for jobs. My accident made me unemployable. Each "thanks-but-no thanks" ate away at what was left of my confidence, and I retreated into my head. I decided to go back to my Culinary passion, but could not even get an interview. Thanksgiving came, and I struggled to be grateful. I finally wrote a little about my accident. I cooked for family I was glad to see.
In December I visited my regular doctor. She gave me anti-depressants. She scheduled an MRI for the pain in my wrist. And then she disappeared. Three weeks of calling to get the results. She said she'd arrange some therapy and a follow up with an orthopedist. Weeks have passed again, and still no word. She doesn't return my calls, but I have lost the ability to fight for what I need. I just shut down more.
New Year's came and went. Getting dressed got harder. I'd gotten season one of a TV show I liked for Christmas. A week passed and I didn't even bother to get dressed. TV and DVDs were my friends, and I barely acknowledged my husband as he watched me sinking. He worried, and I knew it, but I was unable to comfort him. I could not find my voice. I wrapped myself in a blanket and watched _Castle_. Something about it clicked. There was a chink in the wall I'd built, and it hurt. I got the rest of the seasons. I watched, and I found myself laughing. And hurting. I got to season four and I was devastated. I watched The female lead dealing with the same things I was, and instead of being afraid , she confronted. She put in the time with a therapist, and she said the words I couldn't. I felt ashamed, but I could not find my voice. I've always used my fear to drive me, but now I was paralyzed by it. I watched this character put voice to my heartache. I watched her partner fighting for her, and realized my husband was doing the same. Her pain echoed mine. It resonated.
I broke.
I cried.
Sobbed.
I watched her partner fight for her, tell her he loved her.
I heard what my husband had been saying for months.
The tears flood even now, as I write this, because I've finally found a bit of my voice. I'll do the work to heal. I'll find a way to go back to Culinary Arts and be proud of myself for it. I'll get better. I've got something worth fighting for.
My hope is that, like the hero of _Castle_, my family will be patient with me. My grief process isn't done yet. In fact, I think it's barely started. There may be rough days ahead... but there will be better days too.
HERE is my VOICE.
My love to my family who stands along side me in my journey,
and my gratitude to my friends who have reached out.
Marj
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