This journal entry was written two days before Benjamin’s endoscopy and colonoscopy with biopsies.
I am sitting down to write after what was probably at least an hour of, well to describe it succinctly, emotional unloading. I wailed, moaned, screamed, sobbed, whimpered, groaned and hyper-ventilated. There were moments where I would cry with no tears and scream with no sound. Mouth open wide and unable to close, silently releasing. I would intentionally try to slow down my breathe only for my body to take over and literally shake me with emotion. I had no control. My body writhed in pain. It was not pain of my physical body. It felt like my emotional body could no longer be contained. I had been taken over and I needed to allow this process to unfold. It felt like an untethering from attachments. And in the very moment I processed that idea, my whole state changed. My hectic breathing slowed. My tense body melted into the bed beneath me. My screams turned into moans. The wails into whimpers. On one hand it felt like peaceful surrender and on the other it felt like resignation and defeat.
Now that poses the question, is surrender resignation?
Resignation to the reality that we cannot change the unbearable things in our lives. Resignation to the fact that there is I can never do enough to make it okay. Resignation to the pain and suffering. No, fuck no. I cannot resign to that. How can I resign to that? And that’s when surrender feels like defeat. Because I know that all my fighting will not change anything. The pain will still continue. The suffering will still exist. My resistance does not change that horrible reality. So how do I simply accept it? I do not know how. Yet.
This whole experience caught me completely off guard. I do know that I have felt on the emotional edge the last couple of days. Yesterday I was angry and irritated for no easily apparent reason. Today I have been on the verge of, and in tears multiple times. Nothing had particularly provoked me to stir up any of those feelings. While I knew my body was going through something, I couldn’t put my finger on what it was.
Now, getting curious here, was it that I couldn’t put my finger on it or that I didn’t want to slow down my mind long enough to really look at what was happening inside of me? That’s honestly hard to answer. I think it is a combination of the two.
I think. Now I wonder if I am bs’ing myself. I have felt generally okay recently. I am in a season of more genuine joy, acceptance, presence and peace than I have experienced in years. Maybe because of that I wasn’t looking at the pain that is popping up here and there, asking to be attended to.
Have I been pushing it down? I haven’t felt like I have. If feelings have cropped up I have felt them and even talked about them with others. But was I allowing myself to go deep enough? Was I staying on the surface because I feel like I should be more evolved at this point in my journey? Probably. But then I also think not. Again, it must be a combination. I think I am healing and the journey is feeling easier to bear. I also think that emotions and feelings ebb and flow and I cannot predict what experiences are going to be harder or easier to walk through.
I did have an emotional reaction a few weeks ago when Ben’s GI procedures were put on the calendar, with his kidney surgery following shortly after. We have been hospital free for a few months now and I think I am definitely having some PTSD around going back into those environments again. Now, we are at the hospital and doctors appointments and therapy all the time, but that’s different. It’s a different type of physical and emotional preparation. You are required to show up in a much different way before, during and after, surgeries and even outpatient procedures. And it takes a much different physical and emotional toll on Benjamin. I know I can do it. I am well organized and have a great team in Chris and Heather. I handle stressful situations well and I know in the moment I will get through it just fine. My bodies survival response serves me well in those moments. But my body also knows what is happening underneath the hyper-vigilance and survival hormones rushing through my body. It feels the danger. It feels the fear and anxiety and worry. It feels unsafe.
I don’t want to not feed my son for a day and a half. I don’t want to have to watch him ask for food and have to tell him no. I don’t want to watch him be confused and not understand why I won’t feed him. I don’t want to tell him no when he wants water and then have to take it away from him as he feverishly tries to get some in his mouth. I don’t want to see him with a tube down his throat as he comes out of surgery. I don’t.
But I will. I will because my son needs me. I will because I do not want to see him be in pain long term so I will help him endure short term suffering for hopefully long term reward. I will say I am sorry when he doesn’t understand. I will comfort him when he is in pain. I will show up for him because I will never make him go through any of this horribleness alone.
And that’s just the GI procedure. That doesn’t begin to address his kidney surgery. More feelings for another time.
I am proud of my ability to show up for my son and I absolutely despise that I have to do it in the first place.
Sounds like I have some work to do on the acceptance front. I am 1000% okay with that.
andie