There was a breaking point where I couldn’t think straight, and I needed help. Keeping up the illusion that everything was “fine” was exhausting. Swallowing my pride, I reached out to new friends and neighbors. I spoke up during bible study and asked, begged, for prayers. I put our family on prayer lists. Old friends were pulled closer, and heavily leaned into.
I didn’t expect the response that I received, in negative and positive ways.
People I didn’t expect to care about our family reached out and sat with us in the hospital. They visited my daughter. They contacted patient advocates. They walked me through the rough process of understanding what our new “normal” was going to look like from now on. Those people were few and far between in comparison to the dozens that shut us out. A new reality enveloped us like fog, changing my perception of … well, everything.
We are nowhere near out of the woods. I would love to report to you that everything is fine, we haven’t had any hiccups along the way and we are surrounded by angels who fart $100 bills.
We’re not fine.
We’re tired and broken and healing and sleep deprived.
We’re resentful, we’re cautious, we’re hopeful, we’re determined to get through this as a family.
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