T.R.A.U.M.A

After experiencing t r a u m a in 2010 and now again living through t r a u m a, with all of you as we navigate each day in this pandemic, I have been pondering and wondering and thinking about what t r a u m a has meant to me.

To me, trauma is being stuck. Trauma is feeling lost. Trauma is being fearful. Trauma is feeling lonely. Trauma is feeling forgotten. Trauma is feeling sad. Trauma is experiencing vertigo. Trauma is feeling like the darkness is closing in. Trauma is being separated from my newborn. Trauma is absence from my Olav for such a long period of time. Trauma is feeling exhausted. all. the. time. Trauma is disappointment. Trauma is not being able to process my circumstances because I had to be strong for those who should have carried me. Trauma is dark. Trauma is difficult. Trauma is messy. Trauma is loud. Trauma can be overcome.

The year before my husband and I got together, my family faced a huge curve ball. The effects are still playing out today and this incident changed the course of our newly married life. We lived under great expectations, great sacrifice, great giving and great strain. We put our needs, wants, desires and dreams on the back burner, which has often burnt out, and we lived day to day holding on for things to change.

I fell pregnant early in 2010, and just like 2020, it was a year of uncertainty, the unknown and to a degree, insecurity for us. As I hopped from doctor to doctor on crutches, and then jumped into bed for the majority of my pregnancy, my dream of being ‘radiant and glowing’ as a pregnant woman, with a beautiful bump and perfect birth became an after-thought. It was such a lonely time as I spent so much time in bed. Not able to work alongside my teacher friends at the pre-school where I was teaching Grade R, not able to engage in conversations with my hubby about all we hoped to be as parents, not able to set up and purchase goods for our nursery. It was so very lonely. And on top of all of that not knowing what was going in my body was so dark and unsettling too.

Finally after my emergency caesar and 5 days later my emergency heart surgery, I could allow myself to rest, to begin to heal, to begin to get strong again. The blessing of a private ward was also a curse as I spent most of the time alone and had no company to enjoy (and yes I realise company in a hospital ward can be a pain too) It became my mission to be as strong as I could be before getting discharged so that I could be a mom and wife to my favourite 2 people. After 4 weeks, I was hoping to be discharged on the condition that I would come in every 6 hours to receive my antibiotic drip. The news came. I had to stay. I was devastated and disappointed. What did change though, was my daily moments. Instead of showering and again donning pajamas each morning, I got dressed – yes, real clothes – and real shoes. My morning routine of physio exercises and my daily walk crossing floors 3 – 6 and strengthening my legs with the flights of stairs, opened my eyes to another reality. I greeted new faces and was greeted in return. I learned of and saw other patients and was able to pray for them and the circumstances they were facing. I got to see another view and enjoy another perspective.

6 weeks in hospital in a straight stint changes you. Did you know there is such a thing as ‘hospital sickness’? It is when you become so used to being waited on, and cared for, you can forget how to take care of yourself. I am so grateful I didn’t have to add that to my list of diagnoses from that year! My discharge day was special. Olav brought my rings and placed them back on my left hand ring finger, and the ‘in sickness and health’ promise we made overwhelmed my heart. We moved ALL our daughters goods back home, and in December 2010 started life as a family of 3, all under the same roof!

As these last 11 years have gone by, I have often been so fearful of my new normal. My heart beats to the sound of a prosthetic heart valve, and stopping breathing for a short moment trapped me in a capsule of fear. For the first many years after this trauma I ensured I had my sunglasses, a water bottle and an apple with me. Sunglasses to shield my eyes from the glare of light which they can’t take after the mini-strokes I endured, a water bottle to ensure I was always hydrated, and an apple to never allow my low blood pressure to dip even more. As the days rolled on and I felt stronger and more sure in myself and I grew more and more capable in my new normal, I began to not obsess with these things, and yet, if you know me well, you’ll know I always have my sunglasses. I always have a water bottle and I always have a snack in my bag. This reminded me of what we are experiencing in this Covid pandemic right now. Here in South Africa, we are about to have the third wave, and yet because we have become so accustomed to this new normal way of living, we are dropping our guard and letting things slip. For me, the fear of something going wrong developed into a coping mechanism of preventing something from going wrong. This is an amazing metamorphosis, however, it also meant that I was always alert for prevention rather than cure.

My husband and I have, unknowingly, adopted this mind-set of prevention rather than cure to almost every area of our lives. We would choose a less complicated activity to set up for our daughter to engage in, rather than one that would make a huge mess, so that we wouldn’t have a disaster to deal with later. We would always have spare clothes in case she messed, so we didn’t have to leave her muddy or soaked. We wouldn’t let her freely climb things, in case she would hurt herself. We would consider all angles of every option and choose the path of least resistance or least difficulty, in case we couldn’t see it through or rather couldn’t push through to the end. Trauma is exhausting. all. the. time. and in survival mode, we kept choosing that path, rather than the path of sonship. We had to survive. We had to get through. We had no net to catch us if something went wrong, so we had to do the most logical option. The one with no pit falls.

Trauma and any life moment can also be quite funny occurrences. People flock to your bed side, make meals for you when you get home and then never call again. I call them trauma friends and we all have trauma friends and we all have life friends. Both are so very needed, otherwise we personally may have gone hungry after bringing our 6 week old daughter home together for the first time that December. The long haul is what I’m after now though. Trauma changed me and I wanna live life with people, not just be on a list to make meals. I want to journey life with people, not only hear about things when the poop has hit the fan or the champagne is ready to be popped. (on that note, I don’t like champagne, so I might not even come running haha). I want to adventure and dream and love and laugh and cry and be disappointed and struggle through things with, and LIVE the REAL LIFE with people. I am tired of window dressing it.

This prevention rather than cure is pretty much how we have lived out majority of the past 10,5 years. We have survived, made it through the day, kept our daughter alive, only had heated discussions behind closed doors and hoped the bags under our eyes from exhaustion weren’t noticeable. We had no space to create, no space to imagine, no space to fly.

Every path we have taken along this journey has been another stepping stone across the dark, dreary sea of trauma. I have maintained best friendships that now stretch across the seas. We have made incomparable new friends which led to Cianna meeting her best friend. We joined new spiritual homes and I not only found a family chiropractor, but a soul sister of a friend, as well as a couple who ignited a love for the word of God in me like never before. We found a love for camping and experienced a divine moment from heaven, when we were introduced to a family under the backdrop of the Drakensberg at the Mahai camp site. Family have become friends which is the best type of family to have. We met a couple who are ‘ something else’ and their maturity and care has pulled us through some muddy times! We have been encouraged by friends who have known us for years and are always up for a meal together.

It’s been a journey. Its been a road. It’s been an adventure.

Two years ago we started to voice our dreams again. We started to talk about what makes us tick. We started discussing what we were made for. We started knocking on doors of opportunity and continued praying for opportunities to worship the Lord. Because we were made to worship Him, and doing what makes us come alive is worshipping Him in the truest sense! And a new stepping stone started appearing and as we jumped to it, we’ve been overwhelmed with the sea of disappointment, the sea of being forgotten and the sea of being stuck! So we started surviving and striving again and burnt out the back burner of dreams, and hopes and desires.

And then Jesus broke in. He pulled me onto his lap after I was hit with a huge disappointment and He whispered my name and He reminded me of my value and my worth and my identity. He split the sea of being forgotten and reminded me of who I am. He split the sea of being stuck and reminded me that the nations are his footstool, and I am His child. He removed my disappointment and filled me again with hope! He has renewed my tenacity. I have faced the wind head on, my roots have grown deep and strong, and I am alive, completely, fully and wholly alive in HIM.

For what feels like the first time in 11 years, us as a family have embarked on new adventures, we have taken risks, we have chosen life and sonship, rather than survival. We have ditched prevention to perhaps be faced with finding a cure. And we are making great decisions for today and for our future.

I have surrendered and chosen to sit on His lap for now. To enjoy His presence and to know His love. I have chosen sonship over survival. I am not there yet, but trauma is being overcome!!