Serenity can be defined as a state of calmness. I feel calm actually, half of the time, mostly due to vitamins and anti anxiety pills. Writing has been my life line through this process of grief. I know my writing is highly emotional, but I think that is where is the healing lives. In real every day life, I am a roller-coaster of emotion. Calm, happy, sad, fatalistic, devastated, even sometimes capable of humor.
However, I am struggling with the acceptance of things I cannot change. It is a recurring issue. I feel I am being shown what a control freak I am. I am used to being superwoman, going a million miles an hour from the time I get up early to falling into bed late. I can no longer function that way. I try. I fail. Repeat. I have to accept this, I HATE it!
Yesterday was a perfect example. I took mom on errands all morning which included a trip to the house, since dad took his life at the house, it can trigger me all 6 ways to Sunday, depending on the day. Consciously, I didn’t feel upset yesterday while I was there. As we drove around and did things together, the frustration starts building. I feel it. I had to be home by a certain time to take a phone call regarding my son’s diabetes pump and then go to work seven hours.
The old me would have done all of this and more, no problem. Not anymore, halfway through the diabetes call, I cut myself badly with a pair of my son’s Fisker scissors ( how is this possible?) opening the packaging I was being instructed to open. I had a total meltdown due to my finger being cut and the fact that when someone is trying to auditorily guide me through anything, it feels like they are speaking Chinese. When your brain is traumatized, it struggles to communicate with the logical side of the brain anyways.
I started crying hysterically, told her my sob story and that I could not do it. She was so kind! She told me, ” we will have someone meet you to go through the boxes, before your classes. ” I HATE THIS! I have to accept help all the time, I have to accept that I am not high functioning.
Work for has been a great artistic outlet and has been positive to return too. Except when people want to ask specific questions about dad’s suicide. I talk a lot on here about it. I am alone when I write. I still have a major boundary about who I talk too in person about it. People have the best intentions when they are talking to you, but sometimes it comes out wrong, I don’t want to punch anyone, So I refer them to my blog for their answers.
I seek the serenity to accept that my life has changed in ways I hate, my brain seems to have it’s own alternative reality. I told my son, who has several pieces of ‘ Diabetes ‘ jewelry, ” I need one that reads ‘Trauma Brain’. So people talk slow to me, touch me on the shoulder so I know they are there, when I go deep within.” Maybe, it will lead me to a deeper spiritual place, I don’t know.