So, I woke up one morning and decided I was perfectly healed from all my past trauma. Then I decided to share all of my perfection with the world so that others could model their journey after mine.
Umm no. Perfect, I am most definitely not. In no way do I view myself as completely healed. Honestly, I am not sure there is such a thing. I view healing as an ever-evolving process. Each stage of life has brought with it different triggers and challenges. The path to writing this book was circuitous and filled with obstacles.
With the publishing of my book just around the corner, I am taking some time to reflect on how I got here. By 'here' I mean how am I about to be a published author. Writing a book has never exactly been a dream of mine. I have always enjoyed writing and journaling, but to write a book filled with intimate thoughts and details then share it with world was not on my 'to-do list'.
So how did I get here? I am glad you asked. Grab some water and take a little hydration break while I regale you with the story of my journey.
In the summer of 2021 I found myself, not for the first time in my 31 years, thrust into the role of caretaker for my mother. My mother, Tammy, suffers from Bi-polar or Manic-Depressive disorder. She spent the majority of my life self-medicating with drugs, alcohol, and sex. My mother's self-medication led to a lot of poor parenting decisions when I was growing up and often left the parent child role reversed.
March 2021: I had just completed a certification in medical coding and billing that allowed for me to make the transition from early childhood educator to a medical coder/biller. I accepted a job at an eye center in Layton Utah. I had chosen to switch careers in hopes of landing a work from home or hybrid position that would help me better support my family financially as well as provide the flexibility needed in the active-duty military world. I was not particularly enthralled by the world of medical coding and billing, but it turned out to be a career that suited my naturally detail oriented brain was and critical thinking skills.
June 2021: My husband had been home from deployment for a while, and I was settling into my job. By June of 2021 life really seemed to be good for our little family. Slowly clouds began to roll in darkening our sunny skies. My sister called to inform me our mother had had a heart attack. During the course of the conversation with my sister I was able to ascertain that my mother was going to have to have surgery to place a stent. This would not be a big deal. However, during that conversation bits and pieces of information came out informing me that my mother's husband was out of town visiting his girlfriend. Well, the part about him visiting his girlfriend came out later. Initially I had just been told he was simply out of town. My mother's husband was a fine upstanding man who shall henceforth and forever be affectionately referred to as 'the drug dealer'.
The drug dealer being out of town would not have mattered if my mother had anyone else who was willing to stay with her in the rat-infested hole of a trailer they were living in. Going home alone after heart surgery was not a good option. So, my sisters and I were left to figure out the best way to take care of her. Since my family were station in Utah and my sisters were there in Texas with my mom, we came up with the solution that my youngest sister would let our mother and middle sister come stay with her and her family in College Station.
This plan was meant to be a small one-week band aid till the drug dealer returned from his vacation and our mother could return home. Things couldn't get any worse, right? Wrong. So very wrong. My middle sister and my mother in the same room can lead to Chernobyl like results on a typical happy day. These were not typical happy circumstances. When our mother does not feel well, she has a tendency to lash out and generally be combative. Our mother has an innate sense of entitlement that can rub anyone the wrong way.
My middle sister is the one out of the three of us that has the least patience for our mother on a good day. Inevitably our mother lashed out and refused to take medication. This behavior led to my sister and our mother having several loud volatile arguments which disrupted the flow to my youngest sister's home. Eventually, my youngest sister had to ask them to leave. The drug dealer returned a few days later to take my mother back to their hole and they lived tumultuously ever after. Well, till September of 2021.
I know it’s long winded, but I promise the rest of the story is worth the wait. Stay tuned for part two.
Comments