Things that are Mentionable

Random Friday Thoughts

I created this meme five years ago and it popped up in my Facebook memories this morning. At the time, I was beginning to fully embrace talking about feelings—something that had felt shameful for most of my life. Once that dam broke, I then had to figure out what I would say and not say. Being free to speak doesn’t mean that everything needs to be spoken. At least not spoken to everyone.

Right now there are so many layers to my life that if I am asked how I am feeling it feels like I might create a landslide by trying to explain. I mean, where does one even begin when the world is upside down in ways that make no sense and the medical concerns for my husband are far beyond anything we thought we would ever face? And then there are the logistics of being at the hospital with him without actually being there for who knows how many days. And taking care of Weber. And the chickens, ahhh the chickens. I think I have a good home for them. I will remember them fondly. So many feelings.

And then there are the moments when people say something or do something so incredibly kind and either Scott cries or I cry. We usually take turns. In times of crisis, even good things can feel overwhelming. All of this. It is a landslide.

One thing is certain—we are not alone in this. Aside from the many friends and neighbors who care about us, we have apparently raised two of the finest adults on the planet. It is a rather interesting situation that we have found ourselves in. While our daughter lives near us and has been assisting us with everything, my son lives closer to the hospital where Scott will be admitted on Sunday—as does Scott’s brother and his family.

We have so many who have committed to help us this week. For two people who spent our lives caring for others, this creates a lot of feelings. Lots of feelings.

Having said all this, here is my point. We were not a family that talked about deep stuff. We did not express emotions very well. We did not share our struggles, and our children knew nothing about our traumatic pasts. We all just put our hands on the plow and kept moving. We supported each other, yes. But feelings? Nope.

Who we are now is so much different. I am blessed that all of us have worked hard to heal and have become more comfortable with sharing emotions. This week, my adult children provided not only the physical help but also the emotional support we needed. I had conversations with my adult children in which nothing was unmentionable. It was a gift and yes, life became less scary.

My choice to walk into therapy ten years ago forever changed our family. Not that my remarkable adult children could not have figured this all out on their own, but I have always believed that the greatest gift I could give to my children was to heal from the impact of the trauma I experienced. I did not foresee that my children would re-gift that choice back to me during one of the most difficult weeks of my life.

No, we are not alone.