Shards of Glass….

About two months ago my kid broke a glass casserole dish in a rage…and by “broke” I mean they held it up over their heads, and shattered it on the wood floor. I think it was over a cookie. So Mommy protocol…deems everyone off the floor, put shoes on and “Rager Joe” is put outside to “jump it off”. I first picked up the big pieces, did a sweep for the medium and small pieces and then used a wet paper towel to pick wipe away the microscopic. Yet I still managed to lodge one in my foot, my right heel.

So I tweezed what I thought to be “it” , out…and went on my marry way….until a month ago…my heel started to get a needle prick of pain, every time I stepped on it a certain way….now I am pretty sure I still have some glass in my foot. I can’t feel it, and forget it is there until it hurts. I have tried (when I have time to stop to see it it has come to a head and I can get it out…but most of the time, I have life to live and I step on it anyway, most likely pushing that microscopic glass deeper and deeper.

Hello Trauma. I hate you.

We forget about our own “stuff”. Too busy dealing with our kids, our spouses, our friends…until it hits us smack in the face. It hasn’t hit me smack in the face as much as has me in fetal position…wanting to live in the back of my closet….you know when I am not taking care of eight other children.

So update on “things”: They got worse, and then much worse, and then even more badly than I could imagine…and now they have been on that level for about a week now. My child is in an Adult Mental Health Hospital. I have to have a “code” to call or visit them….I drove 8 hours this weekend back and forth for two horrific visits, I am shaken, I am triggered, I am heartbroken…and I have no idea what comes next…so please just keep on sending those prayers.

My “stuff” has been coming up like vomit, unexpected, and leaving me dizzy. When I was 14, one of my best friends took her life, and then her brother 2 years later. It haunted me in my adolescence for a very long time. I am dreaming about Jenny again, and I am yelling and begging her not to leave me…and she is telling me…it hurts to bad to stay….

We are all alive. I am doing my best to keep it that way, even if things are not how I would do them. Safety comes first. I am doing my best to be consistent and therapeutic, I an painting on a smile and dancing with the littles as much as I possibly can, even with this shard of glass in my foot, and one in my heart.

Linds