Like a Phoenix

I always mean to go back and "fix the blog" linking related points together so you can click away and get lost in old posts the way really good blogs do. But I don't have the time. On the Metro North I reached back in the crates and read some of my early posts. The posts usually written in muted lighting by Jason's bedside. The posts I felt like had the little bit of sanity I had left. Jason was bad, real bad back then. I was bad, real bad. I was emotionally drained and lost, terrified and battered. So much has changed from those moments, and so much is better. One would think I could just genuinely embrace the happiness and accept and move forward. But there is something called PTSD. As wonderful as Jason has been doing, I have some form of it. I am delighted by the good, and I thank you God for every moment. I thank you for delivering us from where we have been, for the wisdom of the doctors who have taken care of Jason and for the strength you have given us both. My current state does not in any way minimize my gratitude. It's all I can give after all the damage. There is damage left inside of me that I don't know how to fix or when or if it will go away. There is a fragility I never had before, I think it is a humble feeling That goes beyond anything I have known. 5 months have changed me as a person, physically, mentally and emotionally. 5 long months have taken their toll. The weight loss has helped in some areas, messed up others. You lose weight too fast you lose muscle. I don't even recognize myself anymore. In the first picture I was happy. I was big and my son was healthy and I was happy. I would take every pound back tenfold to have Jason back to normal again. When I think about now, everyone thinks I looK better but on the inside I feel so much worse. You go through constant trauma-well that is not good for you either. Like one of the other mom's said, "we are going to all need counseling after this."

Nothing will ever be the same again.