Broken Bowl
I feel like I'm a broken bowl.
One of the Pastor's at Paul's memorial talked about how when we are born that God made us into this beautiful bowl. There is a referrence in the Bible ( Isaiah 64:8 "Yet, O Lord, you are our Father. We are the clay, You are the potter; we are all the work of Your hand.") that we are clay and Our Father in Heaven is the potter, thus a bowl. He talked about that over time life cracks and breaks the bowl and God fixes the bowl. The bowl is never perfect again, but will still be useful and hold water.
I know that he was talking about redeption. I know that I am redeemed by Christ through my faith in him. I'm just really sad and have been for quite a while. I'm starting to wonder if this fog will ever lift.
Most people who know me think I'm this super happy person. What they don't know is that I put on a happy face so they can't see "me". I'm so tired all the time from "making happy" for others. The strain is starting to show.
I feel like everybody wants a piece of me. I'm being pulled in a hundred different directions, family, church, life in general. Okay, so that may only be 3, but it FEELS like a hundred.
I guess it all started after Owen was born. My post pardom depression was wicked bad. Not quite "Andrea Yates" bad, but the thought's I had at the time were not pleasant.
A very close and wise friend led me from my darkness and told me that the thoughts were normal and that I wasn't going crazy.
I thought I was a really horrible mother because I didn't have this overwhelming love for my son immediately. It took time to love him, eventhough he was a wonderful baby. I still feel guilty about that. Now, he is the light of my life and I would be as fierce as any wild animal to protect my son.
About a year after Owen was born 9-11 happened. I was traumatized by those images the news kept showing over and over and over. The people jumping out of the windows to their death. It still haunts me to this day. Everytime they showed them I'd cry out, "Noooooo, Don't keep showing that!" It was horrible.
Almost a year later, my MIL Linda got sick from cancer for the third time in 10 years. I love my MIL. She's the best woman I know. I've been quite fortunate to have the PIL's I have. Not only is my husband Fantastic, but his Parents are too!
When she got sick this time, I was staying home with Owen, so I was the only person around to help her with her appointments and recovery. As I've mentioned before on my site, they live around the corner from us, so really the arrangement was ideal. The cancer had settled in her L1 lower lumbar vertibrea.
In January or February, she had the surgery to remove the tumor. It was putting pressure on the spinal cord and she was basically paralized. I remember that she had the surgery on a Sunday morning. The docs said that if they waited until Monday, she'd be paralized for life. They were not able to get the entire mass. It had grown around and in the bone. They did get most of it and would use Chemo for the rest.
She would start to get better, then get really sick again and the docs couldn't figure out what was going wrong, so after another MRI they found that someone had left a staple in the wound. That was July. I waited for her during the second sugery. I remember it was July because I was reading HP#5 for the first time. She came through fine, but would need someone to clean and dress her wound. I said that I'd do it. I was the only one from the family who wasn't working outside of the home and I was just around the corner, so if she needed anything, I could be right there and I was.
Nobody told me that the wound was an open wound, I thought it was closed. So when I saw it for the first time and the nurse showed me how to clean and dress it, I was shocked and a little grossed out. I went home after the nurse showed me and cried and cried. I didn't think I could do it and I knew that I'd need some help. Of course, Dave almost fainted when the nurse showed him the process and Ron (FIL) couldn't look without getting wobbly.
So I didn't have any help, like a rotating schedule. The wound needed to be cleaned, packed and dressed twice a day. I did that for about 10-11 months. Now the wound itself was 5 inches long on the outside and then there was about an inch or two under the skin on either end that I had to dig into and clean and pack it twice a day. It was an uncomfortable process for Linda, no matter how careful I was. She NEVER complained.
After about 5-6 months of doing this for Linda, my sister in law Jean agreed to be trained so that I could get a break. She did it about 10 times. That doesn't sound like alot, but it did help, and no one else was willing/able.
I took care of her for about a year and a half. I'm glad that I did. We have a bond that nothing can break. I took it upon myself to make sure that she got better. I couldn't lose her.
Now 2 1/2 years later she is well and looks fabulous. She went from not being able to walk to bowling in a local league.
All this took it's toll on me mentally. I sank into a deep depression. I didn't want to move off of the couch. I only did just what I had to do. There were times when I had to force myself to take care of Owen. Nothing held any joy anymore. I had no highs, only lows and even lower. I did finally talk to my Pastor for counciling. He told me to go to the doctor and get medicine. That helped, I was on Paxil CR for a little over a year. It saved my life. My friends helped too.
I know that my bowl has many cracks and patch spots on it, but I also know that God can use me as His vessel. Hopefully, one day in the near future, this fog will lift and I'll be back to my jovial old self. Until then, I'm not sure what to do besides "make happy" for others and hope that I can convince myself, while convincing others that everything is fine.
One of the Pastor's at Paul's memorial talked about how when we are born that God made us into this beautiful bowl. There is a referrence in the Bible ( Isaiah 64:8 "Yet, O Lord, you are our Father. We are the clay, You are the potter; we are all the work of Your hand.") that we are clay and Our Father in Heaven is the potter, thus a bowl. He talked about that over time life cracks and breaks the bowl and God fixes the bowl. The bowl is never perfect again, but will still be useful and hold water.
I know that he was talking about redeption. I know that I am redeemed by Christ through my faith in him. I'm just really sad and have been for quite a while. I'm starting to wonder if this fog will ever lift.
Most people who know me think I'm this super happy person. What they don't know is that I put on a happy face so they can't see "me". I'm so tired all the time from "making happy" for others. The strain is starting to show.
I feel like everybody wants a piece of me. I'm being pulled in a hundred different directions, family, church, life in general. Okay, so that may only be 3, but it FEELS like a hundred.
I guess it all started after Owen was born. My post pardom depression was wicked bad. Not quite "Andrea Yates" bad, but the thought's I had at the time were not pleasant.
A very close and wise friend led me from my darkness and told me that the thoughts were normal and that I wasn't going crazy.
I thought I was a really horrible mother because I didn't have this overwhelming love for my son immediately. It took time to love him, eventhough he was a wonderful baby. I still feel guilty about that. Now, he is the light of my life and I would be as fierce as any wild animal to protect my son.
About a year after Owen was born 9-11 happened. I was traumatized by those images the news kept showing over and over and over. The people jumping out of the windows to their death. It still haunts me to this day. Everytime they showed them I'd cry out, "Noooooo, Don't keep showing that!" It was horrible.
Almost a year later, my MIL Linda got sick from cancer for the third time in 10 years. I love my MIL. She's the best woman I know. I've been quite fortunate to have the PIL's I have. Not only is my husband Fantastic, but his Parents are too!
When she got sick this time, I was staying home with Owen, so I was the only person around to help her with her appointments and recovery. As I've mentioned before on my site, they live around the corner from us, so really the arrangement was ideal. The cancer had settled in her L1 lower lumbar vertibrea.
In January or February, she had the surgery to remove the tumor. It was putting pressure on the spinal cord and she was basically paralized. I remember that she had the surgery on a Sunday morning. The docs said that if they waited until Monday, she'd be paralized for life. They were not able to get the entire mass. It had grown around and in the bone. They did get most of it and would use Chemo for the rest.
She would start to get better, then get really sick again and the docs couldn't figure out what was going wrong, so after another MRI they found that someone had left a staple in the wound. That was July. I waited for her during the second sugery. I remember it was July because I was reading HP#5 for the first time. She came through fine, but would need someone to clean and dress her wound. I said that I'd do it. I was the only one from the family who wasn't working outside of the home and I was just around the corner, so if she needed anything, I could be right there and I was.
Nobody told me that the wound was an open wound, I thought it was closed. So when I saw it for the first time and the nurse showed me how to clean and dress it, I was shocked and a little grossed out. I went home after the nurse showed me and cried and cried. I didn't think I could do it and I knew that I'd need some help. Of course, Dave almost fainted when the nurse showed him the process and Ron (FIL) couldn't look without getting wobbly.
So I didn't have any help, like a rotating schedule. The wound needed to be cleaned, packed and dressed twice a day. I did that for about 10-11 months. Now the wound itself was 5 inches long on the outside and then there was about an inch or two under the skin on either end that I had to dig into and clean and pack it twice a day. It was an uncomfortable process for Linda, no matter how careful I was. She NEVER complained.
After about 5-6 months of doing this for Linda, my sister in law Jean agreed to be trained so that I could get a break. She did it about 10 times. That doesn't sound like alot, but it did help, and no one else was willing/able.
I took care of her for about a year and a half. I'm glad that I did. We have a bond that nothing can break. I took it upon myself to make sure that she got better. I couldn't lose her.
Now 2 1/2 years later she is well and looks fabulous. She went from not being able to walk to bowling in a local league.
All this took it's toll on me mentally. I sank into a deep depression. I didn't want to move off of the couch. I only did just what I had to do. There were times when I had to force myself to take care of Owen. Nothing held any joy anymore. I had no highs, only lows and even lower. I did finally talk to my Pastor for counciling. He told me to go to the doctor and get medicine. That helped, I was on Paxil CR for a little over a year. It saved my life. My friends helped too.
I know that my bowl has many cracks and patch spots on it, but I also know that God can use me as His vessel. Hopefully, one day in the near future, this fog will lift and I'll be back to my jovial old self. Until then, I'm not sure what to do besides "make happy" for others and hope that I can convince myself, while convincing others that everything is fine.
posted by M at 7:25 AM
8 Comments:
You just need to remember that you are loved and cared for and that life for us is moving in a positive direction right now.
David, I love you so very much. You are right. As scary as it seems to be going down that different path, I know in my mind and heart that this is a great thing for our family. I thank God everyday that he put you in my life. I need to let you know that more often. Thank you for all you are doing for us. btw: you have clean underwear now! :-)
Whoa.. that was incredibly deep. I have so many things on the tip of my tongue to say but not sure I can express them all. Let's just say I have been there and am often still there.
Try to get out and get some fresh air every day! Hugs friend!
Thanks Martha. I know I need to get out more. It's just so dang hot!. I do feel much better since I got all of that off my chest. I've been having so many feelings that I didn't know what to do with since Paul got sick and died. Kathey seems to be doing ok though. I love text messaging on our phones. That's the easiest way to get in touch with her. Thanks for the visit and encouragement. I will get out more, I promise. :-) love to you and yours! m.
Thanks Misty, and thanks for the visit. btw: Linda doesn't know that I was on Paxil CR or that I was clinically depressesd. I'd kinda like to keep it that way. she won't read the blog, she has no interest in it. and that's ok.
I understand the meaning behind the words and thanks. Sometimes it's just enough to know that someone cares. :-)
Actually, my mum says the same thing about the post natal depression, mind you she does top it by saying even after 33 years she still feels the same way! What a b'arch!! (only joking)
I don't agree at all about the broken bowl - I prefer to think that we are like a potter, and as we move through life we craft ourselves into a our own unique pot. Mind you I'm a filthy heathen, so what do I know?
Sure, we can mold ourselves into what we want. For me, I'm glad that I don't have ultimate control. I don't want that job. Too many headaches. If it's something I can handle, I do. But if there is something too big for me, it's nice to know that I can give it over to my God and in time He will take care of it in His own way. I can let it go. I think He led me to blogging. I've been able to let things go into cyber space and they don't consume me like they used to. Yet again, that's just me. :-)
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