the Difference of a Year...
One year ago today I was traumatized in such a way that I was forever changed. I helplessly watched as my daughter was traumatized by someone who should protect her every bit as much as I do. That trauma, this day shook her very core. By extension the events of this day traumatized my son. And so began what I have come to term "the season of hell".
One year ago today I surprised myself with my resilience. When the police left, when the neighbors left, when the family members went home, when there was a loll in all our friends calling, there was just the three of us. The three of us huddled in a heap on the living room floor, raw with emotion. I looked at my beautiful daughter, eyes swollen from hours of tears. I looked at my adorable son, the panic of not understanding written all over his face. The collective trauma and devastation resonated all around us...so we disappeared.
One year ago tonight I sat by the side of a pool, biting back tears as I watched my children play. They went through the motions of two kids playing in a pool but there were no smiles on their faces. There was no laughter from them. They were shells of children. I took them to the arcade "maybe playing some of their favorite games...". A few forced smiles but no real laughter. As I watched them sleep, eyes fluttering from who only knows what kind of dreams, the trauma started to set in.
In the last year I have learned who my real friends are. This is a time when you learn which friendships are true. This is a time when you learn which friendships have run their course as well. This is a time when you find blessing in the most unlikely of friends. I don't think I want to recount this day or those next two months. Logistically I can recount the events, but I still can't say anything about the devastation other than it was one of the worst kinds of pain.
In the last year I would think about the self esteem and confidence that my daughter once had. It hurt to see that missing. It hurt to see the ways my son lashed out in anger. It hurt to keep everyone at arms length, never letting anyone too close, constantly on guard "who can I trust now?"
Now I am happier than I have been in my adult life. I see a confidence and poise in my daughter that I have missed so much. I see excitement and joy in her eyes that were missing for so long. I see a new strength in her, in her character, in her soul. I see my son, no longer angry and lashing out, but treating all those around him with love and respect. One of his teachers told me the other day that he was one of the kindest kids she has ever had...rambunctious, but very sweet and kind. I woke up very early this morning, not because he had had another night terror, but because he crawled into my bed, wrapped his arms around me and settled back into a peaceful sleep.
I am proud of the life we have rebuilt. I am proud of the life we are building. We are joy, we are laughter, we have ourselves, we have each other. We are the power of three. I am looking at the next year not with devastation and fear but with strength and courage. Knowing that we will weather the bitter and embrace the joy! The difference a year can make...peace.
One year ago today I surprised myself with my resilience. When the police left, when the neighbors left, when the family members went home, when there was a loll in all our friends calling, there was just the three of us. The three of us huddled in a heap on the living room floor, raw with emotion. I looked at my beautiful daughter, eyes swollen from hours of tears. I looked at my adorable son, the panic of not understanding written all over his face. The collective trauma and devastation resonated all around us...so we disappeared.
One year ago tonight I sat by the side of a pool, biting back tears as I watched my children play. They went through the motions of two kids playing in a pool but there were no smiles on their faces. There was no laughter from them. They were shells of children. I took them to the arcade "maybe playing some of their favorite games...". A few forced smiles but no real laughter. As I watched them sleep, eyes fluttering from who only knows what kind of dreams, the trauma started to set in.
In the last year I have learned who my real friends are. This is a time when you learn which friendships are true. This is a time when you learn which friendships have run their course as well. This is a time when you find blessing in the most unlikely of friends. I don't think I want to recount this day or those next two months. Logistically I can recount the events, but I still can't say anything about the devastation other than it was one of the worst kinds of pain.
In the last year I would think about the self esteem and confidence that my daughter once had. It hurt to see that missing. It hurt to see the ways my son lashed out in anger. It hurt to keep everyone at arms length, never letting anyone too close, constantly on guard "who can I trust now?"
Now I am happier than I have been in my adult life. I see a confidence and poise in my daughter that I have missed so much. I see excitement and joy in her eyes that were missing for so long. I see a new strength in her, in her character, in her soul. I see my son, no longer angry and lashing out, but treating all those around him with love and respect. One of his teachers told me the other day that he was one of the kindest kids she has ever had...rambunctious, but very sweet and kind. I woke up very early this morning, not because he had had another night terror, but because he crawled into my bed, wrapped his arms around me and settled back into a peaceful sleep.
I am proud of the life we have rebuilt. I am proud of the life we are building. We are joy, we are laughter, we have ourselves, we have each other. We are the power of three. I am looking at the next year not with devastation and fear but with strength and courage. Knowing that we will weather the bitter and embrace the joy! The difference a year can make...peace.