Past vs. Present Truth

I know, I know, a bunch of you are already thinking, "There is no 'past truth' or 'present truth,' there is only TRUTH." No worries, I have not become a relativist, I fully agree. But hear me out. Sometimes past truth and present truth are actually two different things. I came to this realization this March, when I was visiting my mom in the hospital for a few days, in Cincinnati.

Mom was in a lot of distress, as she had broken her hip, and then gotten pneumonia while in the hospital. I came out to visit, and lend a hand. I wanted to make sure my 76 year old father was not staying at the hospital every night, and that he was getting some rest. I also wanted to know what was going on, and make sure my parents knew what was going on. Because I have dealt with significant chronic illness my entire life, I understand the human body and illness better than both parents combined. Plus, I'm effectively the only child, so I just needed to be there.

Over the last few years, things have gotten much better with my parents, to the point that there isn't much I don't tell them anymore. They have come SO far, and have gained my trust in a way they hadn't even gad it before ATI. Most visits go down without incident anymore. But we're still human, we still have issues, and I still have PTSD.

One night, Mom was getting really anxious about not being able to eat. She had developed Thrush, and nothing she ate tasted good. This one night, she was really working herself up, and I suggested she take an anxiety pill, because her worrying about not eating was going to do her more harm than actually not eating. Mom was really wound up and unhappy (with very good reason), and she snapped, "Kathleen, I need you to not suggest I take an anxiety pill right now, because that just makes me more anxious."

I acknowledge, given the situation, there was absolutely nothing unreasonable about Mom's reaction. She had every right to be wound up and upset and snap, if she damn well chose. But I also have PTSD. And I got massively triggered. But I had come to help, and I tried to ignore the flashbacks and brewing panic attack, because that wasn't helpful. And it was my night to stay with Mom. I told them I was going to run out and get dinner, and then Dad could leave. As I was walking out, Mom noticed I wasn't okay, and asked what was wrong. At which point, I could no longer hold it in. The last thing I wanted was to make this a THING. But there was no way to avoid it anymore.

I started crying, and Mom asked what was wrong. So I told her that my PTSD got triggered, and that I used to try and suggest solutions to issues, and I would get  accused of being arrogant and contentious, and sent to my room to beg God to change my hard, rebellious heart. She used to snap at me much as she did this time. And as I was explaining, I said, "I feel really bad because I came here and it's not your fault- well it is your fault because you gave me PTSD, but it's not your fault now because you're not like that anymore." For one thing, it was amazing that I was even able to realize that it both was and was not her fault, at the same time. Past truth, she gave me PTSD. Present truth, she isn't like that, and she wasn't being unreasonable in the moment. It wasn't her fault, in the present. It was an unfortunate result of her past actions.

But what happened next was even more profound- and healing- than me realizing that what is "past true" is not necessarily "present true." My mom began to comfort me and say it was completely okay and understandable, and that I had been a huge help, and didn't need to be upset. Then she said, "Honey, it's okay. I wouldn't have wanted to have me for a mom, either. I was a terrible mother back then."

That was the first time since ATI that I heard my mother openly and clearly admit that she was horrible to me, and was not a good mom. She always said before that she meant well, that she was sorry, but she was doing her best. All true. But to have her just straight up say, with no qualifiers, that she was not a good mom, was healing in a way I couldn't even fathom. She herself was also acknowledging that yes, it was her fault then. She knew it wasn't her fault in the moment, but acknowledged it was, from the past.

Being able to separate past from present truth has been unbelievably helpful in the last few months. Sometimes, people do change. And what is true from the past, isn't necessarily true in the present. It has consequences in the present, sure. But my mom, my past mom, gave me PTSD. That isn't my present mom's fault. Talk about gaining more compassion and grace for someone.

Hopefully, as I move forward in life with PTSD from multiple causes, this can help me. And maybe, it can help someone else too. 

Saying "Yes"

As most of you, if you're reading this, will already know by now, Andy and I got engaged this past Monday, on July 3rd. It wasn't exactly a surprise, but he did manage to surprise me with his exact method of delivery, and his chosen time. But before I go into that, let me back up a bit.

Andy and I met and started dating on February 18th, 2016. Before we had been together a year, we both knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that we were getting married. We had started talking about buying a house, and a vague timeline. We started looking, and bought the house we are now in, in March. It was a new build, so we didn't get to move in until June 1st. I had been planning on a big wedding, but by April, I had already met my max stress capacity for the year, and, well, it was only April. But between Violet's health going up and down (another blog post on that, eventually) and finally losing her on April 5th, my 72 year old mother in Cincinnati breaking her hip and then getting pneumonia, my job steadily increasing in stress, my carpal tunnel surgery...I really just wanted to be settled and done. Do a reception after the fact, with less stress. So we decided to get married in August, in the mountains, in a small, immediate family only ceremony. By June, we had decided on the date- August 3rd.

But one small detail, Andy still hadn't asked. Now, I knew he would ask on July 3rd. To make a long story short, I have a history of spoiling his plans to surprise me. We were talking one day, and I said I thought I knew when he was going to ask. We'd been planning on going to see the Reds play the Rockies on the 3rd since the schedule first came out, so I figured it would be then, and he confirmed. I just didn't know when that day he would ask, but it was going to be hard to surprise me, since I was expecting it at any time that day. He still managed to surprise me.

July 2nd, I went out driving for Lyft, and was out late, but told him I would probably come home about midnight. He said he'd wait up, which he does sometimes, so I didn't think anything of it. So around midnight, when I got another ride request, I texted him I was taking it. And the same for the next two.

I finally walked in around 1:30 in the morning, and called out to him that I was home. The first thing I noticed was the candles, and I thought that was a little odd, and then I saw the roses.

And I suddenly realized...this was it. He came down the steps, and I saw him in a tie, while I was a mess in my workout clothes. I said, "Wow, really?" And he came over and gave me a long hug.

He said a few things, about how much he loved me, and what a great time we've had together, and all our plans.

And then he got down on one knee, and asked me to marry him. Of course, I said yes.

I didn't think he would manage to surprise me, but he did just that. What also took me by surprise was the depth of emotion I felt when I realized it was finally happening. I actually started to tear up, just a little.

All I could think was..."This is actually happening. He is actually asking me to marry him." I knew it was coming, but of course, it's totally different when it actually happens. 

I remember thinking it was never going to happen. That no one would ever ask me to marry them. And then my heart got broken, and I thought, I would never put myself in that situation again. But then I did. And I'm so glad I did, because I got Andy. I met someone who was taken with me from the start, and who wasn't scared by the fact that I was still putting myself back together. A couple times, he even held me while I cried about my heartbreak. He listened to me talk about my childhood, my traumas, my health issues, my Autism, and nothing scared him away. 

We have our issues, but we talk about them. I don't question his commitment to me. I can't believe I get to spend the rest of my life with him. But still, it's scary. It's scary not knowing what will happen. It's scary knowing everything that could happen. But I'm not going to let the fear of what might happen keep me from living my life. I did that for so many years. That's the whole point of a cult- to keep people terrified of what might happen if they leave the bubble. If they dare to live their own lives. It's all about being safe. But life isn't safe. Nothing is safe. We can try and insulate ourselves as much as possible, but at some point, something is going to happen. So do we try and minimize the potential, or live? I've chosen to live. And I'm so glad. 

I can't wait to marry him. 

Balancing the Past and Present

Life is a funny thing. It throws us curveballs we could never see coming, and it pushes us as hard as it can sometimes, to see how much we can take. And sometimes, it also drops really great things in our laps unexpectedly. Sometimes, they're just that- really good things- and other times, they're basically the best thing ever at first, but there's a timer ticking away, somewhere deep inside and indetectable, that is going to blow up in spectacular fashion when we least expect it. Then there are the times we have to just go find what we want, and make it happen. Yes, these thoughts are a little jumbled, but hear me out.

I remember July 1, 2015 with stark clarity. The Josh Duggar scandal had broken a few weeks before, and the constant chatter about ATI in everything surrounding me, had severely triggered my PTSD, launching me into a deep depression. The previous weekend had been rough, but I had just gotten a puppy, and by the time I woke up the morning of the 1st, I realized I hadn't felt depressed since I had gotten her. Waking up is rough for me- I tend to be in fairly severe pain, and moving makes it worse for the first couple hours, so I can probably count the number of times in the last 20+ years I have awakened feeling optimistic and like things were going to go really well. This was one of those mornings.

What I didn't know was that there was a bomb ticking away in the amazing relationship I was in, and it was mere hours from exploding all over me. When he came to my house and broke up with me over his lunch break, I went from feeling like I could take on the entire world, to feeling like the entire world had suddenly collapsed on top of me. I will never forget that feeling. I could go on about everything that followed- I have already talked about some of it here- but I'm not going to.

It's funny how healing and processing work. As much as we would like everything to just heal and tie up in a nice, neat, package, that we can then put aside, and move on, the deepest wounds rarely heal that way. I woke up this morning, feeling an incredible emotional weight and pain. And it was really difficult, knowing I'm in an amazing relationship with the man I'm going to marry, and am very happy in it, feeling like that.

But life isn't about a perfectly linear, neat progression. It isn't about tying up all loose ends, and depositing them behind us, never to bother us again. If that were the case, we wouldn't grow as people. Both the good and the bad would have little impact on us as we lived our lives. One of the biggest keys to living a functional and healthy life, is being able to move forward, and find and create stability and happiness, despite the things that we haven't been able to fully work through.

Since that day two years ago, I have built a whole new life for myself. I made a lot happen, rather than waiting for things to get better. I moved to Denver, without a job. I found one, and it turned out to be very different than what I had been promised, so I quit. With the help of a friend, I found another job, where I stayed for just over a year. I also finally put myself into the dating pool, intentionally. I had never done that before. I went out and met people, and went on a few dates, and through that, I met Andy. Things progressed, and we made plans for the future and bought a house, and I quit my full time job, to be able to do a few things part time, in order to be able to better take care of myself and pursue other interests, such as this blog.

Our life is amazing, and I wouldn't trade it for the world. I wish I could just brush off everything else. But that's not how the human mind works. I think the key is figuring out how to acknowledge and work through the pain of the past, without allowing it to harm the present and future. It's a difficult balance to find, but the important thing is continuously working on finding it, despite the inevitable wobbles.

Part of living a Dauntless life is being brave enough to continue to find joy and build the life we want, and being brave enough to confront the past as needed, too. That's what I strive to do, and as long as I do that, I think I'll be just fine.