Today's Gift

I get the "Today's Gift" daily meditation emails from Hazelden. I usually ignore them, honestly--most of them are too churchy for me. But sometimes one is really helpful, like this one, which seemed quite timely in light of both physical and emotional injuries that are in need of healing.

Stopping, calming, and resting are preconditions for healing. When animals in the forest are wounded they find a place to lie down and rest completely for many days . . . They just rest and get the healing they need.
--Thich Nhat Hanh

We hurt. We suffer. We wrong our loved ones and they do wrong by us. Reaching desperately for an answer will not help us. Pretending we're not hurt doesn't help either. When we are wounded, the wound needs rest in order to heal. So it is with our souls. If we poke at our hurt, pick at the sore, rub it in the dirt of others' opinions, we do not allow it time to heal.

If you've been hurt, accept that. Feel the hurt. Be aware of it. Let it heal. Maybe it would be better if you didn't talk to that person for a while. Maybe you need to let go of the relationship. Maybe you just need some quiet time. Whatever the answer is, find a safe place and allow yourself to heal.

If you're feeling pain, be aware of it. Feel the pain, and then quit picking at the wound. Lie low. Quit fighting. Relax. Give your wounds time and enough rest to heal.

No, Seriously...

We have been on our own for about 2 1/2 weeks now. Hubby is doing well in treatment. I talk to him daily, and he seems to be really getting into the program and practicing lots of new healthy behaviors. He sounds very healthy and honest.

On Sunday, I was getting ready to take Lucy for a walk outside. It was a gorgeous day, maybe 80 degrees, no clouds. I got her ready upstairs, put on shoes that I thought would both be comfortable to walk in and go well with my cute skirt. I then proceeded to slip on the second step and fall down the next 5.

Lucy was scared, and cried for a minute, but she was fine. I was initially writhing in pain and nauseated. At first I thought, "For sure, I've broken my ankle." Then I reconsidered: often, people think their ankle is broken and it's just a bad sprain. After about 10 more minutes though, I knew whichever it was, I had to go the ER.

Luckily I had my phone with me. I got ahold of a friend to take me to the ER, and my neighbor to watch Lucy while we were there. They got me through very quickly (I went to my own hospital) and in fact, I did have 2 fractures on my fibula (the thinner bone of the lower leg). The good news is that it does not need surgery. The bad news: 6 weeks of no weight-bearing.

If you are wondering how I am going to take care of Lucy with one leg, you're on the right track. Also, our house is 3 stories. There's no bathroom upstairs, or I could live up there. And if you're wondering if I can work, no, I can't. I should qualify for short-term disability with this. I can't drive either.

Hubby was sort of distraught at first when I told him, and wanted to come home, but knew after we talked for a bit that the best thing was for him to continue the work he is doing. I don't know why I'm not more stressed than I am about this turn of events, but I guess I've just sort of surrendered to it all. My nanny is still coming during the daytime to help with Lucy, and I'm lining up friends to come in the evenings and on the weekends to help with Lucy. I'm getting around okay between the crutches and the walker. I just can't carry Lucy anywhere. Lucy doesn't really understand why Mommy can't pick her up or play with her as much, but she is settling down a bit. Poor girl.

I guess the good news is that now I'm not working for a while...while I do really need the money, I'll make most of my salary on disability, and am forced to slow down and take care of myself more. People are bringing food...it's good to have friends and family who care.

A Different Path

I am now, temporarily, a single mom.

My husband had a serious relapse after a long series of small relapses. I won't go into the details, but there was plenty of heartache to go around. Finally, he agreed to inpatient treatment, and the recommended program is in a southwestern state. He left on Thursday morning, and will be gone for a minimum of 30 days, and likely 60-90 days in total.

Because of our history, I entered into parenthood with the knowledge that I might be a single parent eventually, but I don't want to be. And if this treatment program goes well and my hubby truly achieves meaningful recovery, then this will be a temporary bump in the road. But in the meanwhile, I'm piecing together a life for Lucy and myself on our own. I have twice as much childcare to pay for, and no personal time at all. Lucy is disrupted--sleeping poorly, wants to be held all the time. She's not really fussy, but normally she can entertain herself for a decent period of time.

I really should find a counselor for myself, and an Al-Anon meeting. But that requires more childcare, which isn't really in the budget. I don't have a large support network in Portland, because I have been focused first on my pregnancy and then with parenting since I moved back here. Also, things have been falling apart for several months, and I've isolated myself. So now I am working on cultivating some support. So far, I've had some luck, thankfully.

Did I mention that the program is very expensive? And we just lost a large chunk of our income by sending hubby to treatment? Thankfully our insurance pays for part of it, but the remaining portion is still staggering. I make a good income, but I don't know if it is enough--I've already had to borrow money to get this started.

I haven't really had much time to think about all that has transpired yet, but I know that is coming soon.

Hey, at least I've lost a little weight! But I'm finding that I have a bit of reflux when I am really stressed. I don't usually have it, and no food ever gets stuck or comes back up, I still never barf. I don't think the band needs to be loosened.

This program is really our only option, though. Addiction is deadly, and I know he will die early without real, meaningful treatment and recovery. I do love him dearly. And I do believe that addicted people are sick, not bad. But that doesn't keep me from hating the behavior, or being angry and hurt, and resentful for being left holding the bag here at home. I guess you could say I'm struggling.

That's my stuff today.