Since the beginning of this year, I’ve been feeling as though I have been struck dumb. I am still writing in my memoir, at least a little every day. But writing in my blog seems impossible, most days.
There are so many things I want to say, but I can’t seem to find the words. Like: how it feels to walk into our kitchen and see the pamphlets on the table that my husband’s cancer care clinic sent him in the mail. I’m looking at one right now, with these words written across the front in bold print: Radiation Therapy, Your Role in Treatment.
How does it feel to see these reminders of my beloved husband’s health issues lying around the house? I can’t find the words.
Or how do I describe the way I felt when I walked outside with our two dogs a couple of nights ago and heard loud, wild, screaming voices coming from across the street. Was someone being murdered? My mind flashed back to watching the rioters at the U.S. Capitol on January 6, watching as it was happening on our big TV screen, days after learning that my husband has prostate cancer. What was happening now, just a few feet away from our house? Was it another riot, here in our small New Mexico town?
Luckily I had a flashlight in my hand, the kind that shines like an airport beacon. I turned it on and directed the powerful beam toward the direction where the high decibel whooping and hollering was coming from and instantly the revelers quieted down. Apparently it was just some people having a party, not a political riot. Whew!!
Speaking of politics — Oh. My. Goodness. Has it always been this crazy? Thanks to my almost lifelong PTSD, I haven’t watched many news broadcasts or read very many news reports in my life, because there is almost always something in the news that brings back a major trauma memory. However — because of the thirty Neurofeedback treatments that I was blessed to have in 2017, my complex post-traumatic stress disorder has healed to the point where I can now read and watch the news without being triggered into having a major flashback. Now when I see a headline about something horrific that’s similar to my past traumas, I am able to look away, read a different news story, and not dwell on the memories that the traumatic headline has brought to my mind.
But — my goodness! Do you know what it’s like to be my age and to just now be reading and watching news reports on a daily basis, after a lifetime of mostly NOT reading or watching the news? The news is CrAzY!!! Has it always been this insane? Some people tell me yes, some say no.
Maybe my previous ignorance was bliss.
Speaking of the news and traumatic memories, I got the picture at the top of this page from a news article about a part of Highway 1 in California that has recently fallen into the sea, due to heavy downpours of rain and mudslides. This picture looks almost identical to a scene from my early childhood, after an earthquake hit the northern California area where we lived at the time. That earthquake is my first clear memory in life. Welcome to the world, Linda!
Life is amazing. Crazy. Freaky. And sometimes Scary. But today, as I count my many blessings, I can honestly say that I am grateful to be here. I am deeply grateful to the Lord Jesus Christ for the miraculous, marvelous, blessed gift of life.