Have you ever been in such a mental state that you felt like your thoughts just wouldn't connect? That's how my brain was functioning, or not functioning, just a few days ago. Like there were two extension cords that needed to be connected but, just as you got the ends close together, you realized there was just no way they were going to actually reach? It's exactly how I felt! I could even see myself straining to connect the two cords and them being just inches apart, alas, never meeting.
At least that's how the week began. And, after the thoughts that overpowered my mind and body just a few days ago, I am amazed at what I've learned from it and how different things are right now. Night and day.
On Monday I couldn't shake the memories of being shoved down from behind three times. One time in particular just kept replaying. In fact, the memory and details became more clear than ever as I tried to work through it. It happened at a fire station and I was carrying my then three month old baby daughter. (She and I talked about this later that day and she, as always, supports me and my blogging.) He had gotten mad at my 23 month old son and ordered “get him out of here”. I stopped the baby's bottle I was giving her, wrapped her in the thick blanket I had carried her inside in (it was December and very cold) and we started out.
That blanket. When I came home for lunch Monday I just had to find that 21 year old blanket. I still have it. I found it and I hugged it. When I went back to work I cried and wished I had taken it with me. When I got home I cried some more and held the blanket and relived it over and over again. He was telling me off and I turned around, looking over my left shoulder, to say something back. It was then that he shoved me from behind.
I never knew. Not until this Monday. I never knew why my baby's head hit the concrete block wall instead of me hitting the floor or wall first. Then I realized. It was because I was turned to the left when he shoved me. I fell forward in a way that her head hit the wall to my right. There was nothing I could do. But that blanket. I'm so thankful it was cold that day. That blanket and probably angel wings. That's what saved her.
Straight to the doctor. I was going to the ER on the other side of town but I didn't have enough gas. With three little boys in tow, I hurried into the doctor's office and told them I fell. I knew that if I told them he had pushed me, he would be arrested and probably fired. I had been turned in for false child abuse charges by my step-son's mother over and over so I was also afraid someone might not believe me and would take all of my babies from me.
I didn't lie. I just didn't tell them how I fell. Thank God she was and is just fine. But it still hurts so much thinking about it. And him? Well he blamed me and said I fell on purpose! Absolutely no way...... I can't imagine how anyone could do something like that. Or why. And it hurts to think he would blame me. Why not just take responsibility for what he did?
What did he do next? Disappeared the next morning. I called his captain to see if he knew where he was. He didn't. And he had no idea that I took my baby girl to the doctor for a head x-ray the day before because of what had happened. The captain didn't know anything had even happened. How could he not tell his co-workers about his daughter? Even if he lied about what really happened, you would think he would have been worried and mentioned it.
11 months. Eleven months prior, the night I found out I was pregnant, we were talking on the phone. Instead of being loving, he told me he was kicking our three younger sons and I out of the house and he and our older son (my step-son) were going to live in the house. The next day he didn't come home.
So what makes this about me? It took me until Tuesday afternoon to start being able to make mental connections again. When I could finally get those plug ends connected, I started realizing something. It's not about all of that stuff anymore. It's not about all the hurt that has happened over the years. It's about me. It's about my healing. Oh I've been getting little hints of that along the way. But it has really been driven home for me the last couple of days.
It's about me. About me being the Kim Parks I'm supposed to be. The God loving, saved, peace seeker He wants me to be. The mom, friend, co-worker, daughter, sister, aunt, sister-in-law or even the person in line at the check out that I'm supposed to be. Living life to the fullest on this earth until He calls me Home.
I can either let this stuff continue getting me down, or I can learn and grow from it. Not saying I won't have anymore struggles. I'm still sleeping with that baby blanket at the moment. But I know I can put it away again soon. I can accept when I have a bad day and know that, once I get through it, the next day will be even better.
One day I won't have to remember all this bad stuff anymore. I won't be triggered. I won't even flinch. And then I will know that I'm just fine.
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