Everywhere I go, people ask me, “How are you?” “How’s it goin’?” “What’s up?” “How you doin’?” And everywhere I go, I answer, “Fine.” “Good.” “I am doing well.”
But I’m not fine. It isn’t good. And I am NOT doing well.
I’m not fine.
It’s getting to me---the news, the negativity, the shooters, the victims, the deaths, the danger. I have been awake at nights for weeks with nightmares--visions of shoving seven-year-olds out of the classroom windows and screaming at them to run. Horrid, life-like dreams of hiding in the clothes racks with my children at the mall because of some potential threat. My imagination runs wild as I think about the Ruckman boys--did one hear the shot as his brother was killed? Did they try to run? Fight back? Were words exchanged? Who could ever kill his own children? How did someone like that have a career teaching, advising, and counseling 18-20 year old adolescents? My dreams place me in the center of it all--watching. Or sometimes I am too late to save them. Sometimes I am walking through the aftermath trying to collect evidence and find what went wrong.
It isn’t only the nightmares. It is also in real life. My paranoia at Target--looking for exits, hiding spots, trying to locate persons of suspicion or people who may be of help. At Disney on Ice---I don’t care if a child is carrying the bag---all bags should be checked before entering that space. The fact that I will no longer go to the mall. I am done. Until someone in charge can show me a written emergency procedure and can prove that all mall employees have drilled that procedure, I am not going back. I am not safe there. I cannot protect my children there. So it isn’t an option any more.
It isn’t good.
I should not be spacing out in the middle of class because I am running scenario after scenario through my head trying to decide if I could ever sacrifice myself for another---if I could ever allow MY children to grow without a mother just so another mother would never have to lose a child. Could I do it? Would I do it? Forget mentally able-am I PHYSICALLY able? Since when did working out and losing weight become something I felt I needed to do in order to be able to run fast enough and far enough away from danger?
I am NOT doing well.
The normal day to day stress and anxiety that has, I’ll be honest, crippled me before, is no longer on my radar. My stress and anxiety is over safety. My prayers revolve around keeping my family safe from harm and danger. The lack of sleep is getting to be too much. Last week as I was redoing my hair, I realized I never rinsed out the conditioner. I couldn’t remember which parents volunteered to chaperone our field trip. My lesson plans are lackluster and incomplete. I’ve been flying by the seat of my pants at work and at home. My mood is negative, bothered, full of agitation. I can feel my body is tight, rigid. I can’t bring myself to smile, laugh, drink, play, have sex, enjoy anything because I am so afraid of letting my guard down for one second. All it takes is one second for everything to end.
Ihave no closure for this post. My feelings rarely have closure. No message of hope. No lessons to share-perspectives to share- I know all the right things to say. All the right verses to recite. I know. I know. I know. I know the advice you want to offer. I know the prayers you want to send up. I know. Thanks for trying.
I WILL BE OKAY.
Fear is a liar. I will not let fear dictate how to live my life.
“Fear is a Liar” by Zach Williams
-Crazy how riding in the car like every other day turns into a spiritual encounter, and the words you so desperately need to hear come through song on a station that you rarely listen to but just so happened to listen to that day. --and people don’t believe in God? How could you not?!?!
But I’m not fine. It isn’t good. And I am NOT doing well.
I’m not fine.
It’s getting to me---the news, the negativity, the shooters, the victims, the deaths, the danger. I have been awake at nights for weeks with nightmares--visions of shoving seven-year-olds out of the classroom windows and screaming at them to run. Horrid, life-like dreams of hiding in the clothes racks with my children at the mall because of some potential threat. My imagination runs wild as I think about the Ruckman boys--did one hear the shot as his brother was killed? Did they try to run? Fight back? Were words exchanged? Who could ever kill his own children? How did someone like that have a career teaching, advising, and counseling 18-20 year old adolescents? My dreams place me in the center of it all--watching. Or sometimes I am too late to save them. Sometimes I am walking through the aftermath trying to collect evidence and find what went wrong.
It isn’t only the nightmares. It is also in real life. My paranoia at Target--looking for exits, hiding spots, trying to locate persons of suspicion or people who may be of help. At Disney on Ice---I don’t care if a child is carrying the bag---all bags should be checked before entering that space. The fact that I will no longer go to the mall. I am done. Until someone in charge can show me a written emergency procedure and can prove that all mall employees have drilled that procedure, I am not going back. I am not safe there. I cannot protect my children there. So it isn’t an option any more.
It isn’t good.
I should not be spacing out in the middle of class because I am running scenario after scenario through my head trying to decide if I could ever sacrifice myself for another---if I could ever allow MY children to grow without a mother just so another mother would never have to lose a child. Could I do it? Would I do it? Forget mentally able-am I PHYSICALLY able? Since when did working out and losing weight become something I felt I needed to do in order to be able to run fast enough and far enough away from danger?
I am NOT doing well.
The normal day to day stress and anxiety that has, I’ll be honest, crippled me before, is no longer on my radar. My stress and anxiety is over safety. My prayers revolve around keeping my family safe from harm and danger. The lack of sleep is getting to be too much. Last week as I was redoing my hair, I realized I never rinsed out the conditioner. I couldn’t remember which parents volunteered to chaperone our field trip. My lesson plans are lackluster and incomplete. I’ve been flying by the seat of my pants at work and at home. My mood is negative, bothered, full of agitation. I can feel my body is tight, rigid. I can’t bring myself to smile, laugh, drink, play, have sex, enjoy anything because I am so afraid of letting my guard down for one second. All it takes is one second for everything to end.
I
I WILL BE OKAY.
Fear is a liar. I will not let fear dictate how to live my life.
“Fear is a Liar” by Zach Williams
-Crazy how riding in the car like every other day turns into a spiritual encounter, and the words you so desperately need to hear come through song on a station that you rarely listen to but just so happened to listen to that day. --and people don’t believe in God? How could you not?!?!
Comments
Post a Comment