Accepting Fragility
Growing up with five brothers, being tough was essential. It was also fun. I excelled at it. Physically and emotionally. Cuts and scrapes were no big deal. I could tease with the best of ‘em and sarcasm was my forte.
In my early dating years- and even in the first part of my marriage, I would be told I was a bit too “mean” in my teasing. I needed to tone back my loving but sarcastic wise cracks.
Being tough has been part of my identity for so long, I have had a difficult time accepting my current state of emotions… my current state of being.
I am, in fact, quite fragile. Wounded, scared, lonely, and fragile.
Not without hope. Not without happiness. But not at all operating at capacity.
The last two weeks have included 3 trips to the Emergency Department (one of which where I thought Garrett may be dying) and 6 nights (and counting) in the Pediatric Intensive Care unit.
Two nights of the last 16 I have slept in the same room as my husband. My six year old and my four year old went to my parents house for the night because things were “too hard” here with the medical issues of our three year old… that was six days ago.
I wish I could say this is just a wild crazy month. Unfortunately, this month is a fairly accurate description of normalcy. Garrett’s medical needs are extreme. Bouncing to and from the hospital. Managing medications. Endlessly looking for home health care workers. Training those workers. Navigating family life with nurses in the home. Managing nursing schedules. Covering countless shifts-day and night- when there is not a nurse to help. Living with a constant fear of stupid covid-19. Trying to meet the needs of my other children, and desperately trying to keep them from feeling like they are missing out on life because of Garrett. Zero social life for me. Zero hobbies. Missing out on family gatherings because travel is so difficult. Or just managing Garrett outside of the home is difficult. Barely talking to my husband because the moment there is a break in the medical needs of Garrett (or a nurse arrives) He needs to catch up on work, and work into the wee hours of the morning.
The extremes of our life have taken their toll. And I am fragile. I am raw. And that is okay. I think that realizing it and accepting it is extremely helpful.
I won’t be here forever. I know that. I will be sarcastic and playful again. I will be quick witted and quick thinking. I will be helpful. I will be fun. I will be reliable. I will be strong.
By golly, I will be tough.
But not right now. Right now I am simply pretty fragile. And I know there is beauty this- but let me tell you- when you are used to being “tough” it is a heck of a lot easier to tell others there is beauty in their fragility than it is to accept it in yourself.
