Mommy's Day Out

  I think perhaps one of the strangest parts of a PTSD marriage, or at least the part that I didn't expect, was the loss of old friends, both for Squee and for myself. Granted, as people grow and change, relationships change, but they don't all dissolve. Within a PTSD marriage though, only the strongest friends survive. Sadly, there aren't many who made my cut.

  I am partially to blame for my lack of fulfilling friendships, because for the longest time I was unable to focus on anything but Squee. Then came Siren. I did, shortly after she was born, make a valiant effort to interact with my friends again and realized suddenly that we no longer had certain things in common. I went home disappointed and subsequently avoided every kind hearted invitation for the next two years. Then, Banshee was conceived, and I spent the next nine months of my life praying that I could eat and hold down enough food to sustain us both, no easy feat. After her birth, I was too exhausted to care about friends. And then, four months later, I was pregnant with Echo, who took after Banshee in making me sick. Since her birth almost a year ago, I still have only managed two friend functions, but today that changes.

  This afternoon, thanks to my wonderful sisters in law, I get to spend some time exclusively with other women. This will be the first time in over 8 months that I've had a 'girl's day out', and admittedly I'm nervous. I'm a great pretender, that talent helped me survive high school, but I don't have the energy to pretend anymore, so this is going to be a challenge for me on so many levels.

  Mostly, I'm concerned that those little oddball quirks in my personality that still linger from high school won't be well received, like speaking sarcasm before weighing my words. Among my 'before' friends, such behavior wasn't just accepted, it was encouraged. I also talk too much and usually a little too loud, and when I get flustered or embarrassed it gets worse. I'm in no way refined or delicate, and I'm definitely not super mom. I see my sisters in law as superwomen, and that's no lie. They all work outside the home and keep up with their husbands and kids the way I could only dream of, taking care of them without draining their own energy to nothing. Amazing women, so how do I stack up? And what about their friends?

  Thankfully, as my afternoon started, I was able to relax. Although I sort of stuck out, like the proverbial sore thumb, nobody ever made me feel excluded. Even among my before friends, exclusion was common. I'm slow to warm to new people, but everyone was so wonderfully friendly that it was hard not to. I got to know my sisters in law a little bit better, and I could finally share with someone else how proud I am of my Squee as his wife for how far he's come with therapy. We went to a wonderful dinner (that I'm still drooling over today) at Abuelo's in Chattanooga, with great conversation and interesting stories from moms who have been there, done that, and have the badges to prove it. For my first day out in over 8 months, I would call it a success. 

  Sometimes, being in a PTSD marriage means that your time 'off' is less quantity and more quality, but making the most of what you get helps you appreciate the rest of the time. Focusing on yourself once in a blue moon is encouraged, and necessary even, to help your hero along his journey to healing, and it just might help heal your hurts as well.   

A New Kind of Hope

Yesterday was achingly stressful. Squee had a VA appointment this morning, and so we were able to get Lodging through the VA in Nashville for last night, to attempt to take some of the stress of a three hour drive off of him. It worked, though we did drive through the worst storm either of us has ever been behind the wheel during. It seemed like the rain was being poured out in buckets, and we couldn't see the car in front of us. However, Squee got us to the hotel to check in, and we went up to the room.

  After a stressful start and getting Siren, Banshee and Echo off to my parents' place for the night, we were both exhausted, but it was barely 6, so we went next door to a Mexican restaurant called Las Palmas, (excellent if you're in the area and looking for great service and wonderful food without paying a fortune) and they very nicely sat us in a back corner booth, and I watched Squee begin to visibly relax. As we were waiting for our food, Squee started talking to me with a topic I was a little amazed at. At some point this year, he would like to have a get-together with our friends, all of them that he can manage, and he wants to make it known that we both apologize for us being 'off-grid' for the past few years, and that he wants to start mending relationships. But, if after we explain our reasons for being 'off -grid' were PTSD and our small family exploding into a larger one, if there are any friends who don't want to forgive us or be involved with us any more, good riddance and there's the door. He said that if these friends don't understand that PTSD is just something that affects him, something that he has, and that it doesn't define him, we don't need those friends in our lives after all. This entire idea amazed me, in the greatest way.

  Firstly, because Squee is not a huge get together person. He doesn't do crowds, no matter how much he likes the people, sometimes it's even difficult for him around his own family. Granted, he has a large family, but they are still in our corner and completely supportive. But the size, noise level, and general sense of having people too close keeps him from enjoying himself like he used to. So, for him to suggest a get together of that magnitude, where we are the ones at the center of it all, is wonderful progress.

  Secondly, I feel as though Squee being able to finally say, all in his own time, that PTSD isn't his fault is nothing short of amazing. Our hardest battle has been to keep him from blaming himself for PTSD. For so long now, he's been internalizing his experiences, swallowing his troubles and his pain, but now he's starting to differentiate between who he is and what PTSD does to a person. When I pointed out that last night was the first time he's ever said anything like that before, his face turned just a shade red, and redder still when I told him I was proud of him. But I am proud of him, incredibly so, because he has come so far in such a short time. His resilience is nothing short of miraculous to me.

  Lastly, on our way home today, Squee and I got to talking for the first time in a very, very long time about future career plans. He is considering taking classes or courses to become a chiropractor, something I think he would excel at. The midwife who was with us for the births of all three of our daughters told me that she believed Squee would be an asset in the medical field, and I agree with her completely.

  To be a day that started off as stressful as it did, all it took was a few phrases from my Squee to fill me with a new kind of hope for tomorrow, next week, and the future. I believe what Emily Dickinson said is true, that hope is a thing with feathers, because it certainly has made my heart light and taken a weight off my soul.