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.