Scent of Cedar *
Well-Known Member
husband and I both developed a case of shingles after an extended period of difficult child-related stress. As I understand it, we harbor the virus if we've ever been exposed to chicken pox.
Under stress, the virus can overwhelm our immune systems.
We both developed the rashy part, but not the lesions. It was very painful. We refused to believe it could be shingles because we both developed the symptoms around the same time.
But it was.
In a way Kathy, this is a blessing. A warning, pure and simple, that you need to learn to take care of yourself, to find some way to cope with the hellishness of that place we are in, where the enemy is your own child.
In a normal situation, you define the problem, make changes to your life and schedule to protect yourself, and fight the good fight. When it is your own child who is...I still don't know what to call it, after all these years. Not the enemy, I don't feel that way...but the vehicle of pain, maybe. The vehicle of uncertainty, of disbelief and self condemnation, of outright fear, of shock and awe campaigns ~ what in the world do we do, then?
That is where the PTSD comes in for parents, I think.
Not so much dealing with the physical stuff. It's that internal conflict, that sense of FOG.
Just lately Kathy, I've begun learning about the cold-eyed choice, the determined intent, to survive. I am reclaiming my personhood. It has been so many years since I have been a person. I have been instead, a traumatized mother, a victim of difficult child children whom I love to distraction, someone more concerned about her grown kids than the responsibility, the sacred responsibility, of living and cherishing her own life.
I'm so sorry, Kathy. Given the similarity of symptoms among all our kids, we can understand that this is not, and never was, about our parenting. There is a beginning kind of strength in that knowledge.
You are strong enough to do this, Kathy. Your husband has been right there with you through this. In that, we have both been so fortunate.
Holding you in my thoughts and prayers, Kathy. You will make it to the other side of this. There will come a day when you realize you have been able to take joy in something ~ a sunset, a butterfly, the feel of the breeze....
Everything is going to be alright, Kathy. We do come to a place, not of acceptance really, but of joyous, determined survival.
Cedar
Under stress, the virus can overwhelm our immune systems.
We both developed the rashy part, but not the lesions. It was very painful. We refused to believe it could be shingles because we both developed the symptoms around the same time.
But it was.
In a way Kathy, this is a blessing. A warning, pure and simple, that you need to learn to take care of yourself, to find some way to cope with the hellishness of that place we are in, where the enemy is your own child.
In a normal situation, you define the problem, make changes to your life and schedule to protect yourself, and fight the good fight. When it is your own child who is...I still don't know what to call it, after all these years. Not the enemy, I don't feel that way...but the vehicle of pain, maybe. The vehicle of uncertainty, of disbelief and self condemnation, of outright fear, of shock and awe campaigns ~ what in the world do we do, then?
That is where the PTSD comes in for parents, I think.
Not so much dealing with the physical stuff. It's that internal conflict, that sense of FOG.
Just lately Kathy, I've begun learning about the cold-eyed choice, the determined intent, to survive. I am reclaiming my personhood. It has been so many years since I have been a person. I have been instead, a traumatized mother, a victim of difficult child children whom I love to distraction, someone more concerned about her grown kids than the responsibility, the sacred responsibility, of living and cherishing her own life.
I'm so sorry, Kathy. Given the similarity of symptoms among all our kids, we can understand that this is not, and never was, about our parenting. There is a beginning kind of strength in that knowledge.
You are strong enough to do this, Kathy. Your husband has been right there with you through this. In that, we have both been so fortunate.
Holding you in my thoughts and prayers, Kathy. You will make it to the other side of this. There will come a day when you realize you have been able to take joy in something ~ a sunset, a butterfly, the feel of the breeze....
Everything is going to be alright, Kathy. We do come to a place, not of acceptance really, but of joyous, determined survival.
Cedar
