Praise God, Father God, I thank you for this PTSD that I have. I hate it, but I know you are with me thru this each and everyday. I haven't been able to say that until just recently, or even thank God for my diagnosis. Father, I beg of your forgiveness, I was too proud to admit that I couldn't whelp my self, that I might need you Lord when the panic attacks happen. But Father, oh I need you, I need you everyday!
Thank you for showing me God that you are in control even when I am not. Thank you for bringing me closer to you. For giving me a hunger for more of you as I face this with you Lord. Thank you for letting me "feel" what some of my students feel when they have their panic and anxiety attacks. Now I get it God.
Where did this come from?
On Oct. 2, 2004, our lives were changed forever. Our middle child, Malorie was with some friends coming home from a Volleyball Tourn. The car ran off the road, overcorrected and rolled several times. Malorie was laughing one moment, and sitting a the right hand of Jesus praising him the next. She will be forever 13 to us. As a mom, I blocked out my grief, I think I just kept going because I had to take care of our two other kids and didn't want to give Bryan something else to worry about. I looked like I was healing on the outside, but on the inside I was crying over how much I missed Mal and over the tragic journey our family was now on every single day.
One year later, in Oct., a student of my, Eddie Meeks was killed instantly in a hit and run by a drunk driver. I can still hear myself telling our students in the school gym what had happened to Eddie. At the same time, I remember thinking, oh my gosh, this is how Malorie's Friends found out about the accident she was in. Again, I went into the "mom mode" and took care of our students and teachers. Not once taking care of myself. For days, I would cry all the way home, wipe the tears and "pretend" I was fine.
The following Aug. after just the 3rd day into school, one of our 7th graders committed suicide. I did not know him but felt such a loss over this. I did know his family from an older sibling I had had. This really took a toll on me. At the funeral home, I could even go up to the casket, I pretended to but didn't look. I had trouble sleeping, I grieved over Gunner, and still was grieving over our Mal.
The following year, in the Spring, a student of mine, Dylan, an 8th grader committed suicide. I got the call at 5:30 in the morning. Oh God, Jesus Jesus Jesus, I remember praying, that was all I could get out as I got ready to meet with our teachers before school that day.
I'll talk more tomorrow about the other events that led up to my diagnosis.
