Come What May

     The last couple of weeks may be the hardest time in my entire life. As difficult as it is for me to share, that is just what I'm going to do. I'm willing to do this because I hope that it will make a difference for other people struggling with TBIs, whether it be they themselves, or their loved ones. But, this stuff is HARD.
     So, as I believe I mentioned in my last post, I've started having nightmares. I had been having these terrible dreams for quite a while, but instead of praying to ask Heavenly Father to take them away, instead when I prayed, I said, "Come what may." I figured this was the kind of thing I signed up for when I decided I was going to focus on emotional recovery, and if this is what I needed to work on, then so be it, just help me through it, Father. But, I think after I said "come what may" is when the living nightmare began... The week of torture started when I took the time to really sit down and think about what fears/insecurities/deficits the nightmares were focusing on. Then, the next morning, I finally decided that I had to give up my old facebook. It is something that is really difficult for me in a lot of ways, I'll touch on a few more reasons a little later on, but to me facebook is not just about social media; it's about connections with people. And deleting the old facebook meant saying goodbye, like really goodbye - for good - to EVERYONE who does not have any sort of active role in my life.
     The next day I decided that I needed to write a letter to the professor from last semester who ultimately told me that I wasn't even worth the effort of going to school. I had wanted to write a letter to her for a long time, but it started out being simply too close to the issue with way too much pain. So having stepped away from the situation for a time was good. That was emotionally exhausting as well.
     A while back, I went to my best friend's (from Jr High) homecoming. He was the least Christlike person I had ever seen. Being a brand newly returned missionary, I thought he might like to know. So I emailed him and explained. His response back was so derogatory, so condescending, so critical; he did not take any responsibility, and blamed me for all of it. And he said that I was accusing him of mistakes he made in 8th grade (although I was talking about things he is doing right now). My original email was meant to be something to close the door for me. He opened up the wound so deep again. So I decided that I wanted to respond, defend myself, then tell him not to contact me again. As I went along each argument, it boiled down to this: Other people blame me, accuse me, or hate me for mistakes I made when I had absolutely 100% no control over my actions. I had no judgement, I had no filters, I didn't have the common sense to see if something would hurt someone else. I had NO CONTROL over doing the things I did that were mean, the things that made me "threatening," the things that made all of my friends run away because they didn't know how to deal with me. 
     First mistake about doing that though, was how late I started doing that, because that night did not start out so well for me. I called my mom, crying to tell her what I had just discovered in my point of emotional overload. She calmed me down - or so we thought and we hung up. This was around 11:10 at night. As soon as we got off the phone though, I started bawling. Breathlessly sobbing, all I could do was think. This is about the time I went into a major, major anxiety attack, which means I obviously don't remember everything, but I remember a lot given the fact that everything I thought about continues to bother me - a lot. I was crying because I don't remember anything about my past. At least not the way that you're supposed to have memories. When I'm told stories about myself, or I read in my old journals, I can sometimes remember the events, I know that I was there, but I don't feel it. I can't remember any of the emotions associated with any of the events and quite frankly, it makes me unsure of who I even am. Not only do I not remember a period of time around my accident, but I slowly forget everything. Like right now, I probably only remember the last 6 months of my life. At this point, I hadn't pieced together that I was going through a panic attack, I just thought that I was sobbing and so I didn't see an end to the sobbing - ever. But I called my mom back at either like 11:35 or 11:50. Still sobbing, she couldn't understand a word I was saying. But she talked to me to get me calm enough until 2 in the morning when I was finally able to hang up with her and then go to sleep.
     The next day, I woke up at 6 and couldn't go back to sleep! Which means I was running on low fuel, By this time in the week I am an emotional wall, when thing hit me, yes they'll sink in, but they will definitely take some time. I don't just immediately go bizzark. This is important to note because of what happened this day. I'll write about it next time.
     Remember when I said "come what may, just help me through it"? Well, Heavenly Father sure has shown his hand in millions of ways especially obvious in all that I will write about next time. The other thing that will come up next is the letter I read that had an amazing impact, that made me take a dramatic turn. And holy crap, it's the hardest time of my life, yet while I'm in the middle of it, I'm able to say that it's the best time of my life!!! Say, what?!?! :)