Finding Your Way…
When Tragedy Strikes
Kristi Fowler, LMFT
HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN?
Finding Your Way When Tragedy Strikes
Every effort has been made to obtain acknowledgements for the quoted material in this book. If any required acknowledgements have been omitted, or any rights overlooked, it is unintentional. Please notify the publisher of any omission and it will be rectified in future editions.
© 2011 Kristi Fowler
ISBN 978-0-9840304-2-2
All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.
Kristi Fowler, LMFT, LLC
140 River Vista Place
Twin Falls, Idaho 83301
Dedicated to those of you who experienced tragedy, searching to find a way through…
Acknowledgements
Author’s Note
Introduction
Finding My Way
Finding Your Way in a Tsunami
Finding Your Way Through the Trauma Maze
Finding YOUR Way
Finding Your Way with the Injured
Finding Your Way with Non-Injured Children
Finding Your Way Between the Differences in Men and Women
Finding Your Way Through the Grief of Death
Finding Your Way to a “New Normal”
This journey starts first with my family – my parents Jim and Jean and my sisters Kim and Jamie. Because of the story we have lived, the counsel offered in this book is very real, very personal and very passionate. Thank you, family, for letting me share with the world our family traumas so that others might be helped. To each of you…
Mom… you have the biggest heart of anyone I know. You are very giving, compassionate and loving. You are constantly volunteering. I will never forget how you went back to work full-time after being a “stay-at-home-Mom” for several years (since we were born) to help pay for the medical bills our family had accumulated. You are truly a person of sacrifice, willing to give what you have to make all of our lives better. You wanted all of us girls to get what you did not. You made sure we went to college and received an education. I admire your faith and how you have leaned on it to get you through tough times. I love you tremendously.
Dad… you have always been my encourager. You encouraged me to go beyond my limitations even when life’s events seemed to indicate otherwise. You are someone who would give the shirt off his back in order to help someone out. The amount of time, money and labor you have given to people is staggering. But that’s what you do and I appreciate it. You have owned your own business all these years and survived through the various tragedies that have come our way. I love your direct and honest approach. Your work ethic is second to none.
To my sisters... There really is something to sisterhood. We have gone through so much together. I appreciate our friendship tremendously, even during those times I didn’t like hearing what you had to say. I know that you both love me and I hope you know how much I love the both of you.
Kim… you are a true testament to overcoming the odds. You undertook the challenge of finding a “new normal” for your life and did so with tremendous success. You graduated from high school and college after being told you would never be able. You are a motivational speaker invited to speak at university campuses and other organizations regarding the grueling journey from burn victim to burn survivor. You volunteer at countless causes for burn organizations, including serving on national and regional boards. You volunteer at your church, raise money for kids to attend burn camps, and do re-entry activities for kids going back to school after burn tragedies. You do all of this while being a wonderful mother to two great kids. I admire you as my sister, but also as a woman. Your love, perseverance and compassion make you an amazing person.
Jamie… you are much the same way. You have pushed yourself to the top of your profession, earning a PhD and serving as a college professor. You are an athletic trainer as well, helping athletes reach their maximum potential. You, too, volunteer at your church and in your community, carrying on the tradition set forth by our parents. You are a wonderful wife and mother of three girls. I admire your inner drive and healthiness which inspires all the members of our family.
A very special thanks to Steve and Nancy Fowler for their editing that contributed greatly to the final product. Your feedback and insights were spot on and I am grateful for your intricate care in helping me with this project.
Several individuals contributed to the process of reviewing and offering suggestions to improve the manuscript – Debbie Lund, Becky Elam, Dan and Sonja Willie, Gary and Jeannie Wolverton, Lonette Brown, Lezlie Matthews, Trudy Dane, Monica Matthews, Dyne Peich, Con Paulos, and Bryan Matsouka. My gratitude extends to all of you for taking the time to invest yourself in the pages of this book. I appreciate your encouragement and thoughtfulness as you took great care in helping the process.
A very special thank you goes to my clients for whom I was inspired to write this book. Thank you for the privilege of entering your “story” and working together to help you get the most out of this life.
To my kids, Cody and Kendra… As your Mom, I hope to give you as much as you have given me. You are both terrific people, full of potential and I could not be more proud.
And lastly to my husband, Sam… You are the most loving and patient man I know. I never could have done this without you.
Kristi Fowler
Twin Falls, Idaho
I come to you through the pages of this book as a counselor who has been privileged to have sat with many clients going through tragedy. That, combined with my own experiences of trauma – and those of my family – lead me to give you an honest portrayal of life in the wake of tragedy. A couple of things about that… First, it may hit too close to home for you if you are still reeling from your own personal tragedy. I completely understand. Feel free to skip to tangible hints and helps when you cannot take reading a story that hits close to home.
Second, I want to define two words you will hear throughout the book. I mention the idea of the “injured.” What I mean by “injured” are the people who have been afflicted physically as a result of a tragedy. They were the ones physically “hurt.” There are several different instances of what that could mean… illness, disease, broken bones and body, burns, etc. It also entails the concepts of those stricken with a diagnosis or the revelation of a genetic defect. It also includes those who have suffered abuse or a violent assault on their person. If you could imagine all of the possible ways a person could be “injured,” that is what I mean to include in that word.
The other word is “non-injured.” These are the people affected by the trauma, but have no physical afflictions as a result. They weren’t the ones “hurt.” They don’t have the physical scars, wounds, broken bones, disease, illness, abuse, etc. However, as you will read, their experience of tragedy is just as profound.
Thirdly, I am going to share about my feelings/actions/thoughts and those of my clients, parents and siblings. When it comes to my family it is important to note, these are my memories. I am incredibly grateful for my family. We lived our tragedies together. We did the best we knew how. We did some things well and other things not so well. We have been through quite a bit and enjoy our days now as people who have seen “the other side” of tragedy. It behooves me to tell you the honest truth about that with which we struggled in hopes that you can avoid some of the pitfalls we discovered.
And so… read this knowing that there is “the other side” and our family has been blessed to find its way there. I bring to light our mistakes or regrets for no other reason than a convictional belief that in doing so, you and yours can be helped. For the Calman (my maiden name) clan, that’s what it has always been about… helping others. And so, I hope this book helps you. We would love nothing more than nudging you toward a journey that results in redemption and meaning. And I hope you get to experience that “better story” that I have come to enjoy and appreciate with my family.
Because… you deserve it.
Kristi (Calman) Fowler
July 2011
Have you ever stood in the ocean marveling at the scenery, when all of a sudden… a wave knocks you off your feet?
You get soaked, you fall backwards and you desperately hold your breath as the wave passes over you. As you struggle to get back on your feet and regain your balance, you wipe your eyes just in time to see… the next wave coming at you.
Before you know it, you are on your back again, fighting to find your way to the surface. You gulped in a mouthful of salty seawater on the way down and you feel as if this wave has you “pinned.” Panic starts to set in, and you scramble to the surface, gasping for air.
And there it is… another wave coming your way.
And another…
And another…
Sometimes, it seems that the waves never stop pounding.
Given that this book is in your hands, I know you now understand life on a whole new level. Tragedy has struck. You’ve been hit by it, you’ve been wounded by it, and you have been trapped by it. I’m not sure where you are in the process, but I would assume that you are still in the midst of your nightmare, somehow searching for a way through the mess and madness that has invaded your life.
Tragedy. Trauma. Crisis.
The grief… the pain… the heartache… the loss… My hunch is, the thought “How could this happen?” has raced through your heart and head more than a few times.
The unthinkable. The unbelievable. The unimaginable.
Sometimes, it seems that the waves never stop pounding.
People off the coast of Sumatra, Indonesia took such a pounding on December 26, 2004. An earthquake registering 9.2 on the Richter scale occurred underwater, unleashing one of the deadliest natural disasters in history. When all was said and done, over 230,000 people died in the countries of Indonesia, Sri Lanka, India and Thailand. As wave after wave entered shallow water and began to amplify on shore, thousands of people were sent in search of higher ground only to be engulfed by nature’s latest roar. Massive debris, shattered buildings, families thrown into immediate crisis… the signs were everywhere of total devastation. It was “trauma” on a large scale. The unleashed powers of nature had instantly transformed thousands, if not millions of lives. Nothing would ever be the same for people in those countries. And the truth is, those of us watching around the world on television would never be the same, either.
“Trauma” is like that (I am using the word “trauma” throughout the book to capture the idea of “tragedy,” “crisis,” “illness,” “diagnosis,” “the worst news ever,” “unexpected event,” etc.). Especially “event” trauma, in which an incident occurs that launches everything from its own epicenter. It swoops in, demands its due and leaves just as quickly. Or so it seems. The footprints of such a trauma do not actually fade from the sand quite as easily. The event awakens emotions and thoughts typically vaulted in the subconscious – fear, anxiety, hardship, change, trust. And, just as the trauma unfolds with force, so do the after-effects. Things that didn’t seem issues, all of a sudden, are huge. The minute abilities we commonly take for granted appear to take on a new life, leaving us ravaged from the toll that even the “normal” extracts.
Wave after wave after wave…
A tsunami is a great metaphor for tragedy. The trauma that results – both the event and the after-affects – feels very much like wave after wave pounding your “shore.”
Those waves hurt. They pile on top of you. And they keep coming.
I remember watching with millions of others the events that transpired in the 2004 Indonesian tsunami. A friend who was tuned into the ‘blog-o-sphere’ kept my husband and me up to speed with “eye on the ground reports.” I remember news organizations daily upping the number of victims, lending more and more significance to the awesome force with which the tsunami hit shore. There was the constant search for something “good” – the child rescued from a mass of rubble… the family reunited after having been split up in the disaster… the heroic people who risked their own lives to save someone else. I remember feeling – as I did with other event traumas that have happened during my life (9/11, New Orleans, Mt. St. Helens, to name a few) – incredible pain, sadness, relief, and compassion.
While the effect on my TV screen wasn’t anywhere near to what someone on the ground in Indonesia was experiencing, I got the picture: When “trauma” hits, it hits hard. And fast. It is unrelenting.
More recently, the tsunami that hit Japan in March of 2011 brought back all of those same feelings, thoughts and fears.
You know those feelings.
You know those thoughts.
You know those fears.
Wave after wave after wave…
Tsunami.
Here’s what I have lived as a human being and what I know as a professional therapist who deals with people’s tragedies on a daily basis: the trauma doesn’t stop when the “event” is over. It doesn’t end when you leave the hospital. The event begins the trauma and catapults it into an even greater force… a tsunami. Even though the devastation of the event is incredibly painful, gut-wrenching and near impossible to fathom; the weeks, months and years that follow can be worse if there is not intentional care of the situation. The decisions people make (especially those “in charge”), the behaviors people engage, and the attitudes/beliefs they walk away with have everything to do with whether the trauma “wins” or not.
The tragedy can become THE story or it can become a PIECE of the story.
If all you consider is the negative effects, your tsunami “wins.” Please hear me… that is not to make light of the disaster. It was truly horrific. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. But, it is also possible to consider that the tsunami may have produced some positive things without denying the devastation that took place. If devastation is the end of the story – if it becomes THE story – then we miss the point. We miss the power within us to redeem something. That is, to take something “bad” and make something “good” come out of it without minimizing the event, without over-simplifying or over-spiritualizing the event, and without denying the affects of the event.
Is it possible that something “good” could come out of this?
Is it possible that this could lead you to live a better story?
Is it possible that you could find new meaning and purpose from all that has happened?
When the unthinkable happens, we just want to shut down. Often, it is too big, too overwhelming, too taxing… We want to quit. We want to forget it and just “exist,” whatever “exist” is. But to do so denies the human spirit. To do so denies human resiliency. To do so lets the tragedy win…
Here’s the deal: tragedy happens. And often, there is no rhyme or reason why. The question is, who is going to win? You? Or the tragedy?
The “trauma tsunami” most certainly has negative effects. However, it is possible for it to have positive effects as well. It all comes down to how people choose to respond. Are they aware of the “waves” that continue to roll in as a result of the experience? Do they know which waves are destructive? Do they know there are good waves to catch along the way? Are they prepared with information to know what could happen or what is normal to expect? Are they adequately able to develop new coping skills? Are they aware of the unspoken and subconscious messages that pound their brains? Is a person able to adjust to what is happening with the others around them – even as they are attending to their own “stuff” from the trauma? Does a person know what waves can catapult them to success in dealing with what has taken place? All of these questions and more are crucial in understanding how to respond to the trauma that has rocked your world.
How you choose to respond is everything.
As one whose family or loved ones have experienced a deep, wounding trauma from some sort of unpredictable or unplanned event (or set of circumstances), you get it. In fact, you might be in the midst of it right now. If so… this book is for you. Trust me, the tragedy you have been through or are currently going through is every bit as life-changing and unsettling as the Indian Ocean tsunami of 2004. Because you are in the midst of it, you may be wondering how to respond to all of this. Your “radar” that normally discerns what is healthy and unhealthy may have been thrown out of whack by the “unthinkable” that has occurred. You are probably exhausted, mentally and physically drained, and somewhat embarrassed you couldn’t figure out how to avoid the unpredictable in the first place.
All of these and more are normal reactions to the unimaginable happening. I want to help you find your way in your situation, understand what is really going on within you and around you, and give you the tools that best help prepare you to engage the lingering effects.
The tragedy doesn’t have to be the last chapter in your story… My hope is that, for you, it is a catapult to a much better story.
I know that sounds crazy. But the fact you are reading this means that your life has been turned upside down. Frankly, you are probably not sure how or if you are going to make it. Perhaps, you might not even be sure you want to. This is a book about that. It bluntly tells the truth on how tragedy affects the family. It addresses the waves of the resulting tsunami that continue to crash your shoreline.
While much has been written on what life is like for the “injured”, much less has been written for the “rest of the family” to understand what happens to them. If a child in the family is critically hurt in an accident and has life forever altered, what about the parents? What about the other children? Did they not “experience” the tragedy, too? How does the act of parenting change? How does the family system adapt? How does the trauma affect the behaviors of the other kids in the family? What of the guilt and shame associated with the event that all in the family carry with them?
Tsunami.
The images that come to mind simply mentioning the word give you an idea of what I mean by “family trauma tsunami.”
The Indonesian tsunami of 2004 did not end when the ocean calmed down and waves rolled back into the sea – and neither did your “tsunami.” You have had effects you could never have predicted – and perhaps more to come. You are experiencing feelings, pain, and conflict you never realized would be there. You are fighting to survive, awash in a sea of waves, hoping that the nightmare will someday end before it becomes a part of who you are. It is why the idea of “tsunami” is a good one to understand. A tsunami isn’t one big tidal wave… it is a series of waves that keep crashing in on you.
But, the ocean isn’t just the place where tsunamis lie in wait. The ocean is much more than that. Truth be told, most of the waves in the ocean are meant to be enjoyed, whether through a scenic beach view, sailing across the water or on top of a surfboard going for a great ride. The key is understanding the waves themselves… how they break, the variations in the sets as they roll in, and the way they weave and move in the sea. Some waves have destructive force written all over them. Others are the exact pathways to a great ride across the sea.
And so, the metaphor sets up like this: there are waves worth catching and there are waves worth avoiding. Trauma launches you into all sorts of things, good and bad. However, where you land is up to you. When surfing the ocean, where you go – whether you end up pinned underneath gasping for air or smoothly gliding along the surface carving a beautiful wake – depends on two things: reading the waves and choosing the one that gives you the best ride.
In the pages that follow, I will tell you about the waves – how to recognize them, pay attention to them, which waves to ride and which ones to avoid. How you choose to ride is up to you…
CHAPTER ONE
A person tends to remember vividly the first moment in her life that time stood still. For most, it is the moment you first saw that special someone. Or, that first hit in a baseball game, the first good report card, or the first time you knew you made your parents proud.
Exciting, positive and the thrill of accomplishment – all traits of a “time stood still” moment…
Not mine.
The day started easily enough. My family was headed to a friend’s house for dinner. I was excited. Not only were they great company, but my friend’s mother was a fabulous cook. I couldn’t wait to taste some of her terrific desserts. The day was September 15, 1984. I was thirteen. When we arrived we did the usual socializing – food, games and hang out time. There was a fire going in the pit that Todd (20) and Evan (14) were tending. Todd told me to go get my older sister (and his girlfriend), Kim (17). I ran into the house, got her and we went outside. As we walked up to the fire, we saw Evan pouring some diesel on the fire at Todd’s insistence. Just then… the can exploded.
And for a moment… time stood still.
It was like an M-80 firecracker had exploded. The bomb-like blast was the can exploding in two, sending off a big ball of fire that hit Evan’s legs in one direction and Kim’s and Todd’s faces in the other. Right then, it felt as if everything went into slow motion. Evan leaned his face back in time so the ball of fire missed his face, and as he did he doused me with the remaining diesel in the can. Jamie (11) and Evan’s little sister had been standing by a tree right behind Kim when the blast occurred and they bolted toward the house. Everything was so real, and yet, so unreal. “This can’t really be happening,” was my thought. It felt as if we were in a movie, running at slow speed. My thirteen-year-old mind didn’t know how to respond, so I did what thirteen-year-olds do when they panic: I laughed.
As I spun round and round to put out the fire that had latched onto my ankle, my frozen moment in time was shattered by Evan’s piercing screams. “I’m on fire! I’m on fire!” Instantly, what had once felt like slow motion now became a blur of reality. My first instinct was to jump on Evan’s legs and smother the flames with my body. For some reason, I didn’t. Instead, I fell to my knees and started pounding his legs with my hands to get the fire out. I later learned that jumping on him would have made flames immediately engulf me, given the diesel that had been spilled on me.
My Dad came running out of the house, saw Evan, and ran over to us. In one motion, he yanked Evan’s pants off his body. Not able to shed my 8th grade reality, I remember thinking, “Wow… I’ve never seen a boy in his underwear before!” Why I thought that I have no idea. Shock does weird things to you.
We extinguished the flames on Evan. Then Jamie saw my sister Kim and grabbed Dad to show him. She had rolled up against the back tire of a truck – just lying there face down on fire. Right then, Evan’s mom came out of the house with blankets. We grabbed them to put out the flames that were ravaging her body.
And then… silence. Time stood still again. It was like we all were standing there catching our collective breath, when out of nowhere… Todd. He was walking like he was drunk, with arms raised, and from his waist up he was one solid flame. Evan’s mom and I ran up to him, pounding him as hard as we could to get the flames out. My Dad ran and tackled him, knocking us down as well. I was so glad he was face down. He had no hair, nose, ears or fingers left. His body had been devoured by flames, resembling charcoal. He lifted his head and said, “My hair is gone, isn’t it?” That freaked me out.
The scene was one of sheer disbelief. Panic was everywhere.
I ran to the house and dialed 911. I remember it felt like forever until 911 answered the phone. It seemed like years before the ambulance arrived. Once it did, my world became a blur. All I could keep saying was, “How could this happen?”
Once the ambulance arrived, the paramedics took over. In the midst of utter shock, I took notice of one particular sight. A single shoe was sitting nearby, still on fire. My Dad walked up and kicked the shoe as hard as he could. He had the look of total failure… helpless, powerless, and completely defeated.
An earthquake had just triggered our tsunami.
Between the time the ambulance left and prior to understanding the gravity of what had taken place a short time later, I allowed myself to believe that this was just “an accident.” Accidents are like broken arms – you get them, they heal and life moves on without a radical adjustment in your story. Even at the hospital, I responded like the teenager I was. “When can we go home?” I would ask. “Can’t we leave now? Can’t they just send Kim home?” I soon learned this wasn’t a “broken arm” scenario. It wasn’t just a simple accident – this was life and death. And it was life and death for a solid month for my sister.
Kim, Todd, and Evan were all taken to the regional burn center at the University of Washington Harborview Medical Center in Seattle, WA, one hundred miles south of our home. Todd would die ten days later due to his extreme burns. It was revealed that Kim had 65% of her body burned and had to undergo 95 days of intensive treatment in the hospital. “Intensive”… that word doesn’t begin to describe the agony she endured. I felt horrified every time I walked through the doors of the hospital not being able to even identify my own sister.
This was a horror movie. “The Fire” as it came to be known in our family, had changed our lives forever. As a thirteen-year-old sitting by my sister’s bed, all I could think about was, “Why wasn’t it me?” I hadn’t been badly burned. Why not? “It should have been me,” I would tell myself over and over. I was the one who ran into the house to get my sister. If I hadn’t listened to Todd, this never would have happened to her. She never would have been in this place if it weren’t for me. I felt guilty. I felt responsible. I felt… lucky. And I felt wrong for feeling that way…
Life changed. The recovery process for Kim was long and torturous. Twenty-five operations. Amputated thumb and ear. Every day for her was an exercise in pain that was beyond excruciating. My mother lived during the week at Kim’s side, not knowing whether her daughter would live or die. My father took his turn on weekends, after spending the week trying to make ends meet for the family. Truth be told, life changed for my parents in ways I could never have imagined as a thirteen-year-old. I understand that so much more now as an adult and parent. Looking back, I am incredibly grateful for all my parents had to do to get our family through this event.
Bad things happen to good people. Every single day, tragedy happens in people’s lives who have always had the right intentions. That was certainly the case with us. This was no one’s “fault.” My parents, Evan, Todd, my sister, me… we are all good people. Mistakes take place all the time.
In the weeks to come, my sister Jamie and I adjusted to life at home, taking on roles and responsibilities previously tended to by our mother. The toll took its effect on everyone… Kim, Mom, Dad, Jamie, me. Life would never be the same.
The wave of exhaustion crashed in on us.
The wave of rage and fear crashed in on us.
The wave of the unknown crashed in on us.
Sometimes, it seems that the waves never stop pounding.
We had to find a “new normal”.
But I still wanted life “the way it used to be.” I was holding onto my fantasy when Kim came home on Dec. 19, 1984. Finally, we could be a family again. But the fantasy was shattered quickly. That happens when every day starts with crying and screaming as my Mom would help Kim put on her compression garments. Kim’s pain was intolerable. She was faced with the damage to her body every single day. She faced returning to school and adjusting to classmates who were adjusting to her. She faced rehabilitation and the mental stress of learning how to do things she once took for granted. She faced fears, doubts, pain, anger… and the constant wonder if life would ever be good again.
I wondered the same thing.
The stress of our new reality was evident everywhere. My mom was exhausted. My father was, too. Jamie and I would feel the heaviness of their exhaustion as we witnessed their longing for a life that once was and a guilt that ate at them constantly. They were doing everything they could for their family and yet, feeling like they hadn’t done enough.
Life wasn’t any easier for Jamie and me dealing with Kim. We bore the brunt of Kim’s rage as she struggled to find a new identity amidst her pain. We knew her rage was understandable, yet we were tired of it. We wanted life back to “normal.” It was in the middle of those times I remember thinking, “I wish she was back in the hospital.” I felt so ashamed for thinking that. And yet, it was honest.
I was caught between a rock and a hard place. My beliefs and feelings conflicted with each other and I felt ashamed of them all.
“The Fire” happened to me. And it didn’t. I began to come to grips with the reality that my life was forever changed, yet I wasn’t the “victim.” “The Fire” changed my life, yet I had no external scars to see. It left me in a very, very strange place. I felt both guilty and relieved at the same time. How do you honor your own feelings about what happened to you when nothing really happened to you? Who are you when you are now just a sideshow in your own family? How do you own your own guilt for being healthy and able? How do you handle it when you lose your own identity so a person you love can recover hers? Should a person feel mad about that? Should I feel guilty for being mad? I was scarred, but I wasn’t burned. I existed in a place that had no definition… that had no voice. I was lost. I felt I had no rights.
My family had the same issues. We were angry over the situation, but we had no way of processing it or talking about it. We didn’t even know if we had the right to feel angry. At the time, being angry was not something that was accepted in our various community circles. We needed to be “okay” with everything. At least, that’s the stance we took so as to honor our belief system.
But the anger was there.
Wave after wave of things to be angry about rolled in… Kim’s never-ending pain… how unfair it was… life being totally disrupted… our frustration with each other… the “why” questions… miscommunication… the doubts we had about the future.
Then, out of nowhere, the wave we weren’t expecting crashed on our shore. Prior to the day of “The Fire” my parents were in the process of changing insurance companies. In the transition, it was discovered that there was a day or two that our family wasn’t covered. The day of “The Fire” happened to be one of those days.
The bills piled up to a staggering amount of money.
Tsunami.
We undercommunicated and overspiritualized to cope. It’s what we knew. And we continued to live… or exist… or whatever it was that we did. All three sisters dealt with it our own way. Kim was the victim. I became the overfunctioning good girl. Jamie rebelled. Dad worked more. Mom worried and prayed more. Life became a walk through time echoing the silence of shattered innocence. Never again would I believe that being “good” kept you safe. “Safe” was a long time ago, left with a child who was no more…
Trauma. It hits hard and it is unrelenting.
I share this with you not so you will feel sorry for me or my family. I doubt that what my family went through is much different than what you are going through right now. I do want you to know this, though… You are not the only ones to have gone through times like these and you are not alone. There is a whole world of us out there who can relate to everything you are experiencing.
“Event” trauma, such as the tsunami that hit the Indian Ocean or “The Fire” in my family, is unpredictable. You don’t know when it is going to occur. You don’t plan for it. Why would you? You are never fully prepared when it takes place – despite your best intentions. Frankly, a person doesn’t normally consider that such a thing would happen to him. Who hopes for that? The concept of “unpredictability” makes event trauma its own unique entity in the field of trauma study. And truthfully, it happens much more than we think.
While natural disasters of the magnitude we’ve been discussing are well known, less known are the event traumas that families encounter all the time… the child who is severely injured… the house that burns to the ground… the sexual abuse of a sibling… the car accident that critically wounds a parent… the moment you were told your child has leukemia… when you heard the doctor say, “tumor” or “diabetes”… the ultrasound revealing your baby has a birth defect… the flames that burn your sister.
If you have been through such an unpredictable event in your life, you understand. This is different. It hits hard and fast and leaves long-lasting effects. And when it hits… a person’s whole world collapses. Life is now different. Attitudes are different. Attending to the simple and mundane is different. Nothing feels safe, nothing feels normal, and nothing feels predictable anymore. It makes a person wonder if his world was ever really all that safe in the first place.
Sometimes, it seems that the waves never stop pounding.
CHAPTER TWO
First off, let me say this. You can make it through this, if you choose.
You have what it takes.