recovery

The Tenth Anniversary… and the unsung hero

Have you ever realized your life consists of specific time frames? 

Before I was married. After I was married. 

Before I had children. After I had children. 

When I was a kid. After I left home. 

Hopefully you get the point. These frames of times can bring a feeling of joy or pain. We also use these as a reference of before and after especially when telling a story. 

I have a few frames that detail my life and today marks the tenth anniversary of a moment in time that changed so much about how I function in life. 

January 20, 2011 started just like most mornings. I sat down, had my coffee and quiet time. The weather was sunny and chilly on that day, very much like it is today. I rushed off to Nashville ten years ago with no thought that today would be the day that someone thought I was a threat and needed to be silenced. 

My Facebook status from today ten years ago was this. 

Thank you all for the prayers. I look like Rocky at the end of the fight scene. Pray that I do not have to have surgery on Wednesday and that my sight will not be affected. 

That was all I was worried about at that point in time. No surgery and my sight. The letters PTSD weren’t even part of my vocabulary, let alone the word Anxiety. 

For those who have followed this decade old saga knows that I have talked about all different aspects of it. And have even celebrated victories of healing. But for this anniversary I want to share a story that hasn’t had much attention and is still something that we have to overcome, even today. 

After the attack, and when the diagnosis of PTSD was given and the anxiety started to rear its ugly head, I, the victim was offered support and counseling. My husband, strong and brave spent the next few years being my over-protector because I was never sure when and where the triggers would happen. 

Then the healing started and I would venture out more and more by myself. I had such a great support system and my husband was extremely happy that I had been healed, but when a crime has been committed there are the victims, and then what I call the secondary victims.   

My husband, a secondary victim has silently dealt with this for ten years. He went from having lunch, planning a mission trip to being guilt ridden that he should have been there to protect me. 

He has felt anger that someone actually took their hands and hurt his bride. His anger wanted to find this person and hurt them as well. With all the support I received there was no one to talk to or work through his feelings. Mine always came first. 

Now that we are a decade past that dreadful phone call he received, I wish I could say he has been freed.  On Monday this week, he woke up with unexplained anxiety. I had it as well. It wasn’t debilitating, it was just present. That afternoon I had to write the date for something and it hit me that this was the anniversary week. I explained that to Rob and just a few minutes later he told me that the anxiety had lifted.

Your subconscious does funny things like that and you may go hours or even days without realizing where the anxiety, anger etc stemmed from. 

So today as I celebrate the fact I am still here on this earth, my prayer is for all the secondary victims who haven’t found healing. I pray even if it’s as simple as someone to talk to, they will reach out or someone will reach out to them. 

And I thank God for my hero… my husband who has sacrificed so I could heal.

Glass Frogs

Last night I had a dream and here it is.

It was winter, I know this because the pipes had busted. There was water everywhere, but yet, I followed him around. All I wanted was for “him” to cut my hair. Even though I knew in my heart of hearts, he wasn’t going to cut it.

There was a group in a side room.

They said it was Christian, but it felt different.

I still followed him from room to room in hopes of getting my hair cut.

I didn’t feel threatened or in danger.

Something was off, but it was dark, wet and dreary.  And I didn’t want to leave because I wanted my hair cut.

My socks were wet from all the water that filled the floor. I remember walking into a part of the house, the concrete had sunk. There were people laying on the cold wet ground, fetching frogs. They were clear frogs, I remember distinctly their legs… The little pointy circles as toes and their feet were overly webbed.

Then he touched my breast. I ran away.

Then I woke up.

It didn’t make sense while it was going on, but as I journaled a few things came to the surface. I felt compelled to share it, and maybe it’ll be helpful to someone else.

I woke up remembering this vivid dream.. I also remember it was in color. The frogs were clear but greenish and reddish. The guy was wearing a red shirt and black pants.

I got out my pen and started journaling, asking God to speak to me. I have found that when a dream bothers me or is that vivid, that God has a message for me. Here is what I found flowing as I allowed the Spirit the freedom to speak.

  • I really need to run away at the first sign of discerning red flags but I wait, until something goes bad, then I have to flee.
  • Lord it wasn’t anyone’s fault. I was vulnerable and had a hole in my heart that wanted to affirmed and filled.

Then I found myself praying

  • Lord fill my hole in my heart with even more of your love.
  • Allow me to walk away and not put myself into situations.

As I talked the dream through with my husband, I realized how many times I still do this with work and relationships.

There are red flags.

I should run away, but I think for whatever reason they are the only ones who can “cut my hair”.

Hopefully you have realized that “cutting my hair” is a metaphor for, in my case, love, attention, getting to the next level in work, whatever “it” may be.

But the frogs, why the frogs?

I googled the frogs that were in my dream. And here is a picture of the frog I dreamt of.  It is called a glass frog.

This got me to start thinking.

Glass! Fragile! Handle with care.

And then I remembered hearing that FROG stood for Forever Relying On God.

As I grow in my relationship with the Lord, I find myself in awe at how many times I still allow myself to be pulled into the lure of what others, I think, can offer me.

People will fail us. We will fail people.

God has given me a gift of a discerning spirit, but even as important, God gave me a life partner in my husband who has the ultimate gift of discernment, and I really need to start listening more instead of allowing my flesh to lead.