I stood.

 "I stood up in the shower today."

That sentence might seem like too much information, or weird...strange even..

I get that. 

But I said that sentence out loud to myself over 50 times on Friday. 

"I stood up."

"I stood up."

"I STOOD."

You see, its been many many months since that seemingly small occurrence has happened....

January. 

Thats the last time.

Over 11 months ago.

Every time I have showered since then, I have done anything but stand.

I have slipped into the water and fallen to my knees...

or climbed in from the bathroom floor to the shower floor. 

I have laid down like a small child.

I have sat there.

Water pouring over my whole self and falling to the tub floor, mixing there with my tears. 

I have sat....silently crying...shaking.

Other days unable to stop the sound...

Crying loudly and praying that the dropping of the water around me would soften the noise.

I have been so so low.

I have prayed...

I have tried to hold myself together all day in front of my family, only to fall apart the moment that bathroom door closed....

I remember one day in particular,  I sat there for far too long, the water had turned cold...my skin was purple with chill and at the end of each of the thousands of goosebumps my hair stood on end. But I could not move. I had neither the strength nor the desire to stand. I reached my foot out to turn off the tap and sat there frozen...still...sobbing...and cold. I could hear the kids running back and forth throughout the house and I knew that there would be countless messes and chaos when the door finally opened. So I just sat. Once I finally caught my breath and slowed the tears, I grabbed the towel and threw myself out of the tub. Slowly I pulled myself to my feet. I wiped my face....and I opened the door. Three of the four kids were waiting for me there...their faces relieved at the sight of mine.. Their smiles reaching deep within me...my lips curled upward and I finished out my day... Only to repeat the cycle the next.

The kids cant go to school...they're all home.

24 hours a day.....we are together..

Things are hard for them right now, just as they are for me...and most everyone.

They're faced with the stress of these uncertain times, paired with the underlying fear of their brother's wellbeing...  They hold a lot of responsibility in their tiny hands...trying to keep up with their own studies...missing school....missing friends...knowing that Parklen's safety is important...but mourning what they've lost...                                                                                                                                                     I see it each time I look at them...each time I send them off to meet with their teacher online...When they talk about their friends, or activities they miss...and I know that I have to keep it together....for them....until I close that door...and then it's just the same...

Every... time... 

Its been just the same...

The same.

Until Friday.

Not much was different...but I was able to stand up. The water was hotter up there...the warmth was comforting. I barely noticed...until I stepped out and my feet firmly hit the floor. I looked at myself in the mirror.... No tears, no need to compose myself....it was just me, standing up and looking onward... 

I dont know what was different...I haven't stood again since. But I have clung onto that day. A sign of hope. 

I have been working through terrible things.

Mental struggles that are so heavy that my arms feel faint.

Its taken so much time, and guidance to put a name to my grief...to formulate a plan.

I spent many many years as an advocate...a fighter...a caregiver..a strong momma and wife... 

I had to.

There wasn't another choice.

I had to put a pin in all of my pain....leave it there on the board...to be dealt with later.

I had to ignore emotions in order to deal with the hand that was dealt to me...

and now....

12 years later...

I grieve.

I cry for every time I couldn't.

For every night I slept next to a dying child...

For every morning I was awoken with the sounds of a hospital..

I cry for every life altering decision I was forced to make....

for the nights alone... 

I cry for the meals I ate, secretly in a bathroom..

I cry for the oppurtunies we missed...

the memories we weren't allowed to make.

For the hurt.

For the pain...

I cry for the 24 year old that couldn't...

and for the 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, and 36 year old women too...

I cry for Parky...

For the life that has caused him so much pain...

I cry for Paysen.....

and Phinlynn...

and for Phisher.

I cry for moments that felt like hell...

the memories that wake me still.

I cry for the woman inside of me that always just wanted to fit in....and for the day she realized she never could...

I cry for distance between...for the weeks alone...

For the way life could have been...

For the way it turned out to be.

I cry because, in my broken state...God meets me there...

Undeserving, unworthy....messy, and sad... He sits with me.

He gathers each tear in His hands and I feel the weight lesson a bit each time he picks one up.

He tells me I'm safe...with Him.

I cry because of the times I had to be strong. 

I cry because I feel misunderstood and unseen.

I cry because of loss...of hurt.

Most importantly...I cry because I have given myself space to feel the things I dont want to feel.

I have allowed the hurt of many years to begin to seep out of the cracks...I have decided to stop mending the rips, the places that are torn and the imperfections from over a decade of hurt...I have chosen to let it out....

It hurts....every day...

Theres such an important part of being someone of faith... its the realization that life isn't "all or nothing"...its "yes and"..  

Its believing in the power of faith...prayer...belief.. 

and allowing my hurt to exist anyway.

Its not allowing the guilt of pain diminish what I believe.

Its holding tight to who holds the future...while I deal with the past.

Its believing fully that I dont have to fight for myself, my reputation, my worth..because He fights on my behalf. 

Its believing that even the cries that make no sense result in a God that hears...

I will hold on tight to the fact that one day, last week...I stood on both feet and didn't cry.

The light at the end of the tunnel...

the water in the middle of the desert...

the glimmer of hope in the midst fo the darkness...

I will continue to allow the feelings that are uncomfortable find their place. Life is hard. It has been for so so long...

As the days keep passing in this strange year, I realize...it might just continue that way for a while...

I have been gifted time...extra time with my kids, extra time to make memories...extra time together...