My grandfather used to say that God never gives us more than we can handle. I apologize, dear grandfather, but I do believe you may be wrong. If this were true, then why have so many, including the faithful, committed or attempted suicide?
Mr.Battle is back in the hospital again. Fortunately this time is for a residential PTSD program (and is completely voluntary). This makes for the 10th hospital stay since August for his PTSD/meds/bipolar/suicidal ideation etc--and we are not alone. If this sounds true for you--you are not alone.
I see you. I see you! You with the spouse/family member who is struggling with trauma/mental illness. I see you, you with the smile on your face, desperately trying to hide the fact that you are choking back tears. You who are the glue and the foundation for everything and everyone around you. You who can't risk expressing or facing your emotions for fear that if you actually realize what is going on, you just might fall apart. I am you.
I see you, too. You who every day is a struggle-a struggle to wake up, to face yourself, to face your family and friends and the mirror. You who may feel as though you are a burden or a "downer." You who thinks about or may have thought about suicide as a final relief from the pain and the memories and the tomorrows. You are my husband.
You are not alone, and you are so precious! You matter. Your life matters! And you are so loved! Your struggles are real and powerful and painful and beautiful. And you matter!
"Blessed are the cracked, for they shall let in the light."
--Groucho Marx
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