Her Life in A day in the life...

Her Life is a group that meets every Thursday evening at church that’s just for us gals (hence the name). I love it! I always leave feeling 100 times better than when I got there. It’s awesome to just hang out with other women and talk to and learn from each other. Tonight they played the song “Come As You Are” by Crowder. Oh man, I love that song. And with the way I’ve been feeling lately, it brought me to tears. It’s a beautiful song, and it reminded me that no matter how far I stray or how unworthy I feel, Jesus wants me to come to Him just the way I am. It’s such an amazing feeling!

Today I had another session with my therapist. It went really well. Only a few tears were shed this time. I know, tears aren’t necessarily bad but damn, sometimes I get so tired of crying! Can a person get dehydrated from crying so much? I’ll have to look into that. Anyway, we’re still taking things slowly and I’m very grateful for that. I think the thing that’s going to be the hardest for me to work through is the guilt I feel over my brother’s death. I know I was only 8 years old when it happened, but I feel responsible. If I had told my parents what Mr. F (neighbor who sexually abused me) had done to me a couple of weeks earlier, then Daniel, Mr. F’s son and my brother’s friend, wouldn’t have been at our house that night with his Big Wheel we wouldn’t have been taking turns riding it down our driveway and into the street. That’s how my brother died. It was his turn and just as he rode into the street a car hit him. It wasn’t the driver’s fault. He wasn’t speeding or anything like that. My brother rode into the street in front of him and there was no way he could stop in time. He was a 16 year old kid with his mom and little sister in the car. I heard years later that after that happened he would just sit in his bedroom and cry. So I ruined several lives by keeping my mouth shut. Adult Amy knows that logically it wasn’t her fault. Eight year old Amy still doesn’t believe it. Hopefully one day, with the help of my therapist, I’ll be able to convince her of that. Does it make sense to say that I wish I could find her and hug her and tell her it’s not her fault, it was just an accident?

Let me tell you about Vicky. Vicky got to the hospital the same day I did, but much later that day. I was walking down the hall when she was escorted through the door to the unit we were on by one of the techs and we both stopped and stared at each other. I told her she looked so familiar and she said the same to me. We talked more that evening after she was done being “processed” and we eventually came to realize that we didn’t know each other at all and had never met. But damn, it sure felt like we did. She was there because of a dependency on xanax due to debilitating anxiety. She’d lost her husband and both her parents in less than two years. I can’t even imagine dealing with that much loss in such a short period of time. But she’s a remarkably strong woman and I really admire her. We were each other’s shadow the whole time we were there. We were always together. We arrived the same day and we left the same day. She’s a wonderful woman and I’m so grateful we were there at the same time. We gave each other support, calmed each other down, made each other laugh, and just helped each other get through our time there. We exchanged numbers and addresses when she left (she left first) and we will definitely be keeping in touch. She was my hospital soulmate…lol.

Tomorrow is date night! :-) Hubby and I are going to dinner and then to a movie. I’m really looking forward to it. Things are so good between us right now and I’m going to do everything I can to keep them that way. We even had some phenomenal sex last night....WOO HOO!

I’m thinking of writing a book about my time in the hospital. I think I’ll call it Fifty Shades of Crazy.

I hope you all had a lovely day! God’s blessings.

Amy