Living When Time Stops

There is a feeling that happens to everybody at some point in their life. Whether it’s a death, a sickness, a divorce, a family grief – I’m sure there are things I don’t even know about that cause this feeling. All I know is, I know I’m not the only one.

I remember calling one of the important people in my life – one who has been through grief and she’s still standing upright. It was when we had to make the decision to sign a Do Not Resuscitate order for Paige, or to do a Tracheostomy surgery so we could save her life every time this episode occurred. I called her crying – wondering what she would’ve done for her 15-year-old on life support. It was either that conversation or another conversation she told me “I was still able to sleep – I still ate. I don’t know how I did it, but you just do.” I got it then. I got the feeling of living when time stops.

In my life, time stops like that every time my girl stops breathing. We choose to continue her life just about every 3 months. Sometimes it’s worse than others. I may have this feeling for one day. This time, it was worse. I still am in this feeling – it’s been about 72 hours at this point. I am living, but time has stopped.

"I’m walking but I’m not moving
I’m stuck in time
Yet my mind races ahead
What if ..
What if I’ll be planning a funeral
Or will she even have one?
What if this is it
What if we’ll have to decide 
I’m paralyzed in fear 
I can’t cry, I can’t get the tears to come
I talk, I walk
I’m like the walking dead
I try to do an easy thing,
But I know it’s simply vain
My mind pushes me to do the important thing
I hold my girl
I stroke her hair 
I sing praises, I sing lament 
My heart is full of grief 
Yet I still make a joke
I’m still able to be polite 
I still eat my favorite food,
I still brush my teeth in the morning 
I lay my head down at night,
I still set my alarm
I’m walking,
Yet I’m standing still
I’m living,
But time has simply stopped"

It’s hard to process trauma when you’re going through it – our brain chooses our way, like avoidance, denial, anger, etc. Right now, I think I’m either avoiding or denying – not sure which one. I haven’t cried, I haven’t found a reason to be angry – I have been able to laugh and joke, though, so that’s sort of a good sign. It’s like I’m numb. I’m terrified on the inside. My body doesn’t know what to do. Yet, I’ve been here before. I know how this usually ends – so I can help myself get through it. I thought I’d share how I do it, so you all can help yourself too.

Allow

It is my personal tendency to want to force myself to cry or be angry. “I can’t feel numb! That’s not good for me! I have to process!” my mind tells me. I get frustrated with myself the longer I feel like this. I tell myself “Life keeps going, you have to keep up!” or “if you don’t feel better by this day, you’re going to have to get help or something.”

Yet today, I am challenging myself to allow. Allow myself to feel paralyzed. Allow my brain to do its thing. God made me this way for a reason. He’s protecting me from the grief until I can handle it. He is protecting me from my heart being torn out of my chest. He is keeping guard over me through my mind – I need to let him. If I feel numb, I feel numb. Just allow. Work can wait. The kitchen can wait. Talking to a therapist can wait. Just be.

Pray, but don’t say anything.

During the times I feel like this, verbalizing is easy but hard at the same time. If you see me this weekend, I will tell you I thought I was losing Paige. I can do that. But will I tell you how I feel? I’ll say I feel numb. I won’t tell you how terrified I may be. I won’t tell you how I’m scared I’ll feel like this for two or three weeks. I won’t tell you that I don’t know how I’ll do this again. How long can I take it? Would it be easier for us if Paige’s body was released? Would it be easier if we didn’t hook her up to a ventilator every time? So many things my mind and heart are going through, but I have trouble verbalizing it (if I do and you’re with me, that’s a good thing!! Just listen!!)

Another human is easy. God? That’s hard. I’m speaking to the one who has the power in his hand to make my girl breathe. Every breath she’s taken in the last 18 months is because of Him. He designed her every gene, He knit her together in my womb. He sees her too. He sees the machine breathing for her. I’ve gotten mad at him before – I stopped praying for a little while at the beginning of this. Then, I had the realization, He hates this more than I do. He hates this so much He sacrificed His own son for Paige, so that one day she won’t have this body anymore. That’s how much He loves Paige. So, I talk to Him. I talk to Him about everything and anything, because He understands.

Yet sometimes I don’t know how to use words. And I can’t cry either. So, this morning, I got into child’s pose. I saw my God on His throne. And I let my mind go. I didn’t say anything. He saw every thought; He heard my heart bleed. He saw the tears that won’t come. And He listened.

Pray without saying anything. Let God in. Let God see.

Do your routine as much as you can.

When time stops, it’s hard to start moving again. It’s like when I’m depressed or having a nervous breakdown. The thing that saves me is normally my morning routine (you’ll see that poem in my book!). Do the things that don’t require mental energy, but it is still an action. Brush your teeth. Take a shower (taking a shower is hard, trust me). Change your clothes. I change Paige’s clothes too. I try and eat (that’s hard too, I know). If you normally read your Bible in the morning, try and do it. Yes, your mind will be scattered – you can’t focus. You won’t remember a thing. That’s OK. Pick up your Bible, and let your eyes skim the words. It’s OK. Just follow your normal routine, even if you feel like you’re not doing anything. You are, you just can’t feel it.

John and I watched our show last night while we ate dinner. That’s a way we cope. It’s our bonding time, it makes us feel alive again. It’s like I can conquer anything when I’m close to my husband and I’m doing something normal. You trick your mind into thinking everything is OK, and you feel like it for a second. Yet when you’re sitting on the couch and you know it’s not OK, you’re with your safe person. You can handle it.

Allow other people to talk.

It’s a very difficult thing to answer questions when time stops. If someone asks me if they can help, I will most likely say no. I can’t figure out if I need help or not. It’s overwhelming just to say I need help or figure out what I need. I just don’t know. But if someone just says, “I’m coming over” and because time isn’t stopped for them, they talk about what happened in their day. For a minute, I’m not thinking about my time. I’m thinking of theirs. Laughing is a bit easier. I feel a little bit more like me. It’s a distraction. It helps me cope.

For Other People – How Do You Help?

I get asked a lot of times “How Can we Help?” or they’ll say, “I have no idea what to do for you right now” The people who have experienced something like this know not even to ask, really. They either just bring you food or they come over. They don’t ask, because they have empathy. But people who don’t know, that’s ok! You’re not alone either. For me personally, I love seeing a text asking how Paige is. I just can’t always respond. It means a lot when people ask, but I just can’t get myself to answer. When you simply come over, that helps. I must answer the door if you’re just standing there! If I tell you I’m scared, you don’t have to be scared. Just listen. Be my journal – let me write. Whatever my mind does, if I verbalize some of it, that’s good for me. Help me get out of my bubble, talk about something that’s going on in your life. If you want to work, dishes are always a thing. In these crises, it doesn’t matter how the person likes it done – they don’t care at this moment. It just is something else I don’t have to do. Slowly by surely one minute at a time, one person at a time, this feeling starts to slowly go away.

If you’re in this feeling too, I know how you feel. I don’t know how your crisis will it, but so far, I’ve always come out of it. Give yourself time, don’t pressure your mind. Take one day at a time and keep walking even though you feel like you’re going nowhere at all.