surfing an emotional tsunami
Since I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, I feel like I have been engaged in surfing a monster emotional tsunami. I’m sure there are many people on this planet with similar emotional issues, those with PTSD, for instance. While I don’t know “how you feel,” I do know that there is an inexplicable emotional intensity related to things that happen in your life, whether from the past or the acute anxiety of right this second. Giant waves are generally destructive and I feel this one is no different.
I did not receive a diagnosis of MS until I was 33. Up until that point, the early years were relatively easy with kids. When I was diagnosed and my husband left, my baby was only 1 year old. As I have said, it was a blessing in disguise. My ex-husband was and still is an alcoholic, a running theme in my life. I’ve long since forgiven him because what he faces forever is far worse than anything I’ve experienced.
When the kids were little, I don’t remember significant levels of stress. I remember dealing with problems but not stress. I think my youth was definitely in my court back then, and in my case, not ‘wasted on the young.” I was devastated when he left me for another woman (and I use the term ‘woman’ loosely). I felt especially ravaged after having just been diagnosed with a disease I had never really heard of, small children to take care of, no child support, no job, our house foreclosing, and cars repossessed.
My hands, arms, and upper body were numb, I had a broken heart, and most of all I couldn’t type very well anymore. I had to find a place for us to live, figure out how to get another job doing the only thing I knew how to do, transcription, and try to help my children deal with the loss of their dad at home, and eventually from their daily lives. I also continued giving myself daily injections of Copaxone in hopes my MS would not get worse.
I cried myself to sleep some nights, I prayed I’d wake up and “feel” again. We made it through but I have to say I know what it’s like to stand in line at the food bank for your Thanksgiving turkey. I know how it feels to pay for groceries with food stamps and have your older kids say, “I’ll meet you at the car,” because they were so embarrassed when I would pay at the cash register. When they got home though, they were always hungry.
Eventually, Annie (then about 13), asked if I would teach her how to give me my shots. I don’t know if she wanted to help or if she wanted to poke me with a needle. I showed her how though and she was actually very good at it. She did it off and on for awhile and then lost interest, like 13-year-olds can. Sometimes the injections worked for a year or two before I would have an exacerbation (a worsening of my symptoms), and I would head to the doctor for the dreaded IV infusion of prednisone and hopeful antiinflammatory relief.
You might not believe it but looking back, the stress I felt was mostly financial and the tidal wave was much smaller then, if that’s possible. Child support was unmentionable, insignificant, and when I couldn’t make the rent, we usually had to move. I always kept my children in the same school though, they had one constant in their lives, and that was their friends. Some people do well with stress, and I think I used to be one of them. I wasn’t the best at cooking, I was not strict like a good mom is, but I know I did the best I could with what I had.
My last baby learned to walk on a soccer field watching his big brothers play. Medical transcription began to save our lives. Eventually, I could type again and it allowed me to be home with the kids, go to soccer games and practices, LaCrosse, and to the barn for the girls to ride their horses. I tried so hard to give them everything I could but somehow it never seemed to be enough. Keeping up with the Jones’ was harder than I thought it would be, the older the kids got. Eventually I was able to buy our own turkey dinner, and I got to go to school functions and conferences.
The most important thing to me was my children did not have to go to daycare. I’m proud of that. Looking back, life was happy even though it was hard and there were many things ‘the village’ around us helped my kids accomplish when I couldn’t. They all know who they are. Friends dads were the father figures the kids needed and I won’t ever forget them.
The hard part seems over, but in reality I have more stress now than I ever did before. Sleep comes more fleetingly, I worry more about all my kids more than I did then. No one told me the hardest part of being a parent was AFTER they grow up. Those six ‘adults’ are my life still. I feel blessed that they trust me enough to share their problems with me, call me in the middle of the night if they need to, let me share in new relationships with boyfriends and girlfriends, and even past ones I can’t stop loving. I wouldn’t trade it for the world; though this is all part of the giant tsunami that feels like my life.
Multiple sclerosis did not create this giant wave. My choices, life circumstances, 6 kids, my husband leaving me, and everything else I’ve experienced helped shape the wave, helped bring it into being. MS was not the cause, it just gave me the catastrophic rating of a Tsunami. I don’t feel sad I have MS, I feel like “I’m doing it.”
Because of my job, my husband’s job, and mostly my husband, money isn’t as worrisome as it was before, but the stress of making the money builds the wave higher and denser for me. I’ve realized that Kevin takes care of me more so than anyone ever has, in countless ways. I’ve also realized how grateful and thankful I am for my life and all I have.
Maybe instead of trying to beat the wave, I need to surf the wave, become one with the wave and thereby make it work for me, make the wave go where I want it to go. I don’t have to let it devastate me.
After all, the view from up here is spectacular!
