These past few days, I’ve been struggling a lot with understanding and accepting what “normal” is now. I don’t think we’ve quite reached the place where the period of trauma and healing ends, and the new “normal” begins…but we’re getting closer. And I’m struggling to see what that might look like.
My husband’s car is totaled from when the deer ran into his driver side window last Tuesday. That means that for the next extended period of time, transporting all 5 members of my family becomes solely my role.
He also desperately is trying to convince himself and everyone around him that he’s fine. Which…I understand. After all of my surgeries, I’ve done the same. But he’s got about a good 10 minutes in him before he’s hurting to the point where he’s got to stop, and he’s pretty much done for the rest of the day.
The bruising and swelling in his face has gone down slightly, and I’ve gone from being completely unable to look at him, to being able to glance momentarily.
So….yay for progress?
We’ve gotten to spend a lot of mostly quality time together this past week. Especially this weekend, when we dropped the 2 big kids off with his mom and she kept them overnight.
Being away from them for the past day and a half has been amazing, if only for the fact that they are kids, and they don’t understand the severity of my husband’s injuries, and just want him to play with them.
There has definitely been a shift in our dynamic since the accident. While I’m always the caretaker, he has his roles where he provides what *I* need. Which is nearly always providing me with a few hours on the weekend of alone time, without the kids.
It’s really bothered him this weekend that he can’t do that for me.
Today he absolutely insisted on taking the baby with him to go pick up the kids from his mom. So that I could have a few minutes of alone time. I said no, that I really didn’t mind…I even offered to let him drive and I’ll go with him.
There was no getting around this. He was going to do this regardless of what I had to say about it.
I know there is a sense of him feeling like his freedom was stripped away. And he is feeling the effects of his new reality as well.
I think he needed to feel a moment of normalcy. So I didn’t fight him. I let him go, even though I hate it. And I’ll spend the entire time worrying.
Not to mention, I absolutely HATE when anyone else drives my car. That’s mine. It’s my baby. And I’m very protective of it. But…that’s less the issue here.
I have a lot to say and a lot to feel. I’ve been keeping it locked up tight…but damn does it all just feel like a pressure cooker in my head, ready to explode at any minute.
I’m now a few minutes into my “alone time”, but it just feels wrong. It doesn’t feel normal. I’m supposed to be taking care of him right now….and I know that this particular instance is a way of taking care of him. Giving him the freedom and trust that he’s always had.
But it’s hard.
I have no idea what the next phase of our lives look like. It’s certainly different than what it looked like last week.
At the end of the day, he’s still here, and whatever normal looks like…it’s a far better normal than if he weren’t.