Gosh, I've waited a long time to write this portion. I wasn't in denial; I just didn't want to revisit the pain.
I vaguely remember staring at a wall. The family that took me in said that I was staring at it for at least a month. I don't remember. It's all a blur to me. I was in shock. I was frozen.
I owned two houses but was unable to live in either (legalities!). So they took me in, bandaged me up, prayed over me and nursed me back to health . . . angels amongst us.
My mind was like a broken record . . . it was spinning, but various pieces of information weren't recording. I used to be high capacity - able to run three businesses and an entire household, meaning - cleaning house, laundry, bills, doctor appointments, sports appointments, pool cleaner, house cleaner, chef, accountant, etc. but now . . .life was at a standstill. My mind was in shock and not working at high capacity any longer. It was an effort to get dressed and I had to mentally map out every single move.
My closest friends said things like "self care." This didn't register either. What was that? I had been taking care of others for so long and helping others that "self-care" was some fairy tale off in the wild blue yonder. What the hell were they talking about?
What was "self?" Who was I?" I had no idea anymore. All I knew is that I had titles . . "so and so's mom" at the schools or "So and so's wife" anywhere else.
I had a plaque that I'd kept from my desk at my first major job . . . it said, "Denee N. Burns" . . who was that person? I had no idea any more.
It was a person with a name and no titles and I knew I needed to rediscover her. Was she a person? She kind of felt like an accessory or a curtain. A bystander watching everyone else take part in life. She was a facilitator, an instrument, an observer, but didn't feel like a partaker.
Staring at a wall was all that I could do, until I decided to take a walk. First it was around the neighborhood, and then it was around the block. Each step was painful and pre-meditated . . "Take one step in front of the other." I kept repeating this to myself over and over.
I tried to interview with a headhunter to obtain a job and I cried throughout the entire interview . . . she was like, "Honey, you can't cry in an interview!" Ughhh. . . .I still had work to do.
How did I move forward? I had no idea. It's like a blind person feeling their way through a dark tunnel.
Therapy? Yeah, that kind of helped to start thawing the ice.
Yoga? That helped this lopsided person to gain a center.
Church? At least it was warm, welcoming, friendly and not icy and condemning and judgmental. It helped to bring about emotional healing and was a type of "hospital" where I could feel safe.
Friends? Only the truest kind. Most abandoned, but the truest of friends stayed with and they were pillars that would bring about healing in a most expeditious sort of way.
Friends were instrumental tools who helped to break the ice which kept my brain frozen and helped me to find my true identity.
Thus the journey of re-discovery and overcoming a major life obstacle began . . .
Best Friends Forever taken in Paris, France.
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