I always read my posts to Brandon before I publish them, because I value his opinion and need validation and also sometimes want some advice. I couldn’t figure out how to end this one, but I started with that information before I even read this to him and he said “And they all lived happily ever after.” SPOILERS.
I dug out my “BRAVE” tank top the other day. It’s one of my favorites, because a) it’s cute and 2) it’s my word. But then in true Kelly fashion, I started to overthink.
Am I allowed to wear this shirt? Doesn’t wearing a shirt like this imply that I am this thing?
Will people look at me and think I look brave?
Sometimes I feel like I’m brave. But does my life actually qualify me as brave?
Would people hear my story and think I live up to my shirt or that I just need to suck it up and deal with it?
WHY DO I FEEL LIKE I NEED TO LIVE UP TO A SHIRT IT IS A SHIRT FOR CRYING OUT LOUD JUST WEAR IT KELLY
Welcome to my brain. This is what happens here.
You know the thing where you’re not supposed to ask for patience because God will give you something to be patient about?
Remember the part where I said I was going to be brave? I had the best of intentions. And then it was 2018.
It started out normal enough. We had a new normal and it was good. And then there was a car wreck. (It’s always a car wreck.) A phone call. “I’m on my way home. I had a wreck. I don’t know what happened.” At this point, we still only had one vehicle, which Brandon was using to take himself back and forth to work, so I can’t even get there. So we had to have a friend go get him, then take him to the ER to make sure he was fine. (The other person was also fine.) The conclusion — nobody knows. A whole lot of nobody knows. Over the following weeks and months, it was doctor after doctor, specialist after specialist, and ER after ER as we ruled everything else out and figured out there were seizures happening, but with no particular trigger and no particular warning. They just happened, nobody knew why, and nothing could stop it. There were medication changes, but there’s not just a one-size-fits-all “stop having seizures” medicine. So it’s trial and error, there are side effects, and he’d push through side effects until they lessened, just to have another seizure, have doses changed, and the side effects come right back.
There was the 7 minute seizure on the couch. There was the seizure while walking down the metal staircase in the warehouse at work that led to falling down the bottom several stairs into a table. There were so many phone calls from coworkers — “He had another one. He’s ok, I just wanted to let you know.” And then there was the day in December 2018 when he had fifteen. Fif. Teen. That was a two-ER-day that led to a two day hospital stay. Not many more answers were found, but a few changes were made and it started to get better.
It’s still a battle. They’re further between now; at their worst they were happening about every week and a half. But I’m still constantly checking his eyes and making sure he isn’t wobbly. I’m constantly terrified the next phone call is going to be THE phone call. I’m trying to emerge from survival mode. I’ve had my head down for so long, just trying to make it. I didn’t have the option to not keep going… it doesn’t feel like brave when it feels like it was the only option.
But maybe it is. (opens in a new
“Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the assessment that something else is more important than fear.” -FDR
Courage, obviously, a synonym for bravery. (Also, “pluckiness”. LOL)
I was terrified every day. I am still afraid every day. But there are things more important. We have children. We have each other. We have a life and a new home in a new (old) place and we’ve got to make the most of it and live.
I really like the movie Tangled. Mandy Moore, Zachary Levi, that little lizard. Frying pans, who knew? I also like the actual Brave, but as I’m writing this, imagery of Tangled is just dancing around my head. Rapunzel is so free. She’s scared to actually leave, but she sucks it up, and once she gets out of her tower, goes for it. (Eventually. After a breakdown or two.) And it is so, so worth it.
Nobody brave ever sat inside and watched the world go by. They faced it, head up, eyes up, looking it in the face. They put on their shoes (or didn’t), walked out the door (or slid down their hair), and lived.
And they all lived happily ever after.
(Note to self:: always use Brandon’s endings.)
