Surviving Trauma

Today, the blog is going to take a very personal slant. My guide decided today to have me write about the 10 of Swords, the painful end card. (Anna K Tarot) Looking at this card it shows incredible pain and devastation. The aftermath of a battle is evident with the blood stained snow and swords. Something happened, something terrible happened, someone suffered...but there’s no body. In the distance you see a figure, walking away. Their back is to us, and we see bleeding wounds. The take away is that you went through something devastating and painful, but you survived and walked away. It’s over, you made it through, but it cost you.

Yikes! What a terrible card to have to write about. Or is it? It really depends on your perspective and where you are on your journey. This is the kind of event that shatters you and changes everything...and I know exactly what mine was. For you it could be a bitter divorce, a cancer diagnosis, losing someone very close to you, even the loss of a pet, a loss of financial security...basically a life changing loss.

Some brands of cards keep a body in the frame. I like that this artist does not. The number 10 signifies the end of a cycle. I like to think that not having a body present allows you to focus on the fact that it’s all over and behind you, and rather than focusing on the wounds you are moving forward. You don’t need a body to remind you that it was a terrible thing, you’ll carry those scars with you forever.

For me, the death of my son was the traumatic event that forever changed who I was. I see this card and I relive that day of the phone call. I don’t remember much about that day or what happened after the phone call. I do remember there was a sound that came out of me that I’d never heard before and hope to never hear again. Those of you on similar journeys know exactly what I mean. Those of you that don’t, consider yourself blessed, and I pray you never know.

Suicide awareness month officially was September, but the Out of Darkness walks supported by AFSP.org are still going on all around the country. We are doing ours in November. This card popping up deep in the middle of this campaign was no accident, I’m sure. I know there are others reading this that need these words right now; to know you are not alone. The pain from grief is heavy, and it never really lifts—you just grow accustomed to it. You learn to live without them in your life as a physical presence. For a mom...it leaves a great big hole.

If you are new in your journey, or still trying to cope with what happened and all the changes it brought, your focus will be on the swords and the blood. Your eye is naturally drawn to that because that’s how you are feeling. The coldness of the snow, the sharp edges of the swords and the crimson stain left there is a perfect example to you, but I need you now to look up and away from that. I need to draw your eyes back to what I want this card to really mean for you...and for me.

Hope. The artist gives us a figure walking away to show us that although we are gravely injured...we survived. We did not succumb to what was meant to destroy us. We did not remain impaled and stuck like other cards show. No, the artist is showing us that deep within us there’s a strength that we were able to draw on. Call it faith, call it love, call it sheer stubbornness, whatever it was within you, this inner strength remained unharmed. This means that at our very core, the will to survive was stronger than everything else, and for whatever reason, we got up and we limped away.

My journey began that day. I clung to my husband and my sons, my sisters and my friends, to pull me through my pain. Not one time did any of them worry that I would give up because they knew me too well. Instead, they looked at me in wonder—how much more can she take and not break? I had broken, but I managed to keep everything together and not shatter because I knew I was needed here, that I had work to do yet; it was not my time and not totally my choice. I was fractured and functioning. I was slowly getting up and limping away. We all were...all of us that knew Brandon felt this deep pain, and every single one of us had to choose what to do next. We chose each other. We chose the pain, because pain always happens before healing...but we chose to survive.

I’ve met people along the way that would never have been in my life. I can’t imagine never knowing (name with held) Brandon found her through her mediumship because he knew that I needed her in my life, a missing piece I didn’t know was missing. I also experienced love from my family, especially my sisters (related by blood or not), more deeply than I ever had before. I gained new insight into myself and what I believe, how I use my faith, and what I hope my future brings. I work hard to talk about things no one wants to talk about in college groups online. I bring Brandon with me every time and I share his story so that another mother could avoid my pain. I try to support others who are on my same journey by showing them that healing is possible, and that it happens in your own time in your own way. Healing...yes, it is possible but those scars are forever.

I am that figure that’s limping away. Some days are much harder than others. Some days I can’t leave the house because every single thing makes me cry. Some days the memories bury me. There are also days that I’m pretty satisfied, and content. I can’t say happy because that’s too big of a word to describe how I feel...I don’t know if happy will ever be as it once was for me. I do feel content though. I laugh, I smile, and overall I’d say life is improving every day for me. I find joy in some things, but mostly I seek peace, I seek the kind of serenity that comes with knowing everything is going to be ok. I might be limping, and I might need more help than I needed before...but I survived. You will too.

☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️

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