Mama Bunkfish

Hi there! There’s been so many things I’ve wanted to write about these last few months but I’ve stopped myself because 1) Every thought that comes into my head doesn’t have to come out and 2) I don’t want to offend people. But I’m at a point in my life where not saying how I feel could be potentially dangerous to my health – mental and physical. Now, before you start to think this is going to be some salacious tell-all drama filled story – it’s not. I really just want to talk about trauma and healing.

In June I had double carpal tunnel surgery. It had gotten to a point where my hands hurt so bad I couldn’t sleep through the night; and y’all know I love sleep. The procedure itself was pretty simple – they put me under, opened up my hands and cut the ligament. I was stitched and bandaged and sent home. Now if you know anything about the human body, surgery is a form of trauma. There’s a disruption to your body’s natural state and it can be painful and sometimes do even more damage. Thankfully mine helped resolve the problem but four months later my body is still healing. And according to my surgeon, because of the extent of my carpal tunnel issue it could take a year for me to be back to 100%. But it’s not going to heal automatically. I was supposed to spend the first week not doing any repetitive tasks and I didn’t follow the doctor’s orders. So my healing is taking a little longer. This process, along with various other things that have happened in my life time (which I didn’t really understand until now), have helped me see one thing clearly: our wounds never heal if we don’t follow orders.

In college I was a bitter, angry, witch sometimes. It was my 3rd year, I had transferred schools and I was less than thrilled with my choice to be an education major. I had also found a lump in my armpit area earlier that year and was pretty sure I was going to die (Super Dramatic, right?) I decided to get healthy, lose a bunch of weight and just knew that would make it better. It did not. It wasn’t until I had a complete meltdown with suicidal thoughts that I decided to seek the help of a counselor and antidepressants. That was the best decision I could’ve ever made. I did the work and healed from that season in my life. As other seasons have come and gone I’ve had to go through the same process and I’m grateful I did. Have I figured it all out? Nope. Do I still have bouts of crippling anxiety? You bet. But that, combined with a growing faith and belief that God can and will make things better, have made those rough moments shorter and easier to handle. But none of that would’ve happened if I didn’t heal.

You see, there is only so much mental trauma that we can suffer before we break – ourselves, our families, and our futures. As I look at my children and husband, I know that the best thing I can do is heal my hurts so I don’t hurt them. And as I look and reflect on my life, the people in and out of my circle, and the world at large I’m aware of the unhealed hurt and brokenness and it truly saddens me. I pray that we all lean on God so He can direct us on the best path towards healing.

Until next time…