Defenestrate

2 years ago in late July, I was stabbed in the face, hospitalized, should have been killed or blinded but not. That left a lot of baggage to deal with. My husband wanted me to quit my job then and there. My concern was that he didn’t have a full time job. Matthew was working for a news station making minimum wage. And he was only working 25 hours a week. I kept just “dealing” with everything going on inside because I didn’t know how to get a counselor. I didn’t know how to ask for help.

Then this last August 2011, a kid got me down on the ground while attacking me. He weighed probably about 250+ pounds. He was beating the back of my head with a closed fist while he tried to (in my opinion) bite my face. (He does have a history of biting people in the face.) It was about 6 seconds before my co-workers could get him off of me; however, that moment of me vs. a kid trying to seriously injure me in my facial region brought up, well, everything.

I started asking my work how to get counseling. They kept telling me that I had to a call a number that was on a piece of paper. The piece of paper told me that I had to talk with someone on the phone to explain why I needed counseling. The paper confused the crap out of me. I was scared that my work would find out that I was asking for counseling. I also didn’t want to talk to anyone that I didn’t know over the phone about anything this personal. So, I kept pushing it off.

Finally, in November, I went to the head of my work and told her the situation. She told me that all I had to do was find a certified …. something or other …. and Tristar (the insurance company my work is affiliated with) would approve me getting counseling. Well, I started going to counseling about once a week (or sometimes once every two weeks depending on my schedule.)

Matthew found a GOOD, full time job with benefits. And got a great first-raise after three months of working there.

After two visits, my counselor asked me why I was still working in violent environment if I wanted to heal trauma from violence? It was a valid question. I ignored her and kept working. I kept having panic attacks while at work.

My hands would go numb, I would not be able to breath, and I wanted to jump out of the nearest window. But I ignored that instinct because I didn’t want a co-worker to have to take on a child alone … the way I had to.

My counselor encouraged me even more to go on personal leave, saying that I needed it to get better. Matthew put his foot down, telling me that I was not allowed to work in the homes for any reason (remember I was hurt in a group home, which was not where I normally work. I normally work in a classroom with children with developmental disability and/or Autism.) Over a month ago, she wrote a somewhat detailed letter (not about anything we talked about) to Tristar telling them that I needed a non-violent job for at least 6 months to a year-and-a-half to start healing. And that it would be impossible for me to heal while working in a violent work environment.

I had two positive home pregnancy tests on April 21, a Saturday.

My counselor informed me of the letter to Tristar on April 25th. In face, she read it to me. She told me that it was time to go into my work and tell them that I needed time off. I thought about. I told her about my pregnancy. I planned on going into work on April 30, and ask for how to get time off.

Three days after that, I went to work and started to bleed very, very, very badly. It was Friday, April 27. Since I was in a waiting line to get a women’s doctor (my application was still being processed), and Shasta Community Health Center didn’t take that kind of situation, I went to a local women’s clinic to get a test. And to get some advice. The test came back positive, but the line was very, very, very faded. The people there sat and prayed with me, saying it seemed like I was miscarrying.

I left. Got Matthew from work. And we cried in each other’s arms most of the rest of the day.

I went to church that night with Nathan and Valerie and my husband. Saturday, I continued to have a lot of blood and tremendous cramping. And then at 1:08 AM on Saturday, April 28, I ran to the bathroom screaming in pain and miscarried. The little sac (Matthew and I’s baby) just feel right out.

The next Monday, I tried to go to work, but lost it even before I managed to be on shift for eight minutes. I was crying hard really quietly. I ended up leaving work that day. In my head, I kept wondering if the stress of my work caused me to miscarry. (That’s probably not the case, but, well, it hurts to think about.)

My counselor was out of town that week and the next. She was New York City. I was finally able to meet with her to get the SDI paperwork done this last Wednesday.

Work. Work is a whole other post.

Did this help you understand some, Sister-love?

Well, I had a partial mental breakdown (if that is possible) last night. If seemed like everything Matthew said, I couldn’t hear. And when I did hear him, it was only condemnation, which was NOT what he was saying. I was so lost and confused.

Last night I had dreams of screaming and fire … and older things. (shiver) I do not like those dreams.

This morning when I woke up, I just knew I needed to go get prayer from a neighbor — Doris. Then the jeep didn’t start. I started trying to find a way to get it to work. Then I got paperwork from my work that was very annoying. Then I said, “screw it,” and went to Doris anyway.

And while we were there, we just prayed, rebuked, celebrated God and got me out of the second heaven into the third heaven. (Yes, I am using Bethel jargon.) The second heaven is the “spiritual area where both angels and demons interact.” The third heaven is “the throne room of God.” By the end of it, my mind was not confused, I had hope again, I could detect lies and truth, and I felt significantly better! (Spiritually, emotionally, physically and socially.)

After eight months, I have found my e-mail that had the password to this site!

Yeah!

That means I can start updating it more frequently.