As I begin to type this…well, even before I began, I could feel the lump and tightness in my throat. I can feel my heartbeat in my stomach, and the tears welling up in my eyes. I can feel the anxiety. All of this comes from not knowing what will come out as I type. It also comes from knowing that I did not write one entry in the entire year of 2023. It comes from knowing that I have not allowed myself to feel, act or create in over a year.
I PAUSED...
And I used to feel like a pause was a bad thing…but, I no longer feel that way! Pausing for me was NECESSARY! There was a very good reason for my pause…That reason is the same reason why I initially started this blog…It is a word that I absolutely despise using and acknowledging at times. TRAUMA!
To speak about my trauma means acknowledging the pain and emotions that come with it. To speak about my trauma means to open myself up to the world in a way that I am not sure that I want to. But to not speak about my trauma means that I am holding on to the pain instead of acknowledging it and working through it…and I am not willing to hold onto the pain in a way that negatively impacts me any longer.
SO HERE IT GOES…
On September 22, 2022, I had a normal day at work. After work we had a normal cheer practice, and my daughters and I headed home. My middle child was a cheerleader, and my baby girl had tennis practice. I went home, sent some messages out and hopped in the shower…While showering, my daughter ran into my bathroom and said the words that changed my and my entire families lives forever… “Mom, I think something happened to Sir!”.
Who is Sir…Sir James Anthony Robinson. My youngest nephew. My children’s first cousin who was more like a brother to them. My brother’s ONLY CHILD!
to not speak about my trauma means that I am holding on to the pain instead of acknowledging it and working through it
My next frantic step after hearing my daughter’s words were to jump out of the shower and call my sister…She answered…And I said, “KK said something happened to Sir.” She said, “Sir has been shot and we are on our way to the hospital!” I don’t really remember my next steps too much. I was in a fog, but somehow managed to get dressed, we all got into the car and headed to the hospital.
My family waited for what seemed like an ETERNITY. My family is a very large close-knit group, so there were many of us at the hospital awaiting word on his condition. We waited, asked questions, prayed, contacted other family members and waited some more. Patience was running very thin, but there was nothing that we could do but wait to receive an update on Sir James’ condition. So, that is what we did…FINALLY they came out to grab my brother and our sister went in along with him. We waited for them to come back out. It seemed like it took at least 30 minutes. The expectation was an update on his condition. So, when my sister came walking out as I watched my brother standing inside speaking to someone, we all turned to her and were asking how he was…
SHE PAUSED…
When she finally spoke, the only words she could manage to utter were, “He’s Gone.” I don’t even want to think about all of the details of the reactions we had to those words. An entire family CRUSHED in a matter of a few hours. From the time we got to the hospital until the time we finally received the news that my 17-year-old nephew was gone…It was just hours…Too many hours.
We all did our best to absorb the news and console one another. Contacting my son, sister, nieces, nephews, and other family members who do not live here in SC was the next step. And breaking the news to our Mother that her grandchild was gone was heart wrenching…
Then there is what comes after the loss of a loved one… the people, the questions, the planning, the viewing, the funeral…and then figuring out life moving forward. Not to mention, figuring out how to get through all these things as your family waits for the person responsible for the murder of their beloved to be apprehended.
My HEART…is beating rapidly as I type this…and I want to pause, but I will not. Because it is time to MOVE.
For the better part of a year, I didn’t know how I should feel, act or respond to losing my nephew on a daily basis. I didn’t feel right having good days because all I could think about was all the pain my brother had to be feeling.
How could I feel good or be happy when he is suffering the loss of his only child?
How could I feel good or happy when my children, siblings, his uncles, aunts, my nieces, and nephews were grieving?
How could I feel good or happy when my nephew’s teachers, friends, classmates, co-workers and other extended family were grieving?
I did not know how to do that without feeling immense guilt.
I struggled to get out of bed some days. I no longer knew how to feel good about sharing great news concerning my children because I could only think of my brother not having his child and shut down. I was a complete mess in so many ways, but somehow, I managed to continue moving through life in survival mode. Doing all the things that I had to do to get through my days. Being a supportive and present mother. Being there for my family.
Although I struggled I held on to my faith, and I listened for some sort of guidance from God. The only word that God kept whispering softly to my spirit was...
REST.
Rest was something that I never got because of the busyness of my life and all of the responsibilities I have. Work, coaching, a senior in college, a senior in high school, and a freshman in high school are just SOME of the things that kept me busy. No matter how much I felt like I needed to get back to building my business, blogging, and doing all the things that I knew God instructed me to do in my life…Every time I would even think of getting started I would hear the whisper of the word rest again. And I would STOP.
And I allowed myself to grieve without guilt. I allowed myself to grieve without worrying about or caring how it made others feel or what they thought of me because of it. I allowed myself to grieve and feel hurt, and anger because of the way my nephew’s precious life was stolen. I allowed myself to grieve as my family had to wait for his murderer to be apprehended. I allowed myself to grieve as we received notices about preliminary hearings, and bond hearings, and tried to process the details we received on why this happened.
I allowed myself to grieve without guilt.
And so, I rested. And as I was grieving, I was also resting and allowing God to restore, replenish, and refocus my heart and mind. I understand that allowing my soul to rest in God is what would bring me through and continue to sustain me as I figure out how to move in my life again.
So, for 2023, I did not promote my business, add new products, blog, or do anything other than figure out how to become better from the inside. So, I focused on my mental, emotional and physical health as much as I could. I was in therapy for the entire year, and I still am. I worked out, ate as well as I could, got healthy and dropped a tremendous amount of weight. And I focused on being well and helping my family to be well.
But now it is 2024, and it is time for me to move again. And so here I am. And I am moving. This year I will continue to share my heart and do the work that God placed in my heart to do. To help others who have experienced trauma in their lives in the same ways that I have. My trauma is no longer limited to just sexual trauma. Losing a family member to gun violence is also a very traumatic event to say the least. So, my goal in all that I do is to help myself and others receive JUSTICE. The justice that they so deserve from being violated in ANY WAY in this world!
And so, I am moving…and I am INTERRUPTED NO MORE!
