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The Kitchen Floor


Her knees met the kitchen floor again. Her pain was so great, she could barely breathe. The intensity was all consuming. 

Her tears flooded the floor. 

“Please, no,” she thought, “Please, not again.”

Her grief and emotional pain were overwhelming her system. She wanted it all to end, to stop, to no longer exist. 

She could barely muster the energy to think. The blurred line between her entire reality and the reality in the midst of any episode took a ton of mental energy to sift through. What was real and what was not?

But the pain was definitely real. And her response, in that moment, was out of her control. 

That’s the hard truth that so many don’t understand about the reality of present-day trauma response that’s linked to the past. The brain doesn’t understand that the trauma is no longer happening, so it responds as if it is still happening in the midst of a trigger that’s a reminder of the haunting past. 

Her grief and emotional pain were overwhelming her system. She wanted it all to end, to stop, to no longer exist. She wanted to no longer exist. 

It was excruciating, like lightning striking the body and thunder erupting within it at the exact same time. She felt as if someone had died — the love of her life had died — over, and over, and over, and over again. And there was no time to recover from the grief before the death occurred again, and again, and again — a cumulative effect of pain, compounding her body, mind, soul, and spirit.  

So many times before — too many times — she had found herself in this exact same position, on her knees, as her tears flooded the kitchen floor from the grief, sadness, and overwhelming emotional pain she felt. And every time, she would wonder how she would find the strength to stand again.

And every time, eventually, through the pain and tears, she found her way to remembering that this moment would be transient — that emotions are transient — and this too shall pass. If she could just hold on for a moment longer, she would be ok… she would make it through, even though she never knew if that “moment longer” would equate to a minute, a day, a week, or more.

And every time, she would wonder how she would find the strength to stand again. And, every time, eventually, through the pain and tears, she found her way to remembering that this moment would be transient.

Yes, mustering as much strength as she could, she thought, “My story will not end this way. My story will not end today.”

And her story continues. 

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