Climbing Out, One Step at a Time

  Functionally Mute Functioning isn't the same thing as feeling okay. There is so much of my time that I spend functionally mute. I have the words. They are all there, mentally lined up and ready to go. I know what I need to say. I know what I need to do. But I can't make myself move. I can't get the words out. I just sit there. It feels like total-body paralysis. There are projects I need to handle. Phone calls I need to make. Paperwork, appointments, insurance, replacing my car... every task feels bigger than it should. I look at the list, and instead of starting somewhere, I become completely overwhelmed. Frozen. Since the accident, I've realized that trauma doesn't always look the way people expect it to. Sometimes it looks like going to work every day. Taking care of your kids. Making dinner. Smiling through conversations. Answering emails. Crossing things off your to-do list. From the outside, it probably looks like you're doing just fine. In many ways, I ...

 It's Been a Minute It's been a minute. I've opened this page more times than I can count over the past few months. I'd think about writing, stare at a blinking cursor, and then close it again. Life has a funny way of doing that. Sometimes it isn't one big thing. Sometimes it's a hundred little things. And sometimes it is one big thing that changes the rhythm of everything else. A few months ago, I was involved in a serious accident on Interstate 287. Since then, life has looked a little different. I'm not ready to write much more about that just yet. But I am ready to write again. Somewhere along the way, it became easier to focus on work, the kids, the garden, volunteering, and checking off the next thing on the to-do list than it was to sit down and put my thoughts into words. This blog was never meant to be perfect. It was meant to be honest. So here's my promise to myself—and to anyone who happens to stumble across this little corner of the internet...