I might have never understood... if I hadn't experienced crisis myself. I know all too well what those words mean now.
Being in crisis is when, one moment, it seems like things are under control, it'll all be okay, you're smiling and making memories... and in the blink of an eye, your entire world is turned upside down. Suddenly you're faced with a series of choices, and none of them are ones you want to make. All you want is to go back to that time a day, an hour ago, when you were laughing and smiling. All you want is for the sick feeling in the pit of your stomach to go away, to go back to being who you were Before Crisis. But you can't, because crisis is here, and it's not going away as quickly or as easily as it came on.
Being in crisis is taking this photo:
...and only days later, looking in the mirror and seeing this:
...you're thinking, is that really the same person I was a few days ago?
No. It's not. Because you're never the same once crisis hits. It's much like grief - you go through stages. First you're sad and despondent, like I was when that picture was taken. Then you're angry, like I was when I finally got around to destroying a couple of expired car seats that had been sitting around for a while today. Then there's this glimmer of hope, and suddenly you feel a need to be productive, to feel like you're doing something to remedy the crisis. Then... well, I don't know what comes next, because I haven't gotten there yet.
Crisis means waking up in the morning, if you're lucky and had a dreamless sleep, having that tiny moment where you don't remember you're in crisis. Then it hits you, and it's like someone dropped a huge weight on you. All the joy has gone out of the new day. All you feel is more pain, more sadness, more anger, more fear.
You don't want to get out of bed, or off the couch, or wherever you finally managed to fall asleep. All you want to do is lie there and cry. Or maybe the tears have dried up, you cried them all, and now all you can do is stare, eyes devoid of anything but pain. Your head is pounding with a tension headache and your stomach is churning just remembering everything you've been through. The only thing that eventually gets you up is the need to remedy those things.
You're not hungry for breakfast. If you force yourself to eat, it's only to eradicate that gnawing hunger in your stomach, one more thing to add to your list of stress-related ailments. Then, you don't know what to do. Sometimes you spend the whole day in bed, or on the couch. Sometimes you listen to music, finding peace and understanding in the lyrics. Sometimes you write, like I am now, so that others might understand just what it is to be in crisis. But never, ever, at any moment, does the pain subside. It is always there, always a dominant force in your mind, the crisis, the pain, the fear. Sometimes you just stop being able to function for a while. The crisis has stopped your world from spinning. You wonder how people keep going about their lives, not realizing that the earth has shifted off its axis and turned upside down?
Other people, for that matter, are a whole different battle. If they've never been in crisis, they don't know what you're going through. They probably don't know what to say. If you're in the type of crisis I am right now, you can't always say exactly what's going on or why you feel the way you do. When you do talk about it, it makes people uncomfortable. They can't think of the right words, so they stay silent, and you feel more alone than ever. My crisis. My pain. My problem. Everyone else's lives are moving on, while mine is at a heartwrenching standstill. To those of you who might fall into this category, who want to offer comfort but don't know what to say - there are no magic words. Nothing you can say will fix it. But sometimes, a simple hug, a 'we're praying for you', or 'I'm sorry you're going through this' or 'Let me know if you need anything/need to talk', or even just a 'like' on a facebook post to let the person in crisis know someone hears their cries of pain, makes all the difference. Sure, you can't fix the crisis, but you can let that person know they don't have to go through it alone.
If you're lucky, like I am, you have a few people in your life who do this without hesitation. Who call the moment they hear of the crisis, who say over and over, "I wish there was something I could do...", who ask you how you're doing, who tell you they're thinking of you and praying for you. If you're really lucky, like I am, you have a few friends who go above and beyond to make your time of crisis easier. A family member who is dealing with the same painful emotions you are, sitting down to talk and letting you know that you're not alone in your pain. A thoughtful friend bringing over pizza, pop, and a fruity drink at midnight when you've been crying all day, just to turn your night into something a little more positive. Knowing that a friend truly cares about you, your pain, and your crisis, that they're willing to walk the road with you. A friend coming over after the kids are in bed to help get you doing something productive, give you someone to talk to. Friend, if you're reading this, you know who you are.
Even a simple "what's going on?" to let someone know you care... makes all the difference. If you have advice, if you know something and offer it up, it can truly lift a huge load off someone's shoulders. Again, friends, you know who you are.
Crisis sucks. There's no two ways around it. It sucks. Whatever it is you're facing that has your life at a standstill until it's resolved, it's no fun at all. And silence from the people you love only makes you feel lonely and the weight of the crisis more heavy. But there are those who will go the extra mile to be there for you in your time of crisis, and it is those people we must reach out to and say, thank you, for making me feel a little less alone than I did before.
If someone you know is in crisis, chances are, you don't know what to say (unless you've been there yourself). Say it anyways. It doesn't matter what you say - it matters that you say it. And it's those words of love and encouragement that move people on to a stage that can see them through the rest of the crisis: Hope.
Yes, our little patchwork family is in crisis now. I can't see the end of the tunnel, I don't know how it will turn out, and I still cycle through those phases. My heart is still breaking every moment. No, I can't always share the details, especially in public. But I need you. Every single one of you reading this, what you think is beyond your ability is actually just within your reach. No, you can't fix the crisis, but you can share the load. Whether it's me or someone else, reach out. Those of you who have reached out to me mean the world to me. I can't even put it into words. Every prayer, every hug, every 'how are you', makes that load little lighter. And to those of you who have done that for us, this is my thanks to you. I don't know where we'd be without you. I hope none of you are ever faced with crisis, but if you are, please know that I will be there for you the way you have been there for me. And somehow... we will all see the end of this crisis.
Ellfant and I are waiting for you, baby. Until you come home. As long as it takes. Love, 'Kai'.
