Losing Control vs. Relinquishing It

 

         As a teenager I used to love to read LDS romance novels. My parents would drive us to the library once a week and I would leave with a stack of eight or nine books tucked under my chin, and I would lose myself in a world of heroines who were carefree, laid back, and breezy with a problem or two, but she would eventually triumph after a seemingly short five or six chapters, and it always wrapped up so very neatly (and of course, with her on the arm of a handsome new beau)! I imagined that life would go like that, and that I was indeed that heroine. I would never have dreamt that I would be the 24 year old that would scrub her bathtub when she was stressing over something, or carefully packing two weeks ahead of an upcoming event (yes, I have done that!) I know that I am a control freak, and I'm actually proud of it. It's part of why the events on and since May 13th have been so difficult for me.

         It was 10:30pm, and Tyler and I were on the couch watching TV and waiting to go to a bonfire with friends. We were supposed to leave any minute, I'm not even sure why we hadn't left yet, and it's a miracle we hadn't. Thankfully I was safely on the couch folding laundry, because that's the last thing I remember until about 10:45pm. My knowledge of what occurred during the next 15 minutes consists only in what Tyler has recounted to me. I experienced a grand-mal seizure for the first time in my life, which has baffled every doctor I have seen. I bit my tongue as I convulsed, and started choking on my own blood. It took two weeks for the cankers on both sides of my tongue to go away and gave me some idea of how much blood I had consumed and was pouring out of my mouth. My face turned gray and Tyler thought I was dying. He called 911 and held me until the shaking subsided.

         My first memory is waking up as the stretcher was being wheeled down our driveway as my parents ran alongside it. I had no idea what had happened, just that I was exhausted beyond anything I had ever felt before, my tongue was swollen and I had blood all down the front of my shirt and the taste in my mouth, and my husband was terrified and climbing in the ambulance with me.

         That night was traumatic, but what I never anticipated or had braced for was what would follow. The neurologist had found seizure activity and irregularities on my EEG but was booked out until October (and that was for the emergent cases like mine). The E.R. doctor warned me that he suspended my drivers license for 3 months due to Utah law regulations, but I wasn't prepared for how much that would impact my day-to-day life, or more unpredictably my self-esteem. Overnight I felt as if I had been turned into a horrible burden. In my mind I became dead weight that no one would want to drag around with them, even to my husband, who I know loves and cherishes me beyond anything I can even comprehend. No matter how frequently or kindly others offered to help, it was as if there was a filter in my ears that mutated the words to poison and shrivel my confidence. Satan has such a way of sneaking in if we let him, and I definitely have given ear to his whisperings too often in the last few months.

         Stress was mounting at work, and while I had only had the one major seizure I was having several petit-mal seizures every few days, and we made the decision to pull me out of work to take that stressor off my plate. It came at a good time, as these mini-seizures or my "cute little dance" as we have started calling them around here, vary anywhere from just my left hand twitching, to a trembling loss of control of my whole body, and has increased to an almost daily occurrence. My driving suspension was extended, and I sunk back into despair. "I didn't learn the lesson I was supposed to learn last time" I texted to Tyler the day the doctor called. I knew I couldn't safely drive, and so did everyone else around me who was anywhere near rational (I wasn't on the rational train some days for sure) but something about being told you can't drive brings a finality to the situation, a crippling dependence on others for stupid things like tampons and chocolate and Dr. Pepper and social interaction. Forgetting something at the store isn't a big deal until you can't go there whenever you want. I learned really quick to put my organizing skills to my grocery list so I don't forget a prescription again!

 
         The kindness of others has been such a help; there were days that I had locked myself away in the house and was incredibly depressed, and Heavenly Father has sent the sweetest angels to come pull me out. These outings or rides would never be something these women would think of as monumental, but an afternoon of quilting or an hour in the temple was enough to help me survive that day, and words can't express my gratitude that they answered a prompting that came because of hundreds of unspoken pleas to my Heavenly Dad for help. My father-in-law drove me to and from work every day for months without a word of complaint, and many times it was talks with him about doctors visits and his small but simple comments about praying for us or conversation about the gospel that comforted my heart on a daily basis.

         I am learning to relinquish control, even as I experience a loss of control.  Every day is a process of re-learning patience. Some days I fall flat on my face (not literally, I have auras that give me warning!) and other days I haphazardly tape and glue my faith together and hang on for the ride, but I know without a doubt that my Savior knows and loves me, and that every effort I make, no matter how feeble or faltering, is enough. I know that even on my darkest days, when I feel like nothing can pull me out, He can, if I will let go and let Him.