Stage 4: Hello, My Name is Overwhelmed

Overwhelmed: verb (used with object)

1.

to overcome completely in mind or feeling: overwhelmed by remorse.

2.

to overpower or overcome, especially with superior forces; destroy; crush: Roman troops were overwhelmed by barbarians.

3.

to cover or bury beneath a mass of something, as floodwaters, debris, or an avalanche; submerge: Lava from erupting Vesuvius overwhelmed the city of Pompeii.

4.

to load, heap, treat, or address with an overpowering or excessive amount of anything: a child overwhelmed with presents; to overwhelm someone with questions.

5.

to overthrow.

Overwhelmed. That’s what people have been telling me that is what I am feeling at the multiple appointments we have been to thus far since Joe was discharged from the hospital, every single nurse, doctor, therapist, and others have used this term to describe my life right now. The third definition is the tense of which they are saying I am overwhelmed, I am being loaded, heaped, and treated by many with excessive amounts of: appointments, questions, names, locations, terms, etc. I politely shake my head yes and move on. Overwhelmed doesn’t quite seem to fit the entirety of what I am feeling. Maybe I should suggest that they add to their list of terms on what I am feeling: anxious, exhausted, lost, and confused: like I have been on a merry-go-round for 48 hours straight. Although the term overwhelmed fits my current situation, it doesn’t encompass the extent of the feelings I am feeling.

Did I think that I would be “overwhelmed” when I got here, of course I did, but did I think it would be to this extent, HELL NO. This experience has put me in a place that I have never been in before. Having to keep track of appointments other than my own, having to push a wheelchair with my man in it that weighs more than I do miles on end, then at the end of the day getting my school work done, cooking dinner, and giving him shots: those things I guess I just didn’t think of during my dream of moving and living in a place with the love of my life. Life sure threw me a hard reality check. When I played house with my sister as a kid, I envisioned a beautiful home with my husband where we lived and loved each other forever and ever. Dreams don’t come true. There are clothes all over the floor, dishes in the sink that I still haven’t done, and the beds aren’t made; yes Joe and I still love each other and will forever and ever of course.

Discharge day was an incredible day; we were finally getting Joe out of the hospital and into the apartment for good. I thought we were going to walk out of the hospital, go back to the apartment and relax. WAY WRONG. We had to meet about 3 different people, get their information, report to his squad leader, get his meds (which took about a half hour wait), and fill out paperwork out the wazoo. Relax, what a silly girl to think that I would ever get a real chance to sit and relax.

Throughout this whole experience people have been telling me “God doesn’t give us more than we can handle”. I don’t know what God was thinking when he threw me this because I have multiple moments during the day where my mind races and tells myself that I can’t do this, there is absolutely no way I can do this. I am a 20-year-old college student who hardly knows how to take care of myself. My “selfish” moments are what I call them. Where my mind races about how this is affecting me, but finally God sneaks his way back into my head and reminds me that this isn’t about me, it’s about Joe. Take care of Joe; that is my purpose here as of now. Who knows what my purpose will be after he his discharged from the hospital, we will just have to wait and see.

I don’t know how many of you have had these moments with a loved one whether that is a your child, spouse, boyfriend/girlfriend, or friend, but when you can look at them and you just know that something isn’t right. They are acting in their normal ways, saying their normal things, but there is something else there that isn’t usually there. I have that connection with Joe. I can look at him, read his face and I knew there was something not right. He wasn’t eating the way he normally does, he was sleeping restlessly and sometimes not at all, and he was oddly quiet. Now, Joe isn’t the type to come out and spill his feelings and thoughts to someone. I knew that something wasn’t right and instead of drilling questions and asking him “what’s wrong” every ten minutes like I really wanted to, I let him do things the way he wanted to. I think that he has a persona that he feels like he has to hold in front of me, which I assume is common amongst most men and didn’t communicate his anxious thoughts with me. Finally, at about 9:30 at night he told me he needed to go to the ER because he felt he was having a panic attack and wanted something to help him sleep. At this ER visit they also informed us that they think that Joe is suffering PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder), which is very common amongst people that return from war and/or are wounded.

I have plenty of history with panic attacks. They run in the family and I too have had many ER visits for medicine to help me calm down. What was frustrating to me is that he wasn’t communicating with me, the shock of “take me to the ER now” took me by complete shock, which in turn freaked me out. That is my job here; I came here to be his aide and he is hiding feelings from me. Why is he doing this? Am I upset that he is hiding this feelings and thoughts from me, of course I am. Do I blame him for not sharing some emotions that may seem “unmanly” to me, not at all. All I hope for is that he soon becomes comfortable with telling me these things because it is going to be him and me for the rest of our lives.

One thing that I was very excited about when I was moving down here to live with him was to sleep in the same bed with him again finally. The last time Joe and I slept in the same bed together was in October. Now, I’m not talking about extracurricular bedtime activities in the same bed, but to finally be able to sleep and feel him next to me and not my dog. Then he told me the news; he didn’t want to sleep in the same bed. Automatically, I freaked out. Why doesn’t he want to sleep with me? Does he not like being in the same bed? Then I started thinking about it more and more (I obsessed about it and continue to today) and started to realize that he didn’t kiss me or hug me as much as he used to anymore. He doesn’t call me pet names any more. He hardly tells me he loves me and when I told him that I loved him, I would get a mumble at most as a response. Being heart broken for him over the fact that he is injured and so angry at the world on top of being personally heart broken and scared that I am going to lose him again is an uncomfortable combination. Sometimes I find myself with tears streaming down my cheek and I don’t know if they are tears I’m crying are for myself, him, or both of us.

So far it has been a lonely world here, my only friend and person I really converse with is Joe when he isn’t having one of his moments where he would, rightfully so, just want to be completely alone with his thoughts. I don’t have many friends here on base, but will hopefully meet more as we get more settled here. I wore a hoodie from my high school volleyball team to his appointments one day. The head volleyball coach for the Walter Reed team stopped me and asked if I still played. I said yes and told me to come try it out to see if I would enjoy playing on the team. I haven’t played super competitive volleyball since high school, but played on a city league team in Sitka. I think it will be a good release for me and will give Joe and I a chance to take a little break from each other. We are together all the time, our only alone time is when either of us is taking a pee or showering. Joe thinks I should go for it and agrees that it will be good for me to release the amped up, frustrated, energy I am holding in because I have no where else for it to go. A volleyball will be a great victim. 

At the end of the definition of overwhelmed it states, “ to overthrow”. I hope that eventually I will be able to overthrow my overwhelming feelings. I hope the Joe will overthrow his sad and depressed feelings throughout his rehab. I want to just get rid of them and start to be in a place that is tranquil and peaceful for Joe and I. I hope that these doctors are doing what is right for him and that I will eventually have my Joe, the one that teases me about being short or mixing up my words, the one that kisses me back when I kiss him, the one that pulls me in close in the middle of the night just because I rolled away from him, the one I fell in love with, back.

Stage 4 in the Journey of Unexpecting the Unexpected.