When the glue fails

Sometimes it’s hard to be the glue that holds things together. Other times, it’s as easy as breathing. I’ve mastered the art of being the glue at work,  and share the responsibility with my darling husband on the home front.

But what happens when the glue is too stressed to be strong?

We just went through a very difficult time at home. The long version is too hard for me to write about. In a nutshell,   we all are suffering from moderate PTSD. My girls’ version was sparked by the horrible holiday trauma from December. Mine was triggered then, but goes deeper, and my husband’s. ..well, I’m not sure, but he handles a case of lifelong abuse well.  Kind of a normal day in paradise here.

About two weeks ago is when it all unraveled.  I received a call from the school counselor that my younger girl was actively suicidal. On top of this, we learned that we need to find a different place to live as of August, and since no decent homes are available for sale, it will need to be a rental.

My world stopped in that moment. My sweet, happy girl. How on earth could she be in that much distress?

My husband and I reached out for help, and got it. The upshot is that my younger one has a new doc to manage her meds, and the four of us are in family counseling. 

As for me, I’m dealing with traumatic memories of my own and working to keep things together through the current situation.  Some days I feel like I’m barely hanging on, and pasting a smile on my face is an accomplishment.

I keep telling myself that this will all pass, but it’s not very convincing sometimes. The four of us have bonded even more tightly over this,  which is wonderful. 

Please, God, let it be enough. My glue needs to be strong enough again. Too many people need me for me to fall apart.



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