As I was washing a bedroom wall today in preparation for a new paint job, I continued to ruminate on what may have contributed to the panic attack trigger. Since mid-July we have been in a remodeling upheaval on the whole upper floor of the house. We’ve refloored and repainted every room upstairs, as well as adding built-in bookcases and desks in the playroom for the boys’ maturing academic needs. Inch by inch our home is becoming a place that Jordan has not lived in nor left her mark upon.
These changes are good and definitely needed to take place. The playroom space is more cozy and useable now. But the reasons we built this home in the first place are disappearing. Jordan’s therapy swings no longer hang in the playroom. We patched holes in the drywall, painted the room, and placed new window coverings in Jordan’s old bedroom and moved Britten into it. The duck-and-flower trim that Aunt Dana painted for Jordan was plastered over. Thankfully the feces-stained carpet is gone; however, that is how she left her mark. If/when Jordan is able to spend the night with us she will do so in the old “baby” room. That is the room we are tackling now. The carpet where she spread a tube of Desetin and a bottle of baby powder is languishing in the land fill. Soon the melted paint on the wall where she sprayed a can of Lysol will be covered over. In my eyes she is disappearing from our home and new memories with her here are far and few between.
Jackson and Britten have also been watching old home videos from our previous house. Jordan and Jackson are small with no Britten yet. Jackson loves the videos with his sissy. Jordan is still small and manageable. She and Jackson have a fun relationship. Jackson begs me to sit and watch the video with him, but it is excruciating for me. I was still naïve and hopeful at that time. So much pain has passed under the bridge since then that I hardly recognize myself. I want to go back to those days where I could still hold and care for my daughter.
Vacations and videos from the past five years are devoid of Jordan. We are making lots of new memories without her. Blake and I do plan to travel separately with her when she reaches a stable point, but that’s not the same as a yearly family vacation. Interacting with the boys is problematic for her, especially for Britten who has no memories of Jordan at home. His concept of “sister” is very loose. She’s somewhat of a baffling stranger to him.
I think these incidents and items have affected my psyche in a way that I have not been consciously aware of. I try to keep my deep musings about Jordan to a minimum for sanity and happiness’ sake. We all face unimagined or unimaginable pain. We do our very best to keep it controlled and put on a happy face. Sometimes something out of the blue causes that mask to slip and reminds us how little control we really have over our lives. Pain is part of life whether we like it or not. It has changed me, some for the worse, some for the better.
I am grateful to have a space in which to examine my thoughts and feelings in the hopes of helping others who struggle with similar challenges. I often feel very much alone but know in truth that I am not. Everybody has a story.
~ tlc
