I was not expecting to get a scar across my stomach the day my son was born. He was delivered by emergency C-section during one of the most traumatic events of my life. Looking back I’m amazed how God carried him through, and how our story ended with a healthy (and strong!) baby in our arms. I’m still in awe.
I was overdue with both of my pregnancies, so his birth story began in similar way to my daughter’s. We scheduled an induction for the 15th of January.
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This week I’ve read words on the internet about the state of our nation. I’ve read Instagram posts, Facebook rants, and Twitter snapshots. I’ve been inspired by some, and saddened by others. Can we agree that, if we let it, the internet can get awfully loud?
Can we agree it’s been a long year?
We drew some hard lines in the public arena – black/white, police/civilian, Trump/Clinton, and so many more. We egged each other on to pick sides and then digitally threw rocks at them if they choose wrong.
Can we agree we’ve been through a lot?
Before 2016 many of us didn’t know the names Philando Castile, Brock Turner, and Chief David Brown. But we do now. And the cities Dallas, Orlando, Nice, and Aleppo mean something different than they did last year.
Can we agree we are hurt?
We have woken up to horrific news story after news story. Our country is in trauma. Together. We are hurt. We have been hurt and we are hurting.
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The day my son was born was supposed to be planned and organized. But 10 hours into trying to induce labor, our doctor suddenly discovered the cord was prolapsed and it was cutting off his oxygen supply. Ten hours of boredom and reality TV turned quickly into getting whisked to the operating room in less than a commercial break.
I laid on my back watching ceiling tiles and florescent lights blur as I was frantically rushed down the hall. The once mundane was now high stakes. I heard panicked voices of trained professionals. I asked my doctor “Is he okay?” so many times until she couldn’t answer me anymore because she didn’t know the answer. I listened to my alarmed anesthesiologist lose his composure as he walked in to discover the C-section had started without him.
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Can we agree that this year we needed counselors, not competitors? We need doctors, not opponents. What we needed after shots rang out in Dallas, after lives were lost at an Orlando night club, after we watched that Facebook Live, after we saw images from war-torn Syria – were counselors. We needed people to help heal our hearts. What we got was a brutal election year.
Words of disagreement trigger us. Our thoughts are hijacked. We are hurt by the ‘first draft’ emotions on social media. As a nation, we are traumatized. The thing is, we can’t ignore our wounds. They are open and they are bleeding.
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My son was born quickly and traumatically. I went under wondering if I would wake up and have a healthy son. My chest pounded with anxiety and panic. I woke up hours later and one of the first noises I could hear was him crying. He was there. He was safe. He was loud.
I erupted into tears after I was wheeled back into my hospital room. I was cut open in more ways than one. My doctor looked at me and rubbed my arm. She asked if I was in pain. I wasn’t in physical pain, no. But my mental state was catching up to me. The last thing my body and mind remembered was the panicked minutes before surgery, blurred ceiling tiles, and my cussing anesthesiologist.
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This year has been a blur to us in more ways than one. Maybe your chest pounded with anxiety when you watched the news. Maybe reading post after post, has made social media more panicking than entertaining. Maybe you erupted into tears in the middle of church service because you weren’t in physical pain, no, but in mental anguish.
So, what now?
We need to call it like it is. Our viewpoints have been shifted, enlightened, and challenged in 2016. There are things that have affected us at a deep emotional level that we cannot un-see, un-read, or un-feel. We have been traumatized.
I have a scar now that’s five inches long from my son’s C-section. I’m not one bit ashamed. It’s part of my story. I remember a few people in my life were curious about my wound as it was healing. My body was battling to heal, and I bravely showed off my taped up wounds as proof. I’m proud of my scar and the healing it represents.
I believe, as individuals who make up this nation, we are battling to heal. It’s time to show each other our wounds. It’s time to be vulnerable instead of defensive. It’s time to recognize we are hurting as we are healing. Can we agree our nation is traumatized? Let’s be brave enough, vulnerable enough, and strong enough to battle to heal together.
Beautiful sentiment Andrea. We must reach out to one another.
Andrea,
I do not know how I came upon this blog (are we still calling them that?) but I want to say you are right on. I think, in the busyness that is the “Internet,” we have forgotten that we are people with a soul. We feel, we hurt, and we do have, in some cases, gaping wounds. So what does this mean for the future? Healing is the goal but I think we find, in society, there is need for connection so great we fail to notice relationships, even those digital, that destroy everything we are trying to heal.
Let me try explaining it as I have been affected. I started this campaign season really liking one guy. I pushed for him, fought on social media for him, and defended his choices. I was truly inspired like I never before. Then the primary happened and my guy lost. I was okay with the loss because it is the system we live by. I did not think I was wounded or hurt from the loss and never expected to be hurt when explaining to both my digital and flesh and bone friends that I was not for either establishment this season.
While all of this was happening, my work relationships started to slide in a direction I was not comfortable with. I found that racism is alive and well but not in the form I was conditioned to recognize. I found myself in uncomfortable conversations that I had to either end or walk away from.
All of this weighed on me, changing my healthy discord into bitter arguing with the intention of winning over unity. I found myself caring less about the person and more about changing their, in many cases, deeply held beliefs or principles. I was a one man wrecking ball and my family was not off limits to my destructive trajectory.
I am remiss if I do not admit I was not aware of the change. This part of me that had died a little and was killing as a result. I did not recognize this issue within me until the days that followed the election. I had little to say and mostly ranted about the changing demographics and riots that plagued our large cities. I had lost my motive for social media.
I am long winded here but it brings me to my point. We must be there for those we agree and disagree with. When we only look at those opinions and views that agree with us we fail, as a human, to see our affect on those around us. We must see each other, not only our views. While this is happening there must be a change that happens in each of our lives that leads us off the destructive path we were on. I am not saying we must ignore social media, print and television media, or blogs but rather be aware we are vulnerable to sensationalism. We are emotional beings and media tends to play on those emotions. If we want to heal we can not dwell with that which is hurting us.
I have stepped away from media to a certain extent and am praying for those who have felt they needed to separate from my social media accounts. I understand I was a tool of hurt and separation will bring healing. We must also respect those boundaries. The systems in our life may never change but they will never change if we do not.
Thanks for the post,
Todd
Todd, I loved reading your thoughtful reply. Thank you for sharing a bit of your story. Your ‘wounds’ look completely different than mine and that’s encouraging and widened my view. And yes, we need to “see each other, not only our views.” Like you, I hope this next year many of us recognize our hurt so we are able to heal and, as you said, not dwell with what is hurting us.