This morning, I woke up to my husband putting a cup of coffee on my nightstand and touching my shoulder to remind me that today is my last day of classes at Florida State. As I sat up to drink my coffee in bed, I felt Pancho stir at my feet and look at me. He titled his head so that light from the hallway lit up his left ear. I smiled at him. He got up and moved up to my side, dropping like a pro-wrestler, but in the least elegant way possible, back down on the bed landing half on top of me and half on the bed. He then scooted so he was next to me, pressing his back into my side. He stretched his short legs, yawned and went back to sleep.
As Denny and I talked about our plans for today, he kept pausing, checking on me. He’s in protector mode. So is Pancho. And, this week…I welcome it. I think the most important thing I can do right now for those who love me, is let them.
Pancho is now wherever I am…he tries to get me to play with him and and snuggles more (if that’s possible)…he is always touching me in some capacity. When he goes outside waits on the deck for me to join him before going down the stairs. He wants me in his presence all the time. He’s a passive dog, but he keeps looking right into my eyes – that’s not easy for him, but he’s temporarly forgotten this because he is in protector mode.
Denny keeps looking at me too – just pausing. If you know my Denny, really know him then you’ve likely discovered he is stubborn, strong, opinionated, independent man. He will disagree with me about anything. I love that about him – he is his own, unique, beautiful person. But, this week – this week – he keeps agreeing with me. He is letting me be whatever it is I need to be. He’s in protector mode.
One week ago today we had an active shooter on campus at Florida State. People keep asking me how I am doing. The answer is impossible. I can’t really talk about it yet, but I can type. So, for those who’ve text or email me…I’ve answered. People all over the country have gotten random, emotional outbursts from me via text. It’s pretty amazing really. I can’t help but be curious about how I find myself experiencing physical trauma – and as my body feels – my words emote even if my voice cannot.
That’s trauma. I am still feeling the oppression of darkness – still hearing the sirens and first responders – still aware of how alone I was for 2.5 hours – still thinking how being alone (and not in a large group) makes me more vulnerable – still glad that my office is so far into the building – still worrying about others – mostly the students of FSU at the moment.
I know, when I experience trauma, my emergency training (thank you JCC of Metro Detroit) and my stage managment training (thank you Wayne State University) kicks into high gear as I start to try to find ways to ‘finish the show.’ This time though, I wasn’t in charge – so the feeling is different.
It’s more vulnerable. I’m used to being at the table. I’m used to leading. In a corner in the dark alone behind a barricaded door – that was new. So this trauma is new – it’s uncomfortable – it’s annoying. But, it’s still mine. Denny and Pancho see it. My family and friends see it. I know they do. They are helping in small ways, ways I can’t say thank you for quite yet.
Next week I defend my dissertation prospectus and turn in all the final grades for my classes. Until then, I keep moving forward. I suspect Denny will keep giving me coffee and letting me know why I need to get out bed every morning. I suspect Pancho will be glued to me. I suspect my friends in town will keep giving me space, inviting me to be with them, and understanding when I cannot. My family and remote friends will keep sending me messages and reminding me that they aren’t that far away if I need them. I think I will let them.
I think that’s part of being loved. When words fail me the best I can do for those I love and who love me…Let them.