You’ll want to read Sarah’s side first.
After six long months of the ups and downs of panic attacks, depression, and disordered thinking, the day Sarah went to the hospital actually provided a new sense of hope. That being said, the post-traumatic range of emotions following a mental health crisis is not pleasant. Also, in a way that is difficult to explain, each time Sarah would have an episode, I always wondered if I’d get my wife back. This all weighed on me as I held our son on the couch in our living room, the house now quiet after the commotion. Looking at our family pictures on the walls, filled with smiles and affection, I cried as I worried about what the future held.
Amidst this, I found myself thinking through the many ways that the crisis had avoided becoming a catastrophe. I quickly identified many specific things that happened that if any one of them had occurred differently could have made that morning tragic. I probably had my best attitude about this ordeal that morning in between my sobs.
Soon the other kids were waking up and life continued minus Sarah. I tried the best I could to explain that mom was going to be gone for a little while getting better from her “hormone thingie” as they called it, avoiding any details of the crisis (another little miracle being that none of the kids saw anything).
This being a Sunday morning, we dressed for church and continued with our day. M sang a song with a friend for the congregation, while I accompanied on the piano. I waited to hear what was going to happen with Sarah.
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