Through it all

I have endured nightmares for as long as I can remember. I have been attacked in the night for countless years. Through therapy and years of self- reflection, I have come to believe these nightmares are the result of trauma. Trauma at an early age that has followed me and plagued my dreams. Sleep is so difficult for me, but strangely enough only at night.  During the day, I can nap like a boss. There is something about the cover of night that brings about a restlessness that is difficult to overcome.

Often, I wake up in physical discomfort. My body seemingly fights the battle raging while I “sleep”.  Early this morning I woke in a sheen of sweat. My head was pounding, my hands and toes were clenched, my back was seizing, my legs and arms cramping.  My breathing erratic; as if all the air was seemingly sucked from the room.  But “grander earth has quaked before”.

This is nothing new to me; and become something even my husband has learned to comfort me through. It is simply a reality. I am blessed to have a love that seems to know just what to do. He effortlessly rubs my body, retrieves cold water, and is even learning what essential oils to bring me. He often does not speak a word.  Over the years, it has transformed into a silent dance between us.

After Nathan passed away this dance between us became more frequent. The intensity of the nightmares increased. The physical reaction, sharp and agonizing. But we soldier on. I know what you are thinking; “My God Sam!”. Yes, my God indeed. I do not endure this because I am strong. I am not a champion, nor a martyr. I consider this nothing compared to what others endure. Many of them endure while awake. This evil attacks them during waking hours.  I consider myself blessed through it all. This “bravery” does not come from within myself. It is a spiritual gift, only achieved through God.

I have also come to believe that my nightmares are a form of a spiritual attack.

Not all of my friends, loved ones, and readers are believers. You come from all walks and faiths. However, I must proclaim what I know is true. I believe in God, and subsequently, in the Devil. I know they exist because I have met them both.

 I have met with Christ in indescribable ways. The best I have been able to articulate, is His presence the night I learned of Nathan’s passing. He washed over me and covered me in a “peace blanket” of sorts. It was a supernatural experience for me. God revealed himself to me in a way that was beyond real.  He made himself physically tangible to me. I know it was Him because He is who I cried out to. I have cried out to Him countless times before, and He has come. But this particular time, He knew I needed evidence of His protection. He knew the warfare for my mind had begun, and he showed Himself in a big way.  Remembering the realness of God in this moment, is breathtaking. It is a moment that stayed with me for many, many days. It still covers me today. While the supernatural element has faded, the physical calm is ever present. I really do feel His holy spirit. It speaks to my heart without a single audible note.

Warfare of the mind is a devil in and of itself. The Devil does not appear to us with scarlett skin, and horns, but I promise you that He does indeed breath fire. He breathes it into our minds. He attacks us with a raging heat of despair. I have met the Devil. I met Him at an early age. He has been relentless in His pursuit. He has poked and prodded my mind; urging me to reconsider my faith. He has dug his proverbial talons into the flesh of my ankle, as I clawed to the top of the pit. Simply put, He is as real as you and I. He does not come to us with smoke and mirrors as there is no magical element to His existence.  He reaches into our minds because that is where we are most vulnerable. He is not a cartoon on the shoulders of society, but He does indeed whisper into our ears. He whispers a darkness more powerful than that of any physical presence. Suicide, acts of violence, hatred in its darkest of forms, is His thumbprint. And so, because He has failed to sway my faith, He attacks me while I sleep.

However, He does not have power over me. My body even know this; as it fights for me during the night. The fight is temporary even though it comes over and over and over. Eventually my body relaxes. Eventually there is reprieve. It is temporary even though He is relentless in his advances. My mind is similar to a glass of water. He attacks the glass at every angle, but He cannot penetrate. My glass mind is shaken, even tipped over at times. But not an ounce of water escapes. He has power, but is powerless all at the same time.  My faith, my God, is impenetrable. Not because of myself mind you, but because I am not my own. I am a child of God. You cannot defeat that, no matter how much you shake me. You can crack my glass, but it will not leak.  I cannot be separated from God. You would think he would have learned that by now.  This must be why He attacks me at night; because He is a clueless, coward underneath it all.

 I believe that is why I was gifted the ability to write. From an early age, I have been able to speak on paper; words that otherwise would be suppressed. What my mouth cannot utter seems to flow effortlessly onto the page. I praise God for this gift. It has no doubt been my saving grace. It is how I fight back. I write these words, and I share them with you, and you hopefully share them with others. Hopefully the raw, honesty impacts you in a way that gives you strength to fight when you are attacked.

I believe that the transparency of my inner struggles are not for nothing. My struggles and nightmares do not have power over me. God uses them to plant seeds in the lives of others. When I say “If it helps at least one person, then it is worth it”, I am sincere. If my words give even one of you the courage to fight, then I am grateful. Because, you see, they are not my words. My glass is not my own. My water does not spill because it is not my water. I find this refreshing. I am not in control, but that does not mean I do not have the power to impact lives.

Your story, your pain, your loss, can be used for great things. There can be life after pain. There is a life worth living. Losing a child is by far the most agonizing trauma of my life. There is never a moment my heart does not ache for my boy. However, the ache is temporary. One day I will be reunited. One day I will see that through it all, God had a purpose. I believe when my day comes, God will reveal all the lives changed by sharing Nathan and the journey with you. I believe because I have seen. I have seen without the human eye. I have seen through a shaken glass, that has never, ever, failed to be full. Through it all.