Excerpt from Dr. Katherine L. Olson in REFUGE: Voices of Courage & Resilience for a Fractured World (Collector’s Edition) is a full-color anthology of essays, poetry and visual art created for a moment such as this—when the world feels divided and dangerously off course.
And so, I sat in the in-between, feeling the embers of my hope flicker faintly, the wreckage of our lives in ashy shambles around me.
After I de-escalated her, when the adrenaline and cortisol flooding her body—and mine—finally quieted, I returned to waiting.
Waiting for the next scream, the next flailing arm, the next sign that I might need to jump into protection mode.
The waiting appears calm, but it feels like being swallowed in darkness.
Our puppy was neutered yesterday and is sporting a bright blue cone that makes him look like a canine jester.
He needs rest and minimal movement, but he wants to run and play and wiggle out of the uncomfortable restraint around his neck.
I wonder what kind of rest I would need to rehabilitate.
I wonder how you heal from trauma when your body feels abused and the blows are coming from your own child.
Sometimes, I want to rip off the restraints that bind me, run out the front gate, and never look back.
Yet the truest part of me wants to stay and help my family heal, help my baby feel peace in her body as many times as possible, until it’s wired in her brain like a warm cup of tea or a tender embrace.
I want her to be able to find it without me, and long after I am gone.
