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I Made It

I've been overly emotional this Easter weekend. I didn't understand why. This was going beyond my normal "I'm a Christian and this weekend is the very reason I can be saved" emotions.
Where were the sudden tears coming from? I didn't even feel them building up. Why?
A gentle reminder of how far I've come in the past two months came in the form my Savior's voice.
The past two months have been difficult. Looking for a full time job, buying a house, moving, our entire lives being turned upside down. Yeah, that's hard.
Then I saw it.... I've been happy. I have peace again. I have regained my joy. I had no idea I was so depressed while being a houseparent. I suspected it, but didn't realize the magnitude. I cried every night for six months straight. The slightest, easy conversation sent me into a tail spin. I felt so deeply the wounds of the young people that I was attempting to help that I suffered from what is known as Secondary Trauma. Secondary Trauma is when the caregiver of a traumatized child begins to take on the emotional aspects of the trauma inflicted on the child. I could not function because of the deep hurt that these kids had been through. It made me useless to really help. I sought counseling, to no avail. It helped for a mere few hours. I was angry. Hurt. Sad. I felt utterly alone. No one talks about the toll houseparenting can take on you. It's a taboo subject. You focus on the kids' struggles, not your own. There is no training for dealing with your personal struggles of helping traumatized kids.
The only time I was half way alright was during praise and worship at church. We rarely attended with our schedule.
My prayers were like bricks, falling to the ground as soon as they left my mouth.
Then suddenly, it was over. I was released from my obligations as a houseparent. Of course, I didn't stop loving these kids, but I removed myself from the middle of their emotional needs. I've recovered over the last two months. Mostly through my relationship with Jesus, but also with the unconditional love of my family and best friend. People that could say "I don't understand what you went through but I'm not giving up on you. You are not a bad person. You went through a bad time."
Brad. Keirsey. My dad. My Mom. My Stepmom. My Sister. My best friend, Jessica.
I'm over the worst. I've got a new start.
This weekend, Easter, is the manefestation of new beginnings. And my gratefulness is shown through the emotions I feel of realizing that I made it past a severe time of depression. I made it.

I made it.

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