I feel myself standing in a doorway, hovering. I can’t see what’s in the room I’m going into, but I can’t really go back to where I was. I’m standing here waiting to see what is, if it is. Part of me hopes I can close this door and move on to the next room. Part of me gets that regardless, this isn’t going to be an easy journey.
I belong to an online community. I used to be embarrassed to admit that, but I let that go years ago. This online family of friends has become a lifeline of support for me, not that I don’t have that locally as well. I have more resources than I can count. When anything goes on with my kids, I know that someone in the community has likely dealt with it, has gone to school for it, or knows who I can talk to or what I should read to help get me through it. That community has come through in spades again this week. I am thankful. It told my friends today that no matter what this new “room” holds for me, I know I am going into it with their cumulative knowledge and experience behind me.
I am afraid of the possibilities this room might hold. I know that I hope I don’t have to enter. It just holds so much work, so much stress. I know it isn’t as scary as it used to be, and I know I would not be alone. For now, I’m just hanging out in the doorway, but I already feel different. I found myself researching, gathering knowledge and resources, trying to figure out how I feel and what I think, wondering how this could affect our family. Regardless, whatever the diagnosis is or isn’t, it is part of the fabric of our family. For now, I have a plan. When we have answers, that plan will change accordingly. We’ll enter the room, or we’ll move to the next one. But those friends…..they are my windows in whatever room we end up in.