What support looks like

It is really easy to know what support isn't. Since my last post, I have had many conversations where people who have experienced their own or a family members abuse and there are multiple, heart-breaking stories of what hasn't happened in the form of support. Ours, unfortunately, is no different. When I began telling a potential new therapist what we were looking for and what we had been through to try and help our daughter, she looked as if she might breath fire from how angry she was. While validating that this shouldn't be the norm, it has been very easy the past few months to be hurt and angry over what hasn't happened or what has gone horribly wrong in the way of support. 

Yesterday, a friend asked me "What would support look like to you?" In the heat of the moment I couldn't say. I didn't know. All I could feel was the hurt and the injustice. I could make an extremely long list of what support isn't. It would be well written, citing actual what not to do situations. But I was reminded today of the ways that we have been supported and I am grateful for and want to remember those. 

Support is being able to walk out the door and ask neighbors to come within a moments notice to give blessings. 

Support is when I need to get to the doctor and my car engine is taken apart and they cant put the old piece back in because they broke it so I call a friend and she shows up with her baby to drive us to Bountiful and back.

Support is my mom showing up late one night, way out of her way, to bring flowers and love and cry with me.

Support is our home ward nursery leaders who loved our daughter and were patient and devoted as it took a long time for her to be able to even try to set foot in nursery again.

And support for my girl is when her friend comes and puts her arms around her as she cries on my lap in nursery.

Support is a school teacher and councilor that worked with our other daughter to help her have a safe place to process emotions.

Support is a friend picking that daughter up from school on the days that I sat in the waiting room while my 3 year old was interviewed. 

Support is a friend getting out of her sick bed on a rainy day to take me to get a sick from emotions kiddo because I didn't have a car that day.

Support is not questioning my frantic, anxiety attack driven self showing up in the middle of a play date with extra kids.

Support is being able to frantically message 3 friends for help and prayers and receive immediate responses and love.

Support is the friends that have written beautifully worded messages and continued a conversation, even when my skills at the written word have sucked. 

Support is friends that have and continue to listen to my anger and hurt spewing forth and haven't run away. 

Support is late into the night talks that aren't always pleasant, but help me process.

Support is family allowing a safe place to talk and recognizing triggers and helping us walk through them.

Support is all the offers that I don't know how to accept, but are still there.

When I stop to look at it, I feel very blessed for the support we have received. It doesn't negate the negative, but it does remind me how much good there is in the world. In my world.