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Waking Up in the Middle of Nowhere by Allison Johnson
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Waking Up in the Middle of Nowhere

Related story by Allison: Loving Someone with Bipolar Disorder

 
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The National Institute of Mental Health

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The National Alliance on Mental Illness

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Celebrate Recovery

 
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More from Allison at her website:  www.ResurrectedGirl.com

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Waking Up in the Middle of Nowhere

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HOPE AND HEALING

Waking Up in the Middle of Nowhere: Chapter One

By Allison Johnson
Guest Writer

CBN.com(An excerpt from Waking Up in the Middle of Nowhere, Chapter One: Freefalling)

What I expect to be real isn’t.  I try to cling to the tattered edges of reality, desperately grasping for anything that might make things right again. I flail around clutching at the air, clawing for anything to help me.  Some small branch, a twig, anything…I can’t see but I know I’m freefalling into a dark black pit where the fire burns all around. The air is thick and hot, my chest is heavy, and I can’t breathe. The flames lick my feet, teasing my clothes, caressing my body, mocking my predicament, laughing at me. I’m trapped, falling fast, surrounded by fire but I don’t get burned.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. Psalm 23:4

[San Antonio, TX] Tuesday August 16, 2005
6:25am CST

“Good bye,” Grant whispered into my ear as I struggled to wake myself from a sound sleep. He kissed me lightly on my lips as my eyes opened. I quickly wrapped my arms around his neck whispering, “I love you. Have a good trip.” He nodded, and I watched as he quietly left our bedroom. He was heading for Dallas for the next twenty-four hours. I couldn’t help but wonder if it wasn’t a good thing. I flopped back down on the pillows for a moment, glancing at the clock, it was 6:25. I still had five minutes before the kids would be up for their second day of second grade. I tried to close my eyes and rest, but a familiar tide of melancholy washed over my heart as I began mulling over the previous night’s argument.

I didn’t understand what was happening to us; it seemed like all we did was fight lately. There was nothing I knew to say that made anything better; in fact, whatever I tried just made things worse. It was always the same old thing: I didn’t appreciate him, he was just a meal ticket, and I was never going to understand how hard he worked to make me happy. I sighed, and rolled over…staring out the window for a moment before I decided to shake it off and hop out of bed.

We had always worked things out before; there was no reason for me to think we wouldn’t work this one out now. I promised myself I would pray, seek God’s guidance, and continue to ask Him to show me where I was wrong. I knew it was important to Grant to respect and honor him, and definitely I loved him. It just felt so hard. I wanted to show him how much I appreciated all he did, but I didn’t know how. Last night’s argument had been a bad one and I was scared.

As I wandered out to start the coffee in the kitchen I could hear Zach and Kayla moving about in their rooms. They were still excited about starting second grade. They were such great kids, and I knew they would be running down here any second, bursting with excitement to hurry up and get out the door. If I could stall them for a few minutes, I might be able to quickly check my email before we ate breakfast. I met both of them at the top of the stairs and instructed them to go make their beds and put their dirty clothes away. “Mommy is going to check her email. Why don’t you guys come to the game room when you’re finished, and then we’ll go downstairs together.” They groaned, but raced each other back to their rooms to see who could make their bed the fastest. I chuckled as I sat down at my computer; man, I didn’t want them to grow up.

6:43am CST Tuesday

I wiggled the mouse, and the screen saver popped up. As I rolled the cursor to my outlook express icon, I noticed several minimized icons at the bottom of the page. Huh, I wonder what happened here. Maybe one of the kids had been playing on the computer last night and I didn’t notice it. Oh well, that’s easy enough: I’ll just close these out before I open my email. I could hear the kids chattering to each other; it would only be a moment before they came racing in. I better hurry up.

With a click of my mouse the first icon expanded on my screen. I was expecting Dora the Explorer or Disney Channel, but I caught my breath in surprise and horror, my brain struggling to comprehend what I was looking at. The website was filled with tombstones and grave markers, and at the very front of the page was a gray, sculpted tombstone of beautifully hewn marble, inscribed, Grant Johnson, July 17, 1970- August 2005. My heart pounded in my ears, and my stomach began to churn.

Numbly, now, I clicked the next icon. A coffin. A beautifully crafted oak-colored coffin with cream satin lining was featured on the page. What kind of cruel joke is this? I couldn’t fathom what I was seeing; this couldn’t be real. My hands were shaking as I expanded the final icon. Exploding onto my screen were the Air Force Academy guidelines to be buried on Academy grounds. Grant’s name was filled in as the deceased.

I fought the urge to vomit as stomach bile filled the back of my throat. Blinded by tears, I choked back the sobs that were clutching at my throat. I could hear the voices of my children in their rooms down the hall, sunlight was drifting in through the window blinds, coffee was in my mug, and I was staring at a computer screen decorated with cryptic messages of my husband’s death. None of it made sense to me, none of it at all. I quickly minimized the icons and tried to breathe again. Fire flickered around the edges of my vision, and my head was filled with the sounds of my own voice screaming, “Oh Dear God, Oh Dear God!”

Something switched inside of me as I jumped out of the chair: I must get my kids to school. I cannot fall apart right now. I have to get through the next thirty minutes. A saying from my Healing Hearts class drifted into my consciousness, “When you don’t know what to do, do normal things.” I said it again, and I kept repeating it to myself in my head while I made Zach and Kayla’s breakfast. Do normal things.

I spread peanut butter on bread, smeared jelly on the other, slapping them together to make a sandwich. Normal things. I fed the dog. I brushed Kayla’s hair. I made myself another cup of coffee. Normal things. I helped them pack their backpacks, gave a quick instruction on shoelace tying for Zach, and tried to suppress the hysterical voice inside.  “Finish your breakfast, Kayla. Brush your teeth, Zach,” a forced smile on my face. Meanwhile, I made a quick call to my friend Martha, “Do you think you could stop by my house on your way to work, I’ve got something I need to show you?”

When I hung up, I continued with normal. It was automatic now. I smiled at my neighbors, made chitchat with one of the mothers at the school gate. Just keep doing normal. I even took Yukon for a walk, grabbed a shower, and decided that today was definitely a no-makeup kind of day. But despite my best attempts at normalcy, my entire body was quaking, my head pounding, and icy tentacles of fear were gripping my heart so tightly that I knew something was terribly, terribly wrong. I had little idea of what to do…and no idea what was coming next.

Waking Up in the Middle of Nowhere by Allison JohnsonOrder Allison's Book: Waking Up in the Middle of Nowhere

Related story by Allison: Loving Someone with Bipolar Disorder

More from Allison at her website:  www.resurrectedgirl.com

Check out Allison's blogs:  www.wakingupinthemiddleofnowhere.blogspot.com and www.resurrectedgirl.blogspot.com

Resources

The National Institute of Mental Health

The Depression and Bi-Polar Support Alliance

The National Alliance on Mental Illness

Overcomer’s Outreach

Family Life Conference

Celebrate Recovery


Grant and Allison JohnsonAllison Johnson cares deeply about Christian women’s issues which she addresses through her speaking and writing ministry. She is a Certified Life Coach, having received her training from the Center for Coaching Excellence. Allison has served as a group facilitator for numerous Bible studies and women’s groups. She lives in San Antonio, Texas, with her husband Grant, her two children, and her big yellow dog Yukon. She is currently working on her first novel. More from Allison at her website:  www.resurrectedgirl.com

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