It’s 3:00am and I have to write. Thoughts are streaming out of my head with the feelings of the last couple of weeks. They come in passing during the day but I push them to the back with my busyness. They come out now like mad soldiers and seem to say “you will hear and look at us now!” With much sadness I know I must surrender to listen and write.
These past couple of weeks have changed me physically and emotionally. They left new scars and created an even more sense of fragileness. Who knew? I was on a nice pedestal. It wasn’t one I chose but it was where I landed after the last earthquake that shattered my world – changing meds. It was not what I wanted but I had to work with what I had and make the best of my new normal.
That happened again these last couple of weeks. I was shaken off my pedestal and fell onto a new one. It is a little farther down and a little more scary. It is not as nice or as comfortable as the last one. I believe that is how this disease works. We find a place of comfort with something that works. Then out of the blue we are hit on the side of the head with change and swept off to a new place. It is unfair and scary. It is a reminder of how fragile our days are and of the aloneness of life. How I wish it could be different!
In these quiet hours, I reflect on the questions that have come up for me in the past. My biggest wonder is what is “true comfort”? What makes us feel safe and protected? It is the waking up from surgery and grabbing for a friend’s hand to hold and press up against my cheek to remind me I am safe and not alone. It is being able to rant and rave on the phone to a friend about my fears and the unfairness of life. They listen and emotionally hold me. No need to resolve or absorb these as they are just thoughts which need to be released from my body and absorbed by the universe. It is being heard when I say, “I am looking at pictures of my cherished childhood home and I miss my mom.” I miss that innocence and her presence. I want her to be here and to make everything better. Tears come to my eyes just writing that because of all people, I just want her. So I call to her in my heart and say prayers she can help me from heaven.
The road is much more bumpy and harder than I had ever imagined. Those fleeting moments filled with darkness, aloneness and fear are the hardest. Sometimes it feels like too much humanly possible so I offer it up to the highest power. It seems like an oxy moron for asking for help from the creator of all things. How can one create such strife and sorrow and still be the one to ask for help? Please don’t respond with your pat answers. You don’t know and neither do I! When this is over, I will find the real answers.
© Martha Naber 2016