My SoulCollage Card--Go Fish
I am the one grasping at straws.
Holding on to the ugliness
because the ugliness needs holding.
I've got this, but I don't like this.
It's all that's left.
It's all I can do.
I stay covered
Because I have to.
Mind the snarl of my lip.
Note the look in my eye.
Oprah Winfrey said it best: the Universe speaks in whispers. In her words "a whisper in your life usually feels like 'hmm, that's odd.' Or, 'hmm, that doesn't make any sense.' Or, 'hmm, is that right?' It's that subtle." Then, if you don't get the message, it comes barreling at you like a freight train. Get the point or get run over; that's the way the story goes.
My beach trip was good, but emotional. On the one hand, it was great to get away and spend time with friends. On the other, it stirred up sadness and vulnerability (stuff stored DEEP in dark corners...it's had me speechless for days).
It started with a conversation with my friend Deb. There's no hiding with her...no casually saying 'I'm fine' or 'everything's ok.'
"How ARE you?" she asked, after I joked about passing another bunch of worms. Then, quietly, she looked deep into my eyes: "Does that scare you?"
For an hour, she pulled out all of the things weighing on my heart: How it's been a year, how exhausted I am, how I miss knowing what day it is, how desperate I feel, how mostly it seems I'm completely and utterly alone.
For a minute, I just died in her arms.
"I'll protect you from Boogeymen," I promised.
"And I will keep you safe from monsters under the bed," she answered.
To be understood by someone--especially by someone without Lyme--is such a gift. Each word soothed an ache in my soul. I SO needed to be nurtured. I SO needed to be loved. I didn't know how much I needed it until I returned home...
The last several days have been cold, distant, sad, and revealing. Despite kind blog posts or positive intentions, Angel and I are once again living in separate worlds. In his, he's tired of Lyme...tired of complaining...and wants a "normal" life. In mine, I want the same--a tough position to be in when you're constantly feeling horrible.
I don't know what this latest divide means for our marriage. Perhaps, it's a passing phase. Possibly, it's the byproduct of toxic medication. It could be fatigue, insensitivity, or grieving. Maybe, it's a whisper...just struggling to be heard.
Whatever the case, I am listening. One freight train's enough. I can't stand one more.
Altered Today: Reevaluating the light at the end of the tunnel