The pre surgery madness continues and I'm so thankful that it comes in stages. Never has the necessity of quiet been clearer in my life as I try to keep all the pieces together in some semblance of chaos. Would say order but I've long ago given up hope of ordering anything but a meal in a restaurant.
So what do I know?
For no reason whatsoever my level of frustration is at the max. It feels like any moment the top of my head may blow off and I'll go running down the street screaming at the top of my lungs. Not because of anything in particular. Just pure unadulterated frustration. How did I get here? The never ending question that breaks my heart over and over and over again. Then, in a brief moment, the still small voice whispers, it will get better, hang in there, you will walk again, you will cook again, you will bend, dance, have a life ........... again.
Oft times when I silence my mind, there are pictures, short movie trailers that speak some sought after truth. Those minutes of peace where I rest in confidence pondering one of my favorite sayings: it will be ok in the end, and if it's not ok then it's not the end. Brief moments that once again feel like a warm ray of sunshine on my cheek reminding me that it's time to rest.
All this to say, those smart monks were on to something as was Frankie Valle when he sang ..... "Silence is golden but my eyes still see".
The break this time is coming in the form of a moratorium on talking. Yup, you heard it right. Caroline who loves to talk is cutting off verbal communication in hopes of saving what is left of my threadbare relationships. My person reached new heights of frustration and crazy behavior this week. And as I count down the days until my third surgery in fifteen months one might wonder how much more amplified this bizarre behavior may become? If anyone had been brave enough to tell me what my life would look like in 2014, I'd have had to hurt them.
It's been awhile since I've written and that's simply because I've tried to adhere to the philosophy that if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all. Recently my days have resembled scary scenes off the worst reality show you can imagine. Oh dear god, I pray the batteries on my mouth would run out. There's a crazy woman loose and she's lurking waiting for the next victim to unravel on.
Daily my struggle entails, why am I here; how did I end up here; what have I done to deserve this; if I create my reality, I need some art classes. All those placating sayings that are meant to bring hope and joy, fall flat in times like these. A few short weeks ago the discussion with my therapist centered around why am I still here. And I truly meant what I said. What is keeping me here. Although the answer eludes me, there have been days where one simple ray of sunshine shines through and warms my face, reassuring me that indeed there are better days to come.
I'm afraid. Actually, I'm terrified. Traditionally fear was something I ran at, faced so it no longer controlled or scared me. These days, even this pillar is failing. The past two surgeries I have been sicker than ever in my life. Apparently my body rejects anesthetic resulting in screaming headaches and projectile vomiting. Even my simple bodily functions have their own agenda. It is too difficult to look past this pain to see the healing on the other side. So with surgery number three glaring down at me one doesn't even have to aim to hit my crazy button.
So Dear Life, enough is enough!!! I need a break, please?!
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