Ten Feet of Space

My holiday is over. I can't say I am sorry. I have to go back to work tomorrow. I've sat in my pj's all day, pain virtually everywhere, with every move. I try and think of a time when I didn't hurt. And I can't remember it. Years I think. And it gets worse.

I have been writing as hard as I could because frankly, I would really not like another loss at this point. It may seem a small thing but it matters. I have a wonderful group of writer friends who have encouraged and propped me up for weeks now. I have until midnight tomorrow. I'm tired, though and I don't know if I'll get there. They all agree I've accomplished much and should be proud of myself for getting so far under the circumstances. They're such nice people. One of the girls said in an email to me that she thought it was divine intervention that had brought the five of us together. Since I believe in such things, I suspect she is right.

As I write this post, I am sitting listening to Hillsong in the dark. I had hoped it would life my spirits. It didn't. I'm depressed because today, I realized that I don't love my life much. Despite it being Thanksgiving holiday, I'm not very thankful. At least, I don't think so. I've noticed that the rain finally began a short time ago. I should be thankful since it means the pain may lessen. I guess I'm grateful for being alive but how selfish is that? I'm grateful I am able to meet my financial obligations. But thankful? I'm not certain anymore what that entails. I've tried not to think about this aspect of my circumstances. I suspect what I feel is quite common. I've tried very hard for months to come to terms with it. I found that it doesn't help. It is very difficult to say "thank you" for a black hole that was created in my life. Everything is sucked into it and not even light can escape. I don't know how to say thanks to that.

Today, I sat down, overwhelmed by some ache when I tried to get out of my chair and the words tumbled out without my even realizing I was thinking it. "I hate my life." It was mostly whispered and as soon as I said it a light went off in my head and I recognized it as the truth. I try to never lie to anyone.... even myself. So, I don't love my life or anything much about it. I looked around because I did not want Mike to hear me say it. He worries so much anyway. And after he left for church, I managed to write some more and push it all away. But eventually, cracks opened up and I lost my hold on it all.

I've fallen apart at such stupid things and tonight, it was just about pain and how there was no comfort, no relief, and no one to just hold my hand. I never realized how important that is. And I never really knew how much Jerry did that. I remember him asking me to ask the doctor for something to stop it. And I got mad with him. Because I couldn't take a pill strong enough to relieve the pain that would allow me to remain conscious to live my life. I couldn't understand why he couldn't understand that. I didn't realize how much pain he was in as well. Still he sat close by, silent, while I struggled to deal with it.

Tonight I sit in a room that is approximately 9x10. The realization came to me tonight that all that matters of all that we do or say can be found within ten feet of you. And we usually stay close to what we love. But we don't notice it. It is silent and we don't really notice. Unless at some point it disappears. A void opens up.

I suppose the answer would be to look around and see what is within ten feet of where you sit right now. Reach out and grab it. Don't let go. If you do, it will begin to drift away, beyond your reach. Until you can't reach it anymore.