Monday, October 7, 2013

wishing for the woods

I am so tired.  I feel numb and hollow and lost.  I hate going to sleep at night because I know it will bring another day that I have to fight my way through.  I can't keep up with anything.  I have this friend who is a lawyer and several years back she was in a horrible car accident.  This was before we met.  They didn't know if she would live.  After recovering, she had so much pain for so long, they ended up needing to do this operation to implant a device that sends pain medication through her system at regular intervals.  You would never know there was anything wrong with her.  Plus, her third and youngest son is one of the kids that has the type of peanut allergy that, when combined with his asthma, could kill him, and almost has on several occasions. 

What this seems to have done is create this very intelligent woman who has a huge heart and a phenomenal talent for saying the right things at the right times.  At least to me.  I remember when John was first diagnosed, she used to pick up Aiden and take him to preschool with her two boys ever day.  One day, I got Aiden to the door and things were crazy as I was trying to get stuff organized to get John to NIH for his chemo and we weren't even close to being ready...she stopped me and told me in this amazing and awe struck tone that I get the kids waffles for breakfast every day and keep things going.  I was all "yeah, and?"  She told me that was huge.  That it was normal and one of the hardest things ever when you are dealing with they type of thing we were dealing with.  I had never thought of that.  She stopped me in my tracks.  Something in her eyes made me take the compliment, even though I didn't really get it, and something in her voice gave me a deep comfort. 

And now I get it...the fact that I am getting them their V8 Fusion every day, that I talk about getting protein and fiber and things like that, even when dinner is not so stellar (most nights), that I give them whole food vitamins...that we have clean (albeit unfolded) laundry at all...these things are so huge.  Gargantuan.  Because all I want to do is find a rock to crawl under.  No, some woods to go hide in. 

I want to set up a tent with no one around for miles.  I want to hike so far that my legs buckle, I want to be in the middle of nowhere so I can take my shirt off if I want and feel the wind and sun on my body.  I want to be rained on.  I want to get my hands and feet all dirty and muddy.  I want to have the smell of green things filling my nostrils and my pores.  I don't want to have anyone to talk to.  I want to be able to cry to the stars and even wail and not worry about who hears.  I want to strip and swim naked at night with the moon shimmering wavy on the water...I want to hide.  And I don't get to. 

So I write.  And stare, and struggle to find my smile.  And put one foot in front of another.  Over and over.
something like this could be a good choice...