Of my said incident which took place in the wee hours of Monday morning, literally taking all of the very little energy I was reserving to start the week, and swallowing it whole....it is time to move on. How many times do I have to tell you that? In every circumstance or position you may be in, you have to move on when unintending sources attack.
Yes, when your good intentions are seen as flaws, you should move on.
When your flaws are seen as mountains, and proclaimed on the mountain tops (or behind closed doors where you can hear the whispers), you must move on.
When you are sick...again...and all you can do is grind your teeth and get through another fever, another ache, and another day, you have to move on.
When you think not for what someone else does with their lives because you are so consumed with trying to fix all the crap holes you created in your own life, but your crap holes look more interesting to talk about to the world than theirs...yes, I guess it's still time to move on.
But what about the times when you can hardly look a person in the eye for fear they are going to ask you that question no one really wants to know the answer to anyhow? You know, the three worded reflex we have when people come around--"How are you?" Be honest, you start to cringe because if the honest you was answering that question, you would be stuck in a three hour therapy session about how well you are NOT!
And what about the moment you wake, and it's been the 4th day in a row now that you wake and can hardly keep the tears from drenching your face because....here we go again. The trials are still there, working away in the very front of your mind trying to make you believe you are the real problem in your life, and if you went away, it would all be okay.
What if you walk around the house doing the basics to survive...another lunch made, another dish washed, and another load of laundry sits waiting to be folded on the living room chair...and all you can think about is, SLEEP...one more hour, maybe even a full day, of sleep. You count down the hours as though your home life is the most awful dreaded job you have been forcefully working for years. This isn't my job though--this is my calling, the thing that once brought me an incredible amount of joy. Yet, when sleep comes, the pain is gone, and so you count to those hours by the second at times. Then you find yourself in that illusive state of being and of course, the nightmares invade that beloved dimension, and you wake every few hours wondering how to escape each hell you are oscillating between--life and the pseudo death we call sleep. Your nightmares most likely mimic things you have suffered through, or things that haunt you in "what if" scenarios every day.... and I guess mine do too--often, I am too late to save my child who has just fallen onto the tracks of a moving train and I am left screaming in agony, falling to my knees after I have sprinted to the very place she fell at. Sometimes, I am alone, to travel on foot with the five children that I have born, alone, without food, money, or a place to lay our heads in the dreary hot desert--feeling hopeless.
And then, what if this nightmare of a life continued for months at a time. (Thankfully it doesn't.) What if you suddenly stop recognizing the beautiful confident person you stood in front of the mirror and groomed because she now looks like a train wreck from nights of tears...swelling eyes shut...to nights of wakefulness, creating lonely voids where the eyes of happiness and hope once resided.
Is is easy then to say....you must move on? It's not easy, but indeed necessary.
I walked through my home after becoming very ill on Saturday morning. I had been working so hard in the last several weeks, filling shift after shift for the nurses who were on their nice long vacations--and trying to take care of myself, but that only goes so far when you are left to maintain school routines, meals, transportation, and so on. My only night off between shift stretches was Friday, and fate would have me come down with a respiratory illness that has become common to my existence--unpleasant, but common. On Saturday morning, I woke aspirating. I had come close to aspirating many times after my long stretches without sleep, but I had always avoided that dreadful feeling of completely topping off your bronchi with fluid. This time, I did it...the exhaustion was too much, the sickness was there already, and it happened....my entire airway filled with fluid that had crept up my esophagus, and the natural healthy reflexes we usually have to protect our airways came a little too late. I found myself running to my bathroom to hack out my lungs, literally. In the process, I gathered my nursing assessment bag and listened to my lungs and breath sounds...they were tight and there was awful raspy fluid that filled every exhale....the type I hear on some of my worst pneumonia or cystic fibrosis patients. I knew I had done some damage, but I continued to cough until I was left with little energy, took cold medications, and retired to bed again. I spent the entire day in bed. I had made several attempts to get up, but my body felt like it was shutting down. I slept through the entire day, woke feeling so delirious and confused, angry and frustrated all at once. I didn't realize it until I got a shower before heading to work that I was in a full blown respiratory illness, aching body, chills to indicate a rising fever, and a lethargic feeling i haven't felt in years. I laid in bed for a few final moments before going to work, and after walking to and fro where my children and husband were happy, laughing, and enjoying life, I literally felt that for the first time in my life I could disappear, and it wouldn't make a difference. Honestly, I felt that if I were gone, everyone would be happier because they wouldn't have to deal with my draining presence, I thought of how I could just leave...relieve them of the burden I feel I create at times through my trials. This is called "life" and it's molding process, and this phase has been full of intense heat. Don't worry, it comes to all of us who live a good number of years.
But then...I had an image of how the happy family in the living room wouldn't be quite so happy anymore...because somewhere, even in the places nobody can see, I hold this little family together. Even when I feel I am the explosion about to ruin it's existence, there always seems to be something that says "mom".
It's in these moments that I recall that after long months of suffering, I will have these smiles with the kids again....it is me who plans the dates and tells them of how amazing they are, even when I believe I am nothing but a failure.
Days like today are a dime a dozen, they come far too often and in ways I cannot even describe. Yet, days like those pictures above are worth waiting for...they are my pearls that will one day be strung into a necklace fit for a queen. I just need to get to that day when it will be given to me.
Godspeed to all Mums wading through the pain.
To all sufferers of heartache and pain.
Therefore, to all.
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