July62009
A leap of faith
I’m sick. Again. The fourth, fifth, sixth time since April? It’s hard to count when the “well” between not-wells lasts a few days, maybe a week, before the next round of coughs and fevers, stomache aches and missed days comes on. I worry it’s allergies, pretend I’ll tackle it by eating cleaner than I already do. No gluten, small meals, chemical-free. But the truth is, it’s just stress. I am worrying myself into a perpetual state of illness. And I have been through many a difficult thing in the last few years, but this, friends, cannot stand.
We back off, vow to give each other space, but it is always the same song, the same half-truths over and over. It is not that either of us means to hurt one another, but some things are just not good for anyone. I have weathered and waited, cried and cried. But this is the first time my body has put up a protest. We’re tired. We don’t want to fight anymore. Please stop.
It would be easier if there was something to do. Paths to tread, fights to win, negotiations to be made. But there’s nothing. Just leaving. Just saying goodbye. Just hoping that there is something better on the other side. Hoping I find my way there without getting swallowed whole by my own grief.
And that helplessness, that feeling of giving up is something I am not at all comfortable with. Something that makes me profoundly sad, because if I’m not fighting for something, then what the hell am I working towards? But maybe the work here is learning to be still, to accept and forgive. It’s a new kind of lesson for my overacheiver’s heart. To rest. I hope I can learn it well.
