And I felt like my
heart had been so thoroughly and irreparably broken that there could be no real
joy again, that at best there might eventually be a little contentment.
Everyone wanted me to get help and rejoin life, pick up the pieces and move on,
and I tried to, I wanted to, but I just had to lie in the mud with my arms
wrapped around myself, eyes closed, grieving, until I didn’t have to anymore. [Anne
Lamott, Operating Instructions: A Journal of My Son's First Year]
I’m in a very strange-to-me place. I’m sure it’s the chemo,
but after a time I sort of lost touch with the edges of me. I find day and
night interchangeable and the only difference I can grasp is how bright the
daylight seems…
I understand about side effects and the weird-ass way that
they parade, but I am tired of feeling that even the thought of certain things
is enough to make me need to lie down and hold onto something. It feels a
little like my auto-pilot brain is navigating through a swampland.
And then, I realise that this may well BE my intended Experience.
So I try to keep holding on by just NOT letting go. No.
Matter. What.
No one promised it would BE easy.
I love you, Currie
2 comments:
Your art is very expressive of your feelings today. Hugs my friend.
Never give up. Even when it feels like there is only a thin thread to grasp on to. Yes! Never give up. *hugs*
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