Wednesday, March 11, 2015

Most Days

Most days, I just want to die. Most days, I swear I can feel my life force fading from the weakened grips of my wavering soul. Most days, it just hurts too much to want to breathe. And most days, there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.
It seems entirely impossible to describe to someone how it feels when the extreme range of pains and horrid sensations emanate from my skin through my bones, and from the top of my head to the bottoms of my feet. Literally. I’ve never been more aware of just how many body parts I have until now. There are so many places in my body that it doesn’t even make any sense to hurt. But it hurts nonetheless. There are places I didn’t even know could hurt. And trying to describe it to someone who gets rid of a headache with an Advil is like whispering into the wind. I would swear that the pain is this entirely whole living and breathing entity of its own. And that whenever it decides to change course, it literally points at my body saying, “Eenie, meenie, mynie, MO!”
People think I am weak, too sensitive, and just crazy. I’ve been told it’s all in my head, that I’ve created it, and that I can just think it away, pray it away, and happy-thought the pain to death. Yeah. Like I said, whispers in the wind.
So many times I’ve felt the need to describe to someone why I cannot stand, why I cannot sit, why I cannot walk, lay, stand to be touched, or even speak fluent coherent thoughts. My memory is worn out, I seriously don't remember something that happened 2 hours ago! I’ve tried to brief them only to get that half-crazy, half-sympathetic glance that says everything except what I need to hear.  I can’t understand why I feel the need to make them understand, it’s not like my healing is dependent upon their understanding. I guess in a way, I want them to believe I’m not just another hypochondriac seeking pity. What does pity get me, besides pissed off? And what does a human’s approval get me, besides further from God?
I know God has something planned for me, some greater reason as to why I must go through this. Something grand. I just can't see it. I know I need to put my trust in Him wholeheartedly: all my faith in His basket. But I don’t know how. Can anyone else tell me how? I’m missing a puzzle piece: the very one that connects my pain to Him. Because, God is love right? He is just. Jesus spent His time on this earth curing people who 'heard' Him of plagues and a whole plethora of ailments, didn’t He? So it doesn’t seem so easy to believe that this fantastic and wonderful loving Father is just sitting back watching me and millions of others suffer in our own personal agonies just waiting for us to have that “A-Ha” moment that suddenly tears down the veil and fully opens our hearts to Him and all His glory. It seems nearly impossible. Perhaps that is why Jesus said, “Because strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leads to life, and few will find it.”
Most days, I feel quite certain that I am not one of those few. Most days I find it difficult to try, and impossible to care. Most days I feel so raw, cynical, bruised, and broken that I simply roam from room to room just searching for anything that will make me feel anything else. Anything at all. Most days the very thought of life is just too tiresome to handle. I plead with God daily to just let me go already. I’m certainly not doing anyone any good here, so it seems. I feel like a ghost in my own body. I can’t control it, I can’t stop the pain, and I sure as hell cannot understand it. Each night I lay in bed with the hopes that tomorrow morning I will feel better. And most mornings, I don’t. I have good days, well good moments in days. But they seem too few and far between. And this pain is a literal plague overtaking all of me, every sense we humans possess. And most days, there’s nothing I can do about that.
But there are some days when I wake and feel very little pain. But, I’m afraid to move because it’s probably just a dream that I don’t want to wake from. Some days, I remember what happy is. Some days, I actually laugh, instead of cry. And some days, I can actually look up to Heaven and thank God for my pain, because as bitter as it is, it reminds me that I am alive and have purpose. Those days are a treasure, because they are so very rare.
Most days I forget purpose, I forget why I am here to begin with, and I forget what ‘good’ feels like. Most days I spend having an internal dialogue with God, disputing so many things with Him and just begging for relief. Most days, all I want is to just feel better.

1 comment:

  1. I was reading on some book blog and clicked 'next blog' and ended up here. Reading your post felt like reading my life. I live with chronic pain which makes it sound like something that can be cured or dealt with. Not so. It sounds like you spend a lot of your time struggling to find that anchor, that one little thing that will keep you hanging on. I have that anchor simply because I have kids. If they weren't here, well, I don't know where I'd be. I cut. I had stopped for the longest time, but I guess that is just another failure to chalk up. I didn't want to write and make you feel worse. I want you to know you aren't alone. I don't know who you are or where you are, but I'm gonna follow your blog and maybe, if you need to, you can write to me. I'm someone who won't judge you for feeling hopeless or wondering where the hell God is... I wonder that every day. You can vent, cry, rant, whine, whatever you want and I promise to read and respond. I'm here for you. Just click on my blog name, Moohaa (there is a reason for that name ;) and leave a comment. Take care of yourself, stranger.



Related Posts with Thumbnails