That’s how it starts, isn’t it?
You are going about your day, work, chores, eat, read/watch TV and off to bed just like all the previous days.
In the back of my mind there are those haunting thoughts of what if but they seem to be more sedated these days.
Then a knock on the door and suddenly the walls are falling, taking me with them into an abyss of pain, betrayal, anger. More than all that is the sinking feeling that what seems like a modest but moderately satisfactory life was an illusion.
The fact that I have no control and perhaps no say in my own outcome seems to drown out all of my senses while I sink into the the gray fog that now surrounds my every thought.
The injustice of my place in this world is a knife to my chest and a heaviness that never seems to allow more than a shallow breath before I am sucked under again. The pain is so overwhelming that I have retreated into the the darkest corners. Like a child, my breaths come quickly but quiet so as not to give my location.
Times like this I could you a mother, sister, aunt, partner that could soothe the part of me that seems to have lost the strength to nurse my wounds. I imagine being held by a protector, whispering words that acknowledge and validate the excruciating wound I carry. I imagine strong arms that rock me and give me a place to feel safe, even if it’s only for a moment.
But there is no knight, kind and caring mother, wise father or a sister to commiserate with. It is just me, know that even in my worst moments where I am barely hanging on…there is still an adult child that will require comforting and reassurance. I can’t say I am successful in my attempts. But I don’t stop trying because the thought of passing this all on and just leaving someone else alone with this unrelenting pain is simply not an option.