It Matters (Carry On Tuesday – After All, Tomorrow Is Another Day)

Shandi-lee X {pieces I}

Image by Shandi-lee via Flickr

After three days of cold, grim weather and not wanting to get out of the comfort of my bed, today I saw the first suggestion of sunshine, still hidden behind the trees. It was a hint, a mere lighting of the sky but it gave me hope. I stood by the window unclothed until I saw lines from the white venetian blinds stripe my body as if I was a lioness; I threw back my head and laughed with delight. I marched straight for the shower, feeling empowered just by the light of day, not held captive anymore by the banal, grey, humorless me.

I dressed quickly, as if I had a purpose, and rounded my dog up, leashed her and took her outside for a walk. “Come, girl,” I said, “I know, it’s a surprise for me too.” She chose the route and I breathed in deeply for that first attack of the fresh, cold, crisp air, like the first bite of a fall Macintosh apple. We passed a tree that had small, round inedible, red berries on it and I stood there for a few moments looking at them through different angles of my cold hands through the frail winter branches against an intensely rich blue sky.

I thought of what I had been through the last year and the first thought that entered my mind was that “it matters.” People don’t truly understand that when you promise something, and you give people your word, they believe you. They may never bring it up to you again,  but, they do remember. It’s not some hazy questionable memory either, it’s with alarming clarity. “You must come for dinner” people told us when we had no place to live but a single hotel room, “I will call you this week” they said soothingly as I sobbed on the phone, feeling utterly helpless, my husband just having had surgery, believing them.  They never called, they never came through on their empty promises or the promises they made at the time, apparently off the cuff. Next time, busy people, try to think it through because for people who feel homeless or displaced, we cling to the thought of an offer of a home-cooked meal, an offer from your heart when we feel we have nothing left.

“We’ll miss you, we love you” said the young replacement friends in the temporary home and of course, I am too gullible. I am too sensitive and too thoughtful and I take things too seriously. I believe people and even at my old age, I still have not learned that most people, the majority of people say things that they do not mean. Even one of my best friends knew I was in trouble and yet she did what most people would do and pushed me off into a corner until she had more time on her hands. I know my standards are high, too high, but I could not do that and sleep well at night; actually I could not sleep at all. Even when I was crying out for help albeit weakly, people acknowledged it and said “after all, tomorrow is another day” and turned their heads away.

Be careful of your words, be careful of your intentions, be kind to one another. Don’t offer things unless it is with a true heart  especially if they are vulnerable and lost unless you KNOW you can carry through. We have all felt lonely and sad and desperate one time or another. Remember that feeling when you see someone suffering like a child gripping her mother’s hand in fear. Remember too, that it could be you someday, that it could be you.

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Dear Me (in response to Phylor’s blog)

Cast all your anxiety

Image by Lel4nd via Flickr

Dear Me,
I keep asking myself why I hurt so much. Why do I feel like razor blades are cutting into my shoulders, why does my back feel so tight that it could break completely in half at any minute. My joints ache yet I haven’t been diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis….yet but a friend told me she tested a false negative for five years. Is that something I am supposed to look forward to?
My mind and body are also anxious. It comes out of nowhere and I don’t know why it’s been happening lately. I do get anxious once in a great while but this has been going on for a little while already. Stop. OK, please stop. I’ll do anything to get rid of those pests inside my brain and my body that are hammering on my insides until they get through to my skin and I want to attack them like I would swatting at flies.
I’m not happy, nor am I happy. I feel dull, blah, not joyful yet not tearful. I want to feel something but I am incapacitated at the moment. Perhaps I fear my own fear. The world at large is a very scary place, I want to help, I can’t ignore it but we have no control over our lives. None. That is some scary stuff right there.
Just when I want to have an adventure I have to think about my Fibromyalgia and Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis. Why did I have to get these together? I can’t even differentiate pain anymore because I ache all over. Muscles, joints, legs, all of it together, all the time. I am getting scared and angry at this stupid disease that doesn’t even have a cure for it yet. I’ve tried all kinds of pills, I’ve done everything I can do, yet nothing helps. Worst of all, some people don’t even believe that what we have is real. Why would anyone make up pain? So, there it is, my ups and downs, my sad to bad feelings, my utter feeling of helplessness in a world that is scary enough without any control whatsoever.