It’s no secret that being an adult can be very stressful at times for a variety of reasons. It could be parenting, it could be employment or unemployment, marriage, illness or a combination of the above. Parenting, to me, is utterly delicious but not always easy especially when you have two teenagers in High School at the same time. Adulthood in itself can also be extremely overwhelming; you are older and things are not as easy as they used to be. Everything is harder and more difficult however, if you live with a chronic illness. Your energy level is low, you feel weak, you feel pain, tiredness and sometimes sad and discouraged. That is the world I live in.
My husband and I had agreed to meet for lunch in the city where he was working. I was coming from one of many doctor appointments and feeling very discouraged. I think I had been to my Opthamologist who had to relaser my eyes for the umpteenth time for my narrow- angled glaucoma. Or, It could have been to see my Rheumatologist who is in charge of auto -immune diseases for my Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis. It could have been both.
We ordered our food and then I excused myself to go to the ladies room. Once I got inside I saw a big, wide open window, leading to the street. Yes, I admit it, I had a moment. I had a Rachel Green moment ( for those of you who don’t know the tv episode of Friends, she climbs out of the window at her wedding and runs away). For a few seconds I pictured myself climbing out that window; I was absolutely stunned. Shocked. Eerily quiet. For a split second I thought to myself, “I could just leave through this window and escape.” I saw myself in France or Italy, eating warm, dense, freshly baked bread, pulling it apart and dunking it in olive oil. I laid in the soft green velvet grass surrounded by leafy, gorgeous trees and rolling hills. There were wildflowers of every color, purple, yellow, pink and white. I was alone. I was another person and, I was happy, feeling marvelous and buoyant and free. Free of illness, free of worry, I had just stepped into the colorized version of my life; I had entered into my own personal Wizard of Oz.
No one could have been more shocked than me! I shook my head quickly at the notion, but as I was returning to the table (and confessing to my husband) I still saw that image in my mind. The sweetest thing was the feedback my husband gave me which was “I don’t blame you!!” I would NEVER do it, would NEVER leave my family, but the fact that the thought popped into my mind was absolutely startling.
My husband and I finished our lunch and my husband led me to the train, the pain in my eyes like sharp, steel wires under attack, unable to see clearly and with a severe headache that pounded the entire right side of my face. I stumbled to Starbucks and bought a cup of coffee and a densely rich, moist, brown sugar and molasses cookie for the ride. As the train doors shut, I settled in, seated next to a window, in a chair facing my home and away from the city. Taking small, sugary bites from my molasses cookie I tried to relax. My back nestled in the old, worn, smelly quilted chair. I sat quietly, listening to the slow, chug-chug beat of the train like a song that was stuck on only one phrase, repeatedly. I sat in the train, the 2:48 that was delivering me back home.