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Sunday, April 1, 2012

Little Sherri (inner) Conversation

Im trying to write this before the vision fades away.  Last week was one of my worst. But I had good friends over Saturday, and that helped.   Then another friend came by Saturday night and helped me with some things I can’t do right now.   Shopping, mostly.  I did it in pain because I had no choice, but at least I had a ride.  When my other friends were over for brunch they did EVERYTHING…I bought dessert but they did everything from start to finish.  It was great..  But I started crying softly at one point when they weren’t in the same room with me.
I was crying because it occurred to me how much I need this, and how little I can do about it.  And the money!!  I just don’t feel like I’m worth it.  Not one tiny bit.  I expressed that to my friend last night…said I think they would all be better off without me.  After she left, I took a hot shower.  Standing there, ready to get out, I repeated it out loud; that I am not worth it, I need to leave.  Soon.  Then something odd happened.  Little Sherri popped up in my consciousness.   Little Sherri is my inner child, of course.  She, and all my helpers from the other side are available to me whenever I call them.  And sometimes, like in this case, they just pop into consciousness.  Seems like lots of things happen to me in the shower!

I’m trying hard to remember the internal conversation:  S is me, LS is little me.

S         I think they would be better off without me
LS       You don’t know that
S         Isn’t it obvious?  I’m costing everyone a fortune and I feel lousy.  I can’t take it anymore.  I’m getting worse all the time
LS       You don’t know that
S         I’m sorry, I think I know my own body
LS       Your own body is my own body.  I like it
S         Yes, but it wasn’t as damaged as my body is.
LS       You don’t know the future.  You don’t know what can happen.  What has happened to your faith?  Your hope?
S         Reality.  That’s what’s happened to it.  The reality is, it’s getting worse.
LS       I don’t want to die.  I’m not ready.  I have things to do.  If you hurt or kill yourself, you are killing off the innocence that is mine.
S         You’re innocence died at puberty, when we were diagnosed.  Don’t you remember?  Don’t you recall being sick all the time, why you had few friends, why school was impossible  and later…why boys never glanced your way?  You’re telling me you would miss that?
LS       I’d miss the possibility.  And so will you.  You will be stuck through eternity wondering ‘what if?”  which is worse….20,  or 30 more years of pain, or an eternity of uncertainty?


There was more, but I can’t remember it.  I got out of the shower and dried and dressed
as fast as I could so I could write this, but it still faded away.  However, I got the gist of
it.
           

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