Saturday, June 1, 2013
My soul feels the pain that ravages this body of mine
My ego suffers from the power I give the pain
My soul knows that pain is just pain. Awful though it may be, it isn’t personal
My ego thinks it is both awful and personal and “I” suffer more
I just finished another drumming journey. This time I didn’t ask a question, I just asked for help. I got this movie-like flashback of my life…bits and pieces, some very nice some not so much. It was really quite incredible. I think it was meant as a reminder that I did have a life one time and wasn’t always flat on my back in pain. Sometimes I’m grateful for that, sometimes I’m angry I’m like this now; unable to do the simplest of things like meeting with friends, going to a movie, visiting my family…especially now. However, I have FINALLY been aware that it is completely out of my hands, and the fear and the fighting is what makes it worse. I’ve always known that cognitively but not in my heart, not in my soul.
That is starting to change.
I mentioned to a friend that I wasn’t going to my niece’s graduation because it’s just too much. I put myself and others in a difficult position because I end up in agony and then the focus is on me rather than the person whose life we are supposed to be celebrating. Or whatever the situation. I miss those family gatherings so much I’ve been selfish sometimes. Not always. But even saying “I wish I could be there” no matter how the statement may seem innocent, isn’t really. I mean, there are times it’s a throwaway line; everyone says that sometimes. For me, it’s a way of life. My friend was thrilled that I finally am coming around to admitting my life is what it is and it can’t be changed and why put others through hell too.
I’ve never thought of myself as doing that; I don’t request anything from anyone. I got my disability, my DSHS help and every other thing I have, by myself. No one helped me with anything. It made me angry for a while because it was so damn hard. But truth be told, they didn’t know how to do it either. And they had their lives.
And I have mine, such as it is. My painting. My story. My body. My challenges. It’s all mine, the good and the bad.
Posted by Sherri at 7:49 AM