waiting...

As some of you know, I haven't had the best health for the past two years or so. For a few months, I was improving, and I was excited to get back into "normal" life. However, things have taken a bit of a turn and are gradually worsening.

I admit that frustration and hopelessness start setting in at times. I haven't missed so much school since I was a sophomore in high school. I've never had this many sick days at work (thank heavens my supervisor is understanding and offers his help wherever he can). While I've always been aware of financial difficulties, I've never before felt so pinched. And I've never, ever felt so tired, never. Not only that, but my dad's getting worse as well -- though he won't admit it.

Is it ironic to anyone else that now, at possibly one of the hardest times in my life, I'm happier than I've ever been? Listing out the worries on my mind somehow brings a smile to my face. Yes, I'm physically uncomfortable most of the time, and I worry about losing my dad, but inside, I feel at peace. Every time I start worrying and the concerns press on my mind, I'm able to sit back and think about how good my life really is.

For example. Though I've missed a lot of school, I'm keeping up and am still getting good grades. My work supervisor is incredibly helpful. Money is a serious concern, but it keeps working out every time I really need something. I'm sleeping more frequently than I have in years. And dad is still here, and always happy to spend time with me.

After the third doctor's appointment this month, they finally decided that it's time to start looking for the problem, rather than treating the symptoms. I'll get the test results in a few days -- I'm hoping things will be okay. And they will be -- everything has been working out so far. I don't see why it won't continue to do so.

Waiting, waiting, waiting. For so many things -- although, the wait time for me and Adam continually shortens. So excited.

not today...

Woke up early -- not tired a bit. Got up, got dressed, got it under control.  Cute hair, cute dress, cute shoes, cute girl. Ready for another day.

Not ready for the questions.

They came from all directions. Concerned faces, hushed voices, worried looks and whispers.

How's your dad?
How's your family?
What did the doctors say?
What treatments is he getting?
What changes has he made?
Is he happy? Is he sad?
Are you all doing okay?
Is there anything we can do?
How's your mom?
How are your sisters?
(but worst)
How are YOU?

Sympathetic hands laid upon my arm, hugs and promises and ever more questions.

DON'T TOUCH ME I don't scream,
GO AWAY I don't say.

They believe that they are being kind. Which is why I answer -- wrote and boring -- but it's what they want to hear.

He's fine. He's tired.
They're all busy.
Shots. Pills.
Doctors. Bills.
Happy, yes. Sad, no.
Okay -- I assume so. I'm not home much.
I don't know -- I don't live at home -- I don't know what they need.
She's tired.
They're busy.
(they wait expectantly)
I'm fine, too.

I don't tell them that I'm tired. I don't tell them to go away. Instead, I go.

Left church early -- couldn't stand it anymore. Held back tears -- didn't want to explain. Escaped the people and the words and the problem they all want to dwell on. Stood under a tree and listened -- bees buzzing above my head, birds chirping in the bush, heat singing over the ground -- they ask nothing of me. No more questions.

Not today.

remembering to forget...

It's dark outside. Everyone at home is either asleep, doing homework, or otherwise too busy to talk. Same with everyone not at home. In both cases that's totally fine, because I honestly wouldn't know what to say if I were to begin a conversation about what's on my mind.

Blocked. Yep. I did it. Finally.

My thoughts and feelings seem somewhat disconnected. Everything is jumping around, touching on something here and flitting to something there. Right now I'm mostly cold...very cold. And inside I don't feel afraid or nervous. Just contemplative, somewhat curious, and relieved.

Sometimes taking the seemingly impossible step is the thing that brings you relief. I get the feeling that this isn't over yet, but it's getting closer.