Joy is the giant umbrella that keeps the harshest rain from soaking you to the bone, the same umbrella that brings shade when the sun is at its worst. Joy isn't a perfect day or perfect life, and it doesn't present itself the same to everyone. Your joy may very well be my complete hell. The answer to the question is.... "Joy" is a different experience, a different presence for each person. When you think about it, there is no real definition for joy. It just is or is not.
I sometimes find my joy, though it's often fleeting. And sometimes my joy is stolen by a careless action, inaction, word or the strong and damaging presence of indifference. But eventually... I will find it again, and in those moments are when I'm most alive, free, and completely me. And I will not be made to feel selfish for embracing the person, soul, spirit I am. There have been a couple of people in my past who sought to change me completely, and in every instance I was left shattered on the inside and out. And it nearly happened again.
I somehow managed to catch myself in the process of falling into that abyss. And yes, I consider that 'lucky.'
This is where I am today as I sit here spent from days and days of running behind T dotting all the I's and crossing all the T's, and I've yet to actually get a break from it all. Yesterday was my birthday, and as birthdays go.. that one sucked beyond belief. SO much to do, and all I did was go and go and go from sunup till sundown. That's what life is like when you live with someone who 'coasts' through life like they're still 15 yrs old and have mamma to take care of everything. I'm worn today, worn and shattered and trying to catch my breath.
My camera sits beside me, covered so dust doesn't get on the lens. I've not been outside to capture the beauty that I can still see around me. There's simply just no time right now. I'm far too busy picking up where T left off. God, but I need life to slow down.
I have surgery coming in a few weeks, possibly a couple of months. They've not scheduled it yet. But the important part isn't the when but what happens when I'm incapacitated for a bit. The thought terrifies me since I have no help here. T... is not help. In my circumstances, like so many times before, if I don't do 'it,' it just doesn't get done. So what hell awaits me when I'm supposed to be healing? Who will help? A terrifying thought. Just terrifying.
It's thoughts like these that keep me up at night, that wake me at 3am, that exists as a dark undercurrent to all things 'life' and 'living,' leaving me no peace, no serenity, and consuming everything in its path. It's been two weeks since I've slept more than 5 hours a night.
Two weeks.
Where is my joy today? Waiting. Waiting for me to be released from this anchor of servitude to a person who simply doesn't understand the damage he's doing.
Doesn't matter. Praying I will get there, that I reach that place where I am happy, where I am me, where my joy is.
No comments:
Post a Comment