Today was a good day...

(I wrote this on Friday)

Today was a good day

Well, it wasn’t. But it was… Let me explain.

The other night I ended up in the ER again with an ailment the doctors couldn’t do anything about. They sent me home in pain, and I had a frustrating sleepless night. The next morning, I was sick from not being able to eat and exhausted from not sleeping. I had accidentally left my cell phone at the hospital so the day would involve a trip in to retrieve it, and pick up some medication.
I tried to eat something and keep it down. It was not easy. Having been sick like this before, I knew what I needed to do to help my body recover, but recently it feels like it gets harder to come back each time.

In the early afternoon, I began to feel a bit brighter so prepared for the trip back into hospital. I was tired, sore and not in a good mood. I was worried that I would faint from not eating, or my body would throw another tantrum and I would end up back in hospital. Suffice to say, I was not happy.

So, I picked up my phone (which had a completely flat battery by this time), and picked up my medication.  I hated being back there, even if I wasn’t a patient. It’s a scary place to me (not an unusual feeling, I do realise!) and anything that involves going anywhere near it generally makes for a pretty bad day.

As I was walking out, I suddenly realised how lovely the weather was. I decided on the spot to go for a walk in the nearby Botanic gardens. For those who know me, spontaneity (even for things as small as this) isn’t just a rare occurrence- it simply doesn’t happen at all! So anyway, I came to a seat overlooking the river. It was a perfect moment- the sun, the ducks, the air, everything just felt quiet and peaceful. And for the first time in days, I wasn’t in pain or feeling sick.

And I started to pray.

Not in any formal, organised way that ticks off bulleted pointed prayer points. No, this was like talking to an old friend I hadn’t visited in a while. I realised, sitting on that seat, looking at the beauty before me, how little I have been talking to God recently. I read somewhere a quote that I rather liked: “If you only talk to God when you’re in trouble-you’re in trouble!” It came to my mind as I sat there, and almost felt embarrassed. Because I was in trouble. Thankfully, so thankfully, it wasn’t God who made me feel this way-it was me. He is still there, exactly where He promised me He’d be. And when my heart was ready, He showed me just that.

I walked away feeling a sense of peace my heart hasn’t felt for the longest time. It felt like coming up for air. And for the first time in a long time, I felt like me again.

So, even with everything that happened, even with my health and all the little things that niggle and make for a bad day, I had a good day. Because in all of the all too familiar darkness, I got to spend some much needed time with my God.

Today I feel...

It’s so hard to put into words the plethora of emotions that grief throws at you. Sometimes, actually a lot of the time, emotions are merged with each other, a giant balloon of swirling thoughts and feelings threatening to burst and overwhelm you. Sadness…joy…pain…anguish…guilt…So much of the time it’s hard to identify just one or two emotions that you’re feeling at any given moment, let alone communicate them or put them into words. But in this moment I have to be able to know what I’m feeling, say what’s going on and put it into words otherwise the feelings will simply consume me. So I’ll try. Bear with me, I am less than succinct and tend to ramble!

Today I feel…sad. I miss my daughter, I want to see her and hold her more than I want to take my next breath. I’m sad because I look around and she’s not here. I cry because my arms ache to hold her, and they are empty. I feel sad because my grandmother has only been given a few weeks more on this earth. I’m sad because there are so many things that I want her here for. I’m sad because I know she must be exhausted, and the woman I have grown up with was passionate and lively. I’m sad because it seems so cruel how time and disease has ravaged her body. I’m sad because I miss my daughter, whose life was so brief, and I’m sad because my grandmother’s long life is almost over.

Today I feel…embarrassed. There are many things that I have said and done in this past year that make me cringe. Mistakes I have made that can never be undone. Things I have said to people that can never be forgotten. Trips, falls, slips and tumbles that I failed to recover from. Obstacles and challenges that I failed to handle gracefully, and instead made things worse for myself and those around me. I feel embarrassed that I have not handled this year as well as I would have liked. I feel I should be better than that, that I should be able to meet life’s challenges and rise above them. Triumph over the road blocks and detours and come out the other side, wiser and stronger. I feel like I should have, but I have not. It’s been over a year, and I feel like I have barely moved from where I was, weeping an agonised farewell to my daughter. I feel stuck, I feel like a failure. And for that, I feel embarrassed.
Today I feel…guilty. I have let myself and the people around me down so many times in the last few months I am truly surprised that I have anyone left in my life at all. I am astounded that more people have not turned and walked away. And even the surprise I feel at people’s continued compassion and kindness shows how distrusting I am of them and their intentions. And that makes me feel guilty, underestimating those around me makes me ashamed of myself. I also know that the problems I am facing are so consuming me that I have been unable to be there for the people I care about. I have not been able to be who they need me to be, do what I they need me to do. And after all the help I have received this year, this makes me feel guilty.

Today I feel…lonely. I miss my family, and wish that I could be with them. I try to explain how I’m feeling and few understand and meet me where I am at. While I know I am not alone, these feelings and tiny crises make me feel lonely, longing for just one person to understand what it is I ask for, what my heart longs for and my soul needs.

So the balloon above me swirls with colours I now recognise, nonetheless powerful enough to overwhelm me, but familiar insofar that should the balloon burst, I do not fear that it will end me.