Category: hope

unexpected gratitude

December 12, 2014
fe761-nothecritic

i’m sitting in my dad’s hospital room for the last few days.

the prognosis is not good. i’ve been sitting here listening to his labored breathing, machines beeping, nurses bustling around, the woman next door screaming for her damned phone…  and just waiting. waiting for him to open his eyes, waiting for another bit of information, waiting for another update. it sucks. he looks small and weak. his hands are swollen and his skin feels cold.

i know if i let myself think about it too much i’m going to lose it. when i got here this morning i was overwhelmed with emotion but i knew if i let myself cry there’d be no stopping me. i don’t know what is going to happen. the waiting and not knowing is hard.

but i’m choosing hope.

i am just dealing with each moment and each hour as they come. right now he’s alive and i’m grateful for that. i’m grateful for the machines, tubes and medicines that are keeping him here while he fights. i’m grateful for the nurses, doctors, attendants, janitors and everyone here.

for the last several years i’ve been the only one in my family who has had any contact with my dad. i won’t go into all of that drama but it’s hurt me and i know it’s hurt him to be shut out by the family he loves. this might sound dumb but it’s nice to have all of these doctors and nurses on his side. i’m not alone in my concern for him anymore. there are other people helping him and hoping for the best for him. and i’m so grateful for that.

that quote always makes me think of my dad and how hard he’s worked and how much he’s sacrificed for his family. he’s not perfect buy he tries and no matter what he’s never stopped trying. i love my dad so much. if you are so inclined please keep him in your thoughts and prayers.

i’ve also set up this page to help cover the cost of his treatment: http://www.gofund.me/_helpmydad

life lately

March 27, 2014

https://www.flickr.com/photos/joie_butter/4577230272/player/728aee4041

“foggy whirlwinds may be your intimate companions. being up-in-the-air could be your customary vantage point. during your stay in this weird vacationland, please abstain from making conclusions about its implications for your value as a human being. remember these words from author terry braverman: “it is important to detach our sense of self-worth from transitional circumstances, and maintain perspective on who we are…” 

for the last several months things have been fine. really, actually fine. not great, not awful but fine. and fine has been good enough. the last few weeks, however, have felt like one step forward, 300 steps back.

but i’ve faithfully stuck to my motto of “i’m fine” because it seems like the polite thing to do. i mean, honestly shouldn’t there be a moratorium on how long you’re allowed to feel bad about something? shouldn’t i spare my friends the same old sadness? but saying “i’m fine” while there’s a dinosaur dying a slow death in the pit of your stomach, or when all you want to do is lie down on the sidewalk and just stay there, or when you have to walk two blocks in the dark and immediately burst into frightened tears is no fun.

my solution for the last few weeks has been to hide out. keeping myself inside and busy with ridiculous things like ironing my bedding, spending way too much time on pinterest, vacuuming 4 times a day (no, really) and rearranging my bookshelves obsessively isn’t really a great solution either. and i hate ironing.

my point: depression sucks. it’s frustrating and boring and lonely and scary. hopefully it’s just part of my weird “vacationland”.

good natured friends have pointed out that i have a valid reason to be depressed and okay, yes, maybe that’s true… but i don’t want to be depressed. i don’t want to spend the rest of my life ironing. and more than anything i don’t want that reason.

the other day i met a friend at the park and she very pointedly but kindly asked how i’d been and as i opened my mouth to recite “fine” i couldn’t do it. i took a breath and with a lot of embarrassment said, “i’ve been sad.” to me it sounded so lame, pathetic and weak … or like something a 5 year old would say. but i said it and then i waited for the dreaded pep talk. while there was a little pep talk what i got was kindness, listening, understanding and concern. one of the things she said was “weakness is not a sin”… as in being sad doesn’t mean i’m faithless. depression is not a sin. anxiety is not a sin.

and so that’s how i’ve been. sad. but saying it eases some of that sadness so there’s hope.

polaroid by me.