Wednesday, March 5, 2008


I unplugged for a few days. No IM, no email, no blogposts, and no cellphone. I planned to just take the weekend and unwind a little. Instead it lasted a little longer. Today I charged the cellphone, checked my emails, and now am sitting down for a blogpost that I chewed on for a while today. What a busy day it was. I'll spare you the details but...

I woke up today from a few days of wondrous numbness. I was walking around asleep, unfeeling, and blissfully ignorant. What a welcome break.

It used to be the way I lived. Numb. Neither awake, nor asleep. Neither dead nor alive. Something stirred me to life. I'm not sure exactly when. I think it's happened several times over the past year or so. I would come to life for a while, and then slip back into unconsciousness. I welcome those states of limbo, although I didn't fully become aware of it until today. Today when I woke up from a much shorter one of those periods, I realized why I allow myself to slip away. To waken is to feel. To feel is to feel pain, to hurt, to feel disconnected, to realize I'm not alright.

I'm not alright. I wish I could go back to my state of blissful ignorance and stay there forever. When I awaken to life, my thoughts return. The words return. Words which I thought I loved so much, are now my enemy. They bubble and boil in my veins like a witches brew. Words trapped. No one to speak them to. Where is the one in whom I can confide such intimate thoughts? To whom can I pour it all out and unlock them from my mind? Thoughts too intimate to write. Words too sacred to spill out into nothingness.

I pray them. I pray them over and over. I wonder if He ever gets tired of my thoughts. The same thoughts swirling and swirling like dust caught in a wind storm. I think it is He, in His mercy who allows me to go so numb. To live neither happy or sad. Neither content nor discontent. He lifts it off my shoulders so I can breath another day. He helps me go through the motions of mother, daughter and friend. He helps me as I wash another dish, fold another load of laundry, or wash another body. It is He who allows me to see I'm not alright. He shows me my human condition and then mercifully puts me back into the trance so I can walk on another day while He works silently on it all. I put my hope in Him. He carries me.

I worry in sharing even this much of my thoughts someone may think I've gone mental. I've not. I'm just truthful. I see who I am. At times it has been such an ugly revelation and yet in that revelation comes growth and change. It's hard after such a revelation to go back to writing about smaller things. Once Pandora's box is opened, it's very difficult to close it again.