It’s 0430 and I’m awake. I slept fairly well last night, which means I only woke up twice before drifting back to sleep. By 0430 I knew my luck had past and I started reading the news updates on my phone. It’s hard reading stories of such sadness like the one about a local paramedic killed in a crash last night. My heart hurts for that family and the world of first responders. But even as sad as it was, sometimes I feel like my heart has become so walled in that I don’t feel some of the more impactful emotions.

I hate crying. It gives me a headache and makes me feel physically ill. Now I have it on good authority (thanks Dr Young) that crying should be a release of toxic emotions that frees our mind and body from those pent up emotions.

For some reason that just doesn’t seem to happen with me. I wonder if it is because I hold myself and my emotions pretty close to my chest, a trick I learned after Frank got hurt to ensure that I didn’t lose myself in the terrible fear of that time. The kids needed me, so I held it together.

I’m not sure that “skill” is serving me well.

I finally gave up and got in the bathtub. I spend a lot of time here each day, it is one of the few things that seems to ease the chronic pain that just keeps creeping through my body.

Warm water. Epsom salts.

Great healing combination.

I did a Facebook perusal while soaking and actually watched some of the videos that my friends had posted. I clicked on a video that I have scrolled by in the past. It was about wrestler John Cena, who was being filmed opening thank you letters from his fans. They each talked about his mantra “Never Give Up”. This video, this wrestler, is what finally brought me to tears today. He holds firmly in his beliefs that never quitting can bring you places that you never dreamed. Never quitting doesn’t mean that bad things won’t happen, but it’s how you respond to those things that makes the difference.

Never quitting means don’t lose hope.

I’m not a quitter. But I’m tired. And I’m in pain. And I just want the rollercoaster to let me off the ride so I can sit still for just a moment.

But that’s not my journey right now. My journey is to leap forward to the end of the week and get through this next big surgery. It is necessary, just scary.

Some small part of me feels that if I can continue to take on this fight that somewhere, someone else has been given a pass. That they won’t have to endure what my body has gone through.

I believe in the Universe. And I hope that someone is smiling and happy.

I will always carry the load for someone else.


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