Vibrant- alive- energy returning. Pretty in the mirror again. I’ve got this. I’ll just pick up the pieces. They’re still there on the floor. I can just put them back to where I had them arranged before— before the fall—and start again. I’ve got this! Hope. Belief. Joy. A good two weeks of productivity. All is right in the world. Point A to point B. Simple stuff.
And then the physiological madness drains every bit of sensibility, every bit of cohesiveness from my mind and body. Subtly at first, like a whisper. Stealth, like a cougar above its prey. I never see it coming. I am never prepared. The dinner dishes are left undone. The guitar is laid to rest. Routine is out the window. Meticulously traced plans are as lost as the discipline that formed them.
The object of my affections becomes my enemy, and all people must be held at bay at all costs. Nobody gets in. If I ate right, drank right and exercised well, the pain and duration are minimized to a degree. But the mounting guilt never is. The self-abuse and loathing at the fruitless, useless thing that I am reduced to, is too much to bear.
My faith and prayers endure relentless onslaught. Where I used to be so strong and bold for the Lord, I now waver. Feeble is my walk. Sketchy is my follow through. I blame myself. I beat myself up. I simply fall down without the gumption to get back up.
But I forget that I am not to blame. There is nothing I could do better- no line of defense- no blockage- no preparedness that I could set in place. The child-bearing years will go out in travail with a shriek, like the physical act of birth itself, and the road to redemption for a woman is not easy.
To the woman He said, “I will greatly multiply your pain in childbirth, In pain you will bring forth children” ~ Gen 3:16
But women will be saved through childbearing–if they continue in faith, love and holiness with propriety.~ 1 Tim 2:15
And then, finally, a week and a half in- a faint light glimmers at the end of the tunnel. I might just make it if I can hang on just a few more days.
And then the sun comes out. Vibrant- alive- energy returning. Pretty in the mirror again. I’ve got this. I’ll just pick up the pieces. They’re still there on the floor. I can just put them back to where I had them arranged before— before the fall—and start again. I’ve got this!
And maybe, just maybe, the madness is finished for good this time and the cycle is forever broken. Hasten the day! For a life interrupted is injury and insult- A crooked gait, gravely misunderstood by everyone in its path.
I can only ask forgiveness loved ones. I can ask you to love me and not leave me. I can ask for you to wait for my beautiful to return in all of its glory. (If God should grant us life to see that day). I can ask you to hold the hand of the confused. The novice navigator. Consider this: the greatest nurturers and caregivers on the planet are suddenly in need of so much care. Don’t look past us or dismiss us. Forgive us our outbursts and our angst. Love us unconditionally this one time, more than all the times before. Hold us and remember how much we truly love you, and how brilliant we can be. Remember that we are hurting, but will, one day, in the not too distant future- be set free.