During dreaming last night my mind quietly observed that dark icky corner that has for some time been jabbing, burning, and boiling chaotically over a 'situation' that has long plagued me. Conclusions were made, a course of action set, and while unconscious, my subconscious performed the final sorting and cleaning of that dank, oozing space.
Long plagued have I been. Since my teen years, through young adulthood, and beyond. Why be bothered to the point of anguish in my determination to be rid of this blockade? Because when it flares up I weaken, lose motivation for things that are important to me, crabbiness and lethargy ensue. More dastardly is that everything and everyone I love becomes diminished when the sticky, stinky, toxic goo of my infection leaks out, contaminating the treasures of my heart. To be the cause of yet another form of grief inflicted into this life, a form that I am certain can be eradicated, pains me all the more. This enormous, menacing abscess must be lanced, entirely exposed to air, sanitized, dried, and allowed time to heal! For all our sake.
Recently the wound has festered. This morning as I mulled over the content of my dreams, read a little Merton and mulled some more, I discovered that, due to a very recent, bloody battle with this 'thorn in my flesh', something has shifted. My perspective. Headway was made, ground recovered, weapons dropped, heaving sighs and fatigue allowed.
What once was a torturously painful, swollen, infected, raging wound has become a point of surgery, a removal, an incision cut and neatly stitched by a Physician who knew what he was about.
The years of doubling over in distressing anguish were important. They caused me to search for help, to express my lack, my struggle, my abuse. They forced me to notice that something was terribly terribly wrong.
For decades the pain has been with me in varying degrees of misery. I have been agonized but not killed. Thrashed, but not broken. Abused, but not demoralized. Lost only to be found.
To be found. To be picked up, placed in the hands of those who would love me back to health however long and nasty the restoration process. To be nurtured with wisdom, encouraged with insights from sources unbelievably varied. To be given the space to strain and groan, to flail and spit, to whimper and weep during the withdrawal of something that was sucking the life right out of me.
And then this morning, to awaken from surgery, blink, focus, and discover restraint-busting lucidity.
The ache felt now is a diminishing ache. The gentle burn of the incision, the tug of the stitches, the warmth of cells madly working to restore the order of new flesh, new skin, new life.
May this be the end..........and the beginning.
It's been a long time coming.
"I've heard your anguish, I've heard your hearts cry out. We are tired, we are weary, but we aren't worn out. Set down your chains 'til only faith remains. Set down your chains. And lend your voices only to sounds of freedom. No longer lend your strength to that which you wish to be free from. Fill your lives with love and bravery, and you shall lead.....a life uncommon."
~~ Jewel
21 comments:
Your story lends comfort. Sometimes I feel the older I get the more I am going to lament over myself because I will see myself increasingly clearly...which I imagine is still true. But it is comforting to know that some thorns in our flesh can be removed. I wish you a speedy recovery!
Thanks, M. I rest now, knowing that eventually I will have to do battle again, on some other battlefield. This moment for me is comforting, too, just as it is for you, because, yes, it means there is hope that some baggage CAN be left by the roadside. Long time, sweeter relief. Again, thanks.
This is realy great, I wish you succes in this process. I am pleased that you have found relief.
set down your chains and lend your voices only to sounds of freedom. No longer lend your strength to the things you wish to be free from. Powerful words from Jewel seem to have gained new meaning in your life. I give thanks, cherie.
My relief is your relief, Tom. I'm happy, too. XXOOXX
These words of Jewel's have been running through my mind for months, Liz. You are right. New meaning. I wish I had your silly hat today - it expresses my mood. ;-)
'Tis sweet, Cherie. I don't know your specific pain, but this sort of surgery I well relate to.
Thank you, Deanna.
Very powerful post, Cherie. Once again you so exquisitely describe something without naming exactly what it is, but the meaning is crystal clear. You're very good at that, and really, we don't need to know the "what" - we only need to know the "how" - the means of resolution. Also, you have once more shown how you courageously face your pain head on, only to bring yourself to a completely new place. GO YOU.
Your words lift me up, WC. You understand completely what was going on in my head while writing. It's the 'how' that I can describe, the 'what', well, that I can't go into on a blog. Thanks for calling me courageous. That's something I want to be. You are an example of courage, too. That's something I admire about you.Thanks for the comment.
L needs to read this post! He's the hold it in and let it fester person in our family.
For better, and sometimes worse, I head-butt my problems immediately, before they drive me crazy.
Normally I take things head on, too, tshs. It's the best way. I think that's why this 'thing' has been so stinkin' hard for me. There was no way to confront it - as far as I could see, except in my mind, alone, and that takes a long long time, especially when it's a huge old wound, and is still being poked at and having salt rubbed in it from the original source. I sure do appreciate that you 'head-butt' your problems. It does keep the stress lower than festering. Thankfully, I only had this one big fester. I hope that maybe if L sees the misery I've been in, and the relief to have found my way clear, he'll find ways to 'undergo surgery,' too. Thanks for the good comment!
That's what I'm hoping too. L gives himself stomach problems holding everything in. :(
I guess we all have a few festering wounds that we try to bury away in our subconscious.
this resonates. I get stuck in the 'what', it gets messy like a big pot of simmering stew splattered all over the kitchen floor. I wallow in it's warmth until I am so disgustingly dirty that to think of the 'how' seems hopeless. Thank you for the hope that the 'how' can happen.
i'm just happy you're happy. yahoo!
I think you are right tshs. We all have stuff packed away. Sigh..... I'm so sorry L gives himself stomach trouble. Nasty nasty situation. Hope he 'gets there.'
It's the pits, isn't it, Summer. You described it well - messy, dirty, and we wallow and squirm....but there is a way out. It's found eventually, once we recognize the leering eyes of our troubles and determine to give them the boot once and for all.......glad you have found some hope in my journey and struggle. So glad!
Angela, your words helped more than you know. They were the very rope I was searching for to pull myself up out of the mire and to where I was trying to go. Thanks from the bottom of my heart, friend.
Powerful writing, wonderful friends' comments. I can relate but the old baggage is indeed lying by the side of some dusty old road. I don't go there anymore.
I was an arguer. I thought I was always right. I thought I forgot nothing. Wow. Caused myself all kinds of problems. But God faithfully convicted me and showed me the better way. He also enabled me to take what He was offering. I've been so grateful and happy since. Love you, Cherie, and am so glad you are free.
"He also enabled me to take what He was offering." This, what you wrote, Lizza, was a key for me. To see what he was offering, which was right before my face. I couldn't get out of my head that what I THOUGHT was meant for me wasn't. His ways ARE higher. Slow learner, me. Thanks for the comment. Nice to know others understand. :-)
Powerful, descriptive, and restorative telling of your process to find relief, Cherie. You give hope to the rest of us. Bless You!
You are so sweet, Annie, thank you so much!
Post a Comment