Sometimes Words Do Not Exist
I have opened this journal several times to write only to find that the words do not exist for what I have been feeling. At times it is difficult, if not impossible, to capture in words the countless layers of emotion and processing of this experience. I am also a highly introspective person, which can be both a blessing and a curse. In a memoir of an individual who suddenly became paralyzed by Transverse Myelitis, he described the process of coping and "grief" as akin to a Tsunami - just when you think you have it under control and you have accepted the changes in your life you realize that was just the temporary calm of the tide receeding to prepare to slam back into the shore. You think the first year is the hardest for adjustment, but as the end of year one approaches it is starting to become a deeper reality that even though I continue to undergo seemingly endless medical testing there will be no treatment awaiting me that will make a differnece in the functioning I currently possess. Unless God decides to perform a miracle, this is most likely as good as it is ever going to get again. I have known that but now I KNOW that, if that makes any sense. Words fail me here. I am still living my life, savoring each moment, and refusing to live on any terms other than my own. Yet things that used to sting hurt just a little bit more right now, like my protective skin is raw and vulnerable. The moment every morning when I wake up, before I remember all that has happened, is incredible in its innocence but the smack of reality that follows a heartbeat later seems slightly harsher. I am more frustrated by the fact that people try to make me fit their image of what someone with a disability should be, creating an image of a saint who does what they "could never do" and is "coping so well" and is "so strong". I am human, not a saint, and I don't remember being given a choice about this course of my life, I am just doing what I have to do in order to live the life I have been given and I have good days and bad days and days I debate with God. I am the same person I was before this happened, and it hurts just a tad more to see how that identity is stolen from me as people struggle to see beyond the chair and their own issues with it. If I tried to find words to describe how I am feeling they would be raw, vulnerable, pensive, introspective, and re-cognition. But these words are not sufficient, they lack and miss the emotion and the experience and the journey. Sometimes words simply do not exist for this thing we call life, but we can learn so much even where the words can not travel.
November 11, 2009 at 10:03 AM
just remember through all these times you have friends that will always be here to listen, cry, and love you no matter what.
give me a call if you need to talk
SM
November 11, 2009 at 4:29 PM
I often think of you as TEACHER~
of how to manage trials, how to self-motivate,how to grieve with grace, how to be fruitful,and yet how to live with humor.
When I read your posts I find myself floating along with the waves of words, I am never sure if the emotions I feel will be happy or sad, but I know that you WILL evoke emotions, and that I secretly enjoy!
November 11, 2009 at 4:53 PM
Well, you might be unsatisfied with your words, but Stacey and I are getting a lot out of them. Stacey also wisely reminds us of a very important descriptive for you is 'teacher'. Feeling very grateful for this eventual effort.
I've been wondering if transverse myelitis had been ruled-out.
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