The pain has been too much to handle…
Tomas’ teeth are a cause of his intense crying, his seizures and more crying since he finds the pain of his seizures just too much to handle these days.
The pain of seeing our friend’s pain in his final hours of a decade long fight against cancer.
The pain of seeing memories of Sara in my Facebook feed
The intense physical pain at the end of each day, my body sore from caring for Tomas
The pain of preparing a party you don’t want to have because right now I can’t even imagine how will I survive it
The pain of hiding your feelings from people around you
The pain that is too great to be shared with Jason, because everyday I see his eyes becoming sadder.
June is coming, we can’t stop it. What was supposed to be a big “Fuck you Universe, we can’t be defeated” is now a living hell that was Universe’s answer; “Oh really? Your kid dying is not going to bring you to your knees? Just watch me! Everyday you will see your baby convulse just like your daughter in her final hours of brain function. Your replacement kid will be a limp doll that will depend on you for everything. He might never say a single word to you. If that is not enough how about he will also be blind.”
The pain is raw these days, new pokes of a hot poker penetrating the skin. Seeing people’s healthy toddlers, poke. Trying to elicit a gaze at me, just to see Tomas’ eyes dart like a search light in constant motion, poke…
There are too many pokes these days, coming at me left and right, not allowing my body to heal the wounds, multiplying in number, compounding the pain they cause.
I used to be able to see the hot poker coming, but my brain has suffered under the attacks of stress and grief, and my ninja moves are no more. Like a boxer on the last leg, one hit after another keep coming, me waiting for the merciful white towel to appear. But that would be too easy. My coach is too busy boasting to the ladies about “grooming me” to be the toughest fighter out there. “I killed their daughter, but they ended up donating her organs and saving four children. I knew I have some fine fighters on my hands. But you can’t make diamonds without applying a great deal of pressure, ladies, you know that. I took them under my wings and put them through the paces, and look at that, she just doesn’t go down, no matter what.”- “Are you sure, I think the referee is going to call this one soon.”- “Don’t worry, we work together, he knows to give it a little more time.”
I complain about my coach, the Universe, a lot. But it’s that strange abusive relationship that just keeps me coming back for more. On a good day I feel special, little superhero that is a true inspiration to others. I like that, my ego likes that, let’s not pretend otherwise. When the pendulum of serotonin in my brain swings the other day the inevitable “Why me? I didn’t ask to be special!” reappear and I shout at my coach, voice hoarse, exhausted. Nobody chooses, in their right mind, to be sick, to have sick children.
In the past weeks I wrote several entries that never got published, they were way too dark, they were just a pure exorcism of demons that had to be written down, but ones out in the open the pain was gone and no further action was beneficial to anyone. I find my entries to follow a familiar pattern. They start pretty bleak, but end on a high note. Each of them nurturing the seed of hope, allowing the flower to bloom at the end.
I guess this one will be one of them. Universe had not wrong me, even thou I sometimes feel that way. It had allow me to experience the pressure that creates diamonds. I have a husband I can lean on, trusted friend that only few people have. I have an amazing community of people around me. I have grown as a person and I want to grow more. I have so much even thou I no longer have my daughter, even thou I don’t have a healthy son.
But we always want more…
ktojoy 