IT.....What is IT?

I’m changing once again.  I don’t want to be touched or hugged unless I initiate it first.  It almost feels like a burning sensation.  My circle of personal space, as it’s called (I think it’s supposed to be a 3 foot circumference around you), it growing bigger.  It’s not that I don’t appreciate the gesture of comfort.  I think my “personal space” has been invaded without my consent and I highly resent it.  He did this to me.  He created the condition in my life, the unwanted dependence upon others, that required physical attention just to exist.  It’s Mary that I really want to hug, touch, feel, hold, not anybody else.  However, I don’t want to let go of my immediate family – I’m too huggy.

 

This is a very strange sensation because I’ve always been a huggy person.  It’s no one’s fault but his.  I’m afraid this growing circle will alienate me from those I love and care about.  Maybe it will change again. 

 

Which makes me ask the question, what exactly are we in control of?  (I was taught never to end a sentence with a preposition but I couldn’t think of any other way to say it.)  Everything you think you are controlling, you’re not.  I can walk or run as I want but I may fall at any moment and break a leg.  That probably won’t happen you say, but watch out, never say never.  I’ve said it two too many times.  Every action you take can have an equal and opposite reaction that puts you out of control.  I can write when I want.  But the computer may die or the power go out.  It’s happened.  I can use a pencil until the point breaks.  I could stick myself and write in blood, but we won’t go there.  I can pee when to I want but sometimes I pee when I don’t want to.  Yep, you too I bet.  How can Mary drive hundreds of miles from northern Va and make it home safe when driving 30 miles she makes it within 3 miles of her home when he takes control of events?

 

Am I being a pessimist?  A defeatist? A skeptic? Or a realist?  Is my cup half empty or half full?  It used to be half full but now it think it’s been flat out drained.  I’m waiting for someone, somewhere to fill it up again.  Or at least lead this horse to water.  Or what’s the other saying....teach me how to fish again.

 

I’ve been collecting donations for the raffle for Mary’s party.  People have been most generous, most amazing.  Even the ones who were not able to contribute were kind enough to just listen to me talk about Mary.  I know one day I’ll be talking about Mary and someone will say “give it a rest” and I’ll say “f*%# you” and go on my merry (!) little way.  But eventually less and less people will even realize that Mary existed.  Each year the nation remembers the victims of 9/11.  I’m not sure the families of the victims really understand how great a gift it is to have the nation, the world, remember those they have lost.  There are small groups, communities of parents who have buried children that get together to remember their children.  But to have MILLIONS of people remember.....

 

“9/11” is now in the dictionary.  There are hundreds of books written about the event.  I’m not begrudging the survivors their memories.  I cried for days after it happened, for people I didn’t know.  I’m not sure if it’s jealously.  Death is a horrible thing to be jealous of.  I guess the same could be said for all the wars we’ve had.  The nation remembers those who gave their lives for our country.  But then, Mary and the 9/11 victims didn’t “give” anything.  Their lives were ripped out of their control (that word again).  I guess it would be nice to have a positive ‘out of control event’ happen.

 

Actually there are some things I do have a positive attitude about.  Otherwise I might drown in a sea of self pity.   

 

“Poor, poor, poor me.     Poor, poor pitiful me”.

 

IT……What is IT?

 

You hurt

You cry

You shut it out

You try to push it away

But it won’t go

It haunts

It claws

It never lets go

But you keep pushing

 

You see

You watch

You close you eyes

You try to ignore it more

But it won’t leave

It stares

It stalks

It pursues your steps

But you keep ignoring

 

You sniff

You smell

You hold your breath

You try to run away

But it won’t fade

It stinks

It rots

It follows your flight

But you keep running

 

You touch

You feel

You hide your hands

You try to wash it away

But it won’t depart

It grabs

It clings

It holds on tight

But you keep washing

 

You eat

You taste

You close your mouth

You try to spit it out

But it won’t melt

It bites

It burns

It’s bitterness clings

But you keep spitting

 

You listen

You hear

You wear head phones

You try to drown it out

But it won’t fade

It screams

It explodes

It probes your thoughts

But you keep drowning

  

It doesn’t bleed

It doesn’t starve

It doesn’t suffocate

It just watches you suffer