Purple Pain

 Twenty-Two years ago,

It was awakened inside of me, 

At the scene of the car accident,

That created a perpetual anxiety,

Whenever I drive. 

Looking back on things,

With everything I know now at my disposal,

It all makes sense.

Being sick,

All. Of. The. Time.

Skin and scalp problems.

Joint deterioration. 

Physical over-reactions to stress. Like gray hair in 10th grade.

Super low blood pressure.

Weight fluctuations.

And pain. 

Pain that sucked the air out of my lungs. 

Pain that made it unbearable to stand, sit, lie down.

Breathe.

Pain that sent me to the ER one Thanksgiving. 

Pain caused by stress. 

It was awakened and thriving,

Invisible and nameless.

Until I tested positive for arthritis,

At 24-years-old.

And 8 vials of blood.

And 2 weeks later.

I had a diagnosis. 

Poor me.

Handed a death sentence I paid to receive. 

And politely thanked the doctor for handing it to me.

Left to grieve the life I'd planned for myself.

Alone.

Believers were the worst. 

Challenging my faith.

Deciding it was weak since my body was.

The audacity. 

My family was a close second.

Completely unsupportive and dismissive. 

Uncertain and afraid,

I made a series of decisions,

That forever changed my life. 

I carried a soul.

Sacrificed what little health I had.

For 37 weeks and a day,

Terrified to misstep. 

I've never desired a person's cries.

Not until that August morning.

Lying paralyzed from the waist down,

On a table,

In a brightly lit,

Sterile room,

Surrounded by strangers,

And my mom.

Holding my breath.

Relief only available at the sound of a cry.

Survival. 

Mode. 

Activated.

Until I die. 

Survival is imperative.

Point blank.

Period.

It's been more than 11 years since I prayed to hear that cry.

Eleven years of operating in exhaustion,

Out of love.

Unconditionally. 

Eleven years of provision.

Eleven years of becoming mentally healed and whole.

Eleven years of teachable moments,

New recipes,

Sleepless nights,

Cleaning extra laundry and mess,

Of cuddles,

Of fierce protectiveness. 

And of a decline in health.

This awakened beast only takes short naps,

Every once in a while. 

Shadows of ferocious flares never leave me.

A constant reminder of weakness and pain. 

And God.

Who gives me strength.

Each day,

Of each week,

Of each month,

Of each year,

For the 11 years that I've wished I hadn't taken the first 26 for granted.

For the next unknown number of years, I'll spend grateful,

For the 11 years I've already been gifted.

   

The Holidays are Coming...

 People keep talking about Christmas trees as if there's no turkeys to cook.

As if there isn't homework to complete.

Or practices to attend.

And shows to performs.

People act as if there are no children whose candy intake must be monitored.

As if Jesus' birthday is the only one left to celebrate.

As if there is no work involved in sending out Christmas cards.

As if all other responsibilities are gone.

And it's all making my head spin.

I do too much to calendar hop.

I have to focus on one thing at a time.

And so many of my things are so back-to-back that I barely have time to breathe deeply during the in-betweens. 

And then there's the guilt.

My kid won't get a lot of things for Christmas.

There may not be a huge feast.

Or a new dress and shoes.

And then there's the gratitude.

Because by the grace of God.

We won't be hungry.

Or homeless.

There will be a couple of presents.

And a new experience.

And an old tradition.

And a time to shine.

And an opportunity to serve. 

And a small break from the day-to-day rush.

And togetherness.

And I hope we can all find some reason to celebrate during this upcoming holiday season.