A typical day for me, these wintry days, requires a great amount of courage and strength of spirit. Even when my corporal strength lags far behind my desires, it takes everything I have within me just to face another day filled with pain.
Even though I have worked through most of my troubles from the past, and the accompanying depression is all but gone, I still have the desire to put myself out of my misery. My pain is so great a burden. Misery is the key. Suffering for no reason. I have always considered myself able to handle monumental amounts of pain. I have worked long hours on feet that screamed with every step. I have forced my hands to work through unspeakable torture. But today, as I write this, I have to admit the pain has become too great. I am no longer stoic enough.
Many days I am in so much pain, tears threaten. Any little stressor can set me off, and it is not that the stressor or the person or the “offense” is really great enough on its own to warrant tears. They just overflow. They are pain.
I am not enough to handle this pain alone. In times of despair, I want to cut away at my own body to remove the worst of the pain. But then I would have no arms, no legs, no nothing.
On a typical day, I do not leave the house. It is too much for me to muster. When I have an appointment, it takes extra preparation and extra rest the day before. That is, if my pain is allowing me to sleep. It takes great effort to put my pain aside and get out the door. It takes coaxing from my dear husband.
I try my best to accomplish at least a little something every day. This is important to me. I have this drive within that is greater than my pain.
Winters are terrible. Each one I spend here in Portland is worse than the one before. I need to get out of here. Please, God.