The Truth Waits

I turned 30 this year, a year that is drawing closer every day. Faster and without reserve, and I wish I could slow it down. I read that if you wake up and mark the beginning of your day, and then mark the end of your day, the days don't seem so fast. I haven't started doing that yet, but I should. I should do many things.

I have been fighting an infection for months, one that has left me unable to get warm in my body and sweat. I am forced to rest and be near my house consistently. I have to take medicine on time, and without fail. I realize this was an interesting time to have to rest, near the winter solstice. Maybe humans are no different than animals, and we should hibernate. A chance to rest and use less energy, a chance to slow down and reorganize my pantry... a chance to simply be. An answer to my wish, in the most unhumorous way.

Yet, I am afraid and scared of this forced period of rest, of slowing down.

I long for more. The ability to regain my freedom and not have to rest as much. Am I a bad person for simultaneously liking my rest and resenting it? How much more privileged does it get? And yet as I look at the infection and see it taking over my leg, I am not feeling privileged. I am resentful once more. For the first time in months, I pray. If He is there, I hope He listens. Has He forgotten me, in my selfishness during this last year as I attempted to climb a corporate ladder? I pushed aside other pleasures in an act designed to move me along in life. Yet, I am here. Stuck in one place, forced to work and rest. Will He hear my cry for grace and mercy, as I wonder more about the wickedness inside me, manifesting as this infection?

I pray for forgiveness for whatever I did that caused this to happen to me. I must have done something to make this happen to me, right? Bad things don't happen to good people-right? Or is this the penance I pay for my free will? My free will and mind, being something I cherish as a badge of my humanity, are now my hubris. Do I have to finally admit that I simply don't know anything? I have been faking everything, hoping I blend in with everyone else who seems to have it together. I continue to pray.

I ask for the mental strength to get through this, and realize I am grateful it's happening to me and not my kid. As I think of my kid, my resentment melts away. Everything I lack seems to be nothing compared to what I have to be. I would gladly bear this mark if it means my child is okay. I realized in that moment, something I had known in my heart. She was the answer to my prayers, my personal angel. Everything good about me was because of her. My personal guardian angel, given to me.

I may be struggling, I may have lost the storyline, the plot, the message. I may be months away from being okay again. My new normal was this infection, this constant discovery of new ways to rest. This baseline of finding ways to show my daughter how to overcome the burdens we are handed by the chaos of the world. To remember our free will, and to make our path, whether it be glorious or tragic. I hope to find this strength once more, maybe every day. I wish to take the granted wish and use it wisely.