It's 3am as I write this propped up on pillows in the bed that I'm currently waging war against. I've been trying to sleep for 4 hours, I've managed 40 minutes.
So here I sit, eating tender juicy peach slices that just yesterday were bought from the grocers as seriously hard lumps like rocks that were masquerading as peaches. It's amazing what one day will do to a peach, it that not true of people too? I have had the pleasure to mentor and see many young people grow into stronger, gentler, calmer, more humble versions of the anxious, overrought, gonna-fix-everyone people that they came as when just joining our community and just beginning to support people with developmental disabilities. They were unripened peaches when they came and they transformed into delightful fruit to nourish others in their journey of life. What a wonderous gift that I have been witness too!!
So I sit here, like a queen surrounded by pillows eating ripe peaches.....the thoughts that come unbiden into ones head in the ugly hours of an unrestful night seem to bruise the fragile peach skin of my psyche. Ugly thoughts that I seem to have to swat away and away like so many fruitflies.....sometimes swatting sucessfully, other times settling into remorse and dispair.
Will I ever be better?
Will I be able to return to the job I love to do?
How will I pay for my meds?
I'm too fat!
How can I loose weight without exercising because I can't really exercise healthwise?
Should I even worry about my weight? Who cares anyway? I have no one to impress!
I have no one.....no one......why am I still here? Why don't I put everyone else out of their misery of having to see me suffer (though I try hard to put on a happy face) instead of being so selfish? Wouldn't it be easier for everyone if I was dead? Do I really have a purpose? Can anyone truly love me? Are all the people who said with their actions and words that I'm unlovable, loathesome, detestable, unwanted right? Can I really have a life when at least a few of my days a week I'm bedridden or can't leave my house due to pain? Do I keep up the facade of being normal until I crack? What is the point? Should I keep fighting when all my doctors have put me in the box of being a "rarity" from birth and therefore already bruised fruit?
Should I keep this bruised fruit, hoping that some peice of it will be good enough to eat?
Then hope hits me for a brief moment in my despair, in my lament about how bad my fruit is, there is always the pit, plant a new tree, work on a new plan with God, for God and try not to forget it came from bruised fruit.
I'm feeling very bruised tonight. I'm just so alone, even surrounded by others, I have good friends but good friends don't cut it when you've always been told that's all you'll be to anyone.
no one wants me, no one wants the bruised fruit.
God help me.
Soli Deo Gloria