It seems like I'm spending so much time and energy these days on hope. Giving hope. Sharing hope. Supporting hope.
Hoping beyond hope that everything will be ok.
But it won't be. It can't be. There is no place we get to, take a deep breath and sigh that we've arrive.
It's all a journey filled with joy and pain, love and fear.
I get so scared sometimes that I'll be swept away by the negatives parts. I'm terrified of not just of what will go wrong but will I be able to cope.
And here I am. Coping but teetering on the edge.
I started to panic before my MRI even started yesterday. Bathed in sweat, blood rushing to my face, I apologized politely and went home. I couldn't handle it.
Today, visiting my sister, I had glimmers of coming undone, of not being able to handle the present.
I'm pretty lost at the moment.
And feeling like I have no right to be.
This has always been my place in my family. I'm the healthy one, the care-taker, the go-to person to get things done. I've always done it because I'm so grateful not to be the one in crisis. I'm so guilty that people I love have to suffer so intensely.
There's no other way that I can help.
And so I do what I can until I can't anymore and my own fraying starts.
My edges are ungluing.
I have an endless list of all I need to do, much/most for other people. And I can't get my head or heart or energy around any of it.
I don't know how to get me out of this place.
It's getting harder to help everyone else when I can't help myself.