I actually connect with this sad house. Once, the wood was strong and straight. And it wasn't ruined by disaster, or a big dramatic moment. No, this house was worn down. One storm after another. Small moments. Falling together. Falling apart.
I marvel how the wood changes and bends and softens. And while this house is sad, I also see strength. Against the odds, against that softening wood, it stands. It refuses to fall.
I wonder who will buy this house.
I wonder how long it takes, for the little damages to add up and become catastrophic. How long can I stay strong? Pain is meant to go away. We want to heal. And we carry through. I carry through. For a few days, a week. But when does it chip away at our every positive thought? How long can you hurt? Before you must return to everyday life with chores and expectations? How long can you be graceful? A week? Two?
Mine is six weeks. Six weeks and I hit a wall. Big wall. A wall that taunts me. I have gone to the orthopedic specialist about my hip which is either sore or shooting pain down my leg. I feel like a pin has wedged between the bones. I am either numb, exhausted, or pushing through the pain.
I could sink like a stone. The nature of this neuropathy encourages sinking, because there is a little voice that says, this is just the beginning and it only gets worse from here.
And remember that change is constant. I had an hour today where medicine gave me relief (this doesn't always happen). And it was enough for me to gather myself together again. We will figure this out. Summer is around the corner. I have a few more crazy weeks. These days feel manic. But I also keep myself centered in the here and now. Sunshine and roses.
Blossoms and laughter. Tight hugs and sweet moments. Moments that matter beyond pain.
I won't give up on my haunted house :)
Over that wall :)