Two years ago you wrote in the middle of the night. At my table you laid the blame of the world. The blame of the anxiety I have dealt with for years. The blame of not being able to find my way out of the dark. The blame and burden of years and years of hurt.
I didn’t have the time then to care. It wasn’t that I didn’t. It was that I couldn’t believe what I was reading. I couldn’t believe that someone that I believed to be so connected to me couldn’t find me in the dark.
I struggled daily to get out of bed. I foundered and faltered. I held the tears back with gates. I held myself together with tape. You knew that. I told you that. I told you that over and over and over. I lost myself.
I called you crying in the middle of the night. “I can’t do this. I don’t want to do this.” You sighed. You laid your burdens on me as if I needed more. You never even convinced me I could do it. You never even tried. You sighed. You sighed again and again and said, “I understand.” But you didn’t.
I sat alone watching my husband being kept alive by machines. I heard the hush and purr of oxygen and computer working in sync and there was an empty chair. No one to hold my hand. No one to see how desperate I was. Meal after meal in that sterile smelling room, I sat across from an empty chair.
I held my husband’s lifeless hand with no grip back. No one could ever understand what that felt like. No one. That is dark. That is the darkness taking over. I fought it off hard and I finally won. But the battle wasn’t easily fought and most certainly wasn’t easily won. I don’t even think that is a possibility to truly win.
What happened in the last two years was an un-jaded girl married to a boy living happily ever after turned into a skeptical but gratefully married woman married to a man who has had to suffer more than any human should ever have to and decided that living on love and knowing it can all be gone in a minute is exactly how she wanted to live.
I am not the same which I guess is what bothers you. But I can’t apologize for who I have become. I am who I am meant to be. God didn’t give me this storm to come out the same on the other side. He gave me this storm to show myself I am a fighter and that I don’t need anyone else to tell me I can do this. Because I did it. I am doing it and I tell myself every single day because there is an existence of a better day.
-Jewel (words in italics and in the picture)