Life is full of choices. I recently told a client that from the time we wake up in the morning, we are inundated with the task of deciding. Some will argue that they don’t make any choices but trust me, you do.
The last five weeks have been replete with absolute acts of terror that has, collectively, attempted to make me give up. This sycophant crept into my home wrapped around my eldest son and then came for me. You know the one, the fake one. The one you can only get if you have 5G. The one that is trying to stop everyone from having “fun.” The one that was so bad that it stopped the whole world, but that is also so insignificant that schools should open fully—-besides only children and teachers will die.
I started having symptoms before I knew that they were symptoms. I was markedly more fatigued, irritable, and suffered from brain fog. Then two weeks ago, I lost the use of my right arm! My body was burning from the inside out and I, a person who is not know for her emotions, cried, screamed, yelled, and finally whimpered. I kept working during the day.
Then the throat pain came. The burning of my saliva was like lava! I originally thought that a tooth that had been giving me some problems was acting up but in reality it was the nerve that extended from my jaw down. Again, I was reduced to vocal tears because unlike most of my battles, I couldn’t do it alone.
So I made a choice.
I took to social media and let my followers know what I was going through. They trust me. They know that I would be honest about this thing and my experience. The outpouring of prayers and kind words were just what this lover of words needed. It was medicine to my soul.
Then there was a knock at the door. My son enters and hands me a beautiful bouquet of flowers! A friend sent them to me with a note of love attached. I loved the flowers, but for me it was the words that pierced my countenance.
Honestly, I never expected anyone to reach out to me. I never expected it, so I don’t know that I would have ever been cognizant enough to know if it had happened before. When your sole purpose is to help others, it is so easy to forget about yourself. And I do. And I teach others to forget about me, too. I don’t do it intentionally and perhaps others just follow suit. But it is important for the people that we love and need to hear or see our feelings for them—-before they die.
As much as I tout being independent, can you imagine how difficult it has been for my husband and sons! I can be a tiny terror if left alone with sharp objects! HA! Needing help and refusing to ask and then watching me knock over everything——a hot mess! But each, in his own way, waited to help me. My husband almost never leaves my side. I’m on week three now (first two was my son) and I still feel like cookie dough, but I choose to be thankful for the love that is healing me more than this virus is hurting me.