The Hidden Things

 So, how are you? 

You're kidding, right?

Not at all. You appear to feel better.

Well, if you pump enough of the right drugs into me... then I guess I'm feeling better.

Oh...

It's true. Pain levels have plummeted since they increased the pills.

That's not what I meant. 

Do you mind if I sit down? Thanks. I know what you meant. I'm fine.

Oh my. I thought that -

Look, it's been the worst three months I've had in 16 years. I've watched my life overturned... again. I've been in more physical pain that I have ever been in my 69 years. I felt more terror that I've known since I was a child. So, if I seem a little distressed, well, there's a reason.

You were very angry. 

Yes.

You're still vibrating with anger, but you're hiding it well. 

I'm not hiding it. If no one knows, they chose not to see. 

I'm sorry.

I'm not angry at you. 

Ah....

OK. I have been. I am. Can we not talk about this. It's excruciating.  

You think I failed you. That I don't care. Perhaps that I caused this?

No. Not that. I know you didn't cause it. 

..........

Did you fail me? I feel I did something wrong, and this is punishment. That my prayers were meaningless. No matter what decisions I made, no matter what prayers I prayed, and no matter what I did, there was no hope of a different outcome. Never. 

I understand. 

That. Does. Not. Fix. Anything. 

You're still angry.

This doesn't feel like anger. It feels like a huge, gaping wound where my life is pouring out. Not sure there is a patch big enough to fix that. I can't fix it. And when the prayers were prayed, so many prayers, so very many prayers, you didn't fix it. It lay there like a viper waiting to jump out and bite me. And here I am. I won't even talk about the pain. It's not anger. It's a roaring, raging pain. Sounds like anger, but don't worry. It's just pain.

You are important to me. You matter. You...

Don't matter. It's not about me! I don't care about me! That's what I keep saying. I don't matter. I care about the people I love. They matter. So if I rant and scream and rail against the things thrown at them, it's not about me. It's about them, and that is all that matters. If there's anger, it's because we don't get a choice about any of this. You know better than anyone about my life. It never mattered at all. 

I am grateful for all the wonderful moments I received. So very, very thankful. I'd have shot myself long ago had it not been for those shining moments that shone light in the darkness. I'm so thankful I can't even express it in words. But this, this thing ... I can't talk about it. It's monstrously ugly and I am so not capable of handling it. I can't handle it ever.

I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry. 

I know. 

#ConversationsWithHim