Mirror, Mirror

I did not realize that I have been writing this blog for over a year. So much has changed. So many unexpected turns. Although I have been through a lot, I still feel like I am waiting for an outcome; a finale or even the climax of the story. Which part of the book am I in? There is no definitive answer.

I continue to look to a past that doesn’t feel as though it belongs to me. A smiling, active woman, with long brown hair. She had a job she loved. She lived in a community that fit her just right. She’s surrounded by 3 loving children and a husband. Birthday parties, Christmases, vacations, but they don’t feel like they belong to me. I continue to grieve for all that I have lost.

While I am not the prisoner I once was, I still feel like I am on house arrest. I cannot do the things I want to do. My body holds the keys and I am still cuffed. We are currently in Cape Cod. It is a beautiful, comforting place. But it also holds physical obstacles that I cannot overcome. I feel like a spectator in everyone else’s life. A child that needs cared for and looked after. And I envy those who don’t realize what they take for granted. the simplicity of a sunset walk.

I aged 40 years in 4 months. And when I look in the mirror, it is an 80 year old woman that I already see. But few things around me have changed. My kids are still little. My husband is still young. My friends are exactly where I left them, only I have changed. It is just so displacing. It seems like only yesterday, I was in college, while my healthy self feels like it has been over with for decades. When will the image I see, reflect who I am inside? When will the warden let me go for crimes I am innocent of? When will I be me again?

We are within a month of leaving Boston. I can’t believe it. I remember distinctly driving through a wintery, barren city and wondering if I would see the budding of spring ever again.

I wept when I saw this image. It is above the PET scan machine at Dana Farber. The technician didn’t know a single tree in this picture; whereas for me it instantly reminded me of home. I prayed deeply that I would see these trees again. And I soon will return to the deep, muggy heat of Kentucky. What story is to be written there? What image will look back at me from the mirror?

I seek the guidance of a greater Being. I yearn for knowledge I have yet to earn. I know that God can help me feel fulfilled again. Can help me be me again. Hopefully a better me? I struggle with this, because I didn’t think I was a bad me before. How patient do I have to be? Where are you in this process Lord? What do you need me to see? How do I find these answers? You are the author. I am the book. Settle my heart, heal my spirit, bring me home.

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