Hanging by a thread

I want so desperately to have something funny, witty , and clever to write about. Perhaps I could make something up. Because honestly I have lost my smile and laughing place. And I don't know how to get it back again.

Instead I have a hole the size of a Mac truck in my heart where all my hope used to reside. It feels like someone has placed a large boulder on my chest making it hard to breathe. And my heart is racing a million miles a minute. Nothing I eat even tastes very good, so it seems like a waste of time. And why do my feet feel like they weigh about a 100 lbs each?

It reminds me of the line in Sleepless in Seattle. I think that Tom Hanks character describes what the pain is like best when he says "First I will breathe in, and then I will breathe out." It is like you have to make a conscious decision to go on living.

Little things like fighting through the system of getting my car to pass its smog inspection, seem like insurmountable tasks. Although truthfully I did experience a miracle when on the fourth try, it did pass the smog after getting a new battery which sucked away my time and money.

I suppose all this is just normal grieving stuff. Personally I hate grief, even good grief, Charlie Brown. The only part of grief I like is the denial stage. That part is good because you are still too numb to feel anything. I always say that denial is my favorite stage of grief. Probably not a good sign when you have a favorite stage of grief. Not so much a fan of the anger and pain part of grief. Takes so much energy.

I have a niece who twisted her knee and wrote about how painful it was to sit out of her dance class for just a few days. She felt like life was going on with out her. I can totally relate. It seems every where I look, I am reminded that Jared is missing out on things.

Like on Sundays when all his friends pass the sacrament, I used to feel secret happiness watching him fulfil his priesthood duty. And several of his friends made the high school soccer team. We had even considered that he might give football a try. It seems funny now, but as we drove to the hospital, he actually told me that he didn't want to play sports anymore. I think that was the pain talking, but maybe he was prophetic. He can't mow the lawn. He can't sit through school or seminary or church. He can't even put his socks on by himself. He can't carry a drink of water to where he wants to sit. Will he be able to drive? All these and so many more of these things run through my mind constantly.

We went to the doctor yesterday. A new x-ray shows that his hip is partially dislocated. This can only be fixed by surgery. So we are stopping physical therapy. Jared will be referred to another doctor who specializes in hips. Bottom line, more waiting and wondering what the future will bring.

In the mean time Jared and I are having so much fun together each day. You know the kind of fun where he asks me to help him every 5 minutes, and questions who I am talking to on the phone, and why and what am I talking about. The kind of fun where I hear this all day long: Please get me more water, please get my chair from the shower so I can poop, please take my chair back upstairs to the shower so I can stop smelling bad, Please cook me bacon, Please can I have my lactose pill, Please can you get me clean clothes, Please can you make me something to eat, Please can I have a turn on the lap top, Please can you lift my legs into the car, Please can you let me do it myself because you are hurting me, Please stop looking at me, Please stop talking to me, Please don't sing along to the radio, please take me to my 2 millionth doctor appointment. Yes it is just all kinds of fun 24/7 around here. And if he isn't telling me all these things in person, then he texts them to me.

Apparently even when a master is polite, slavery is still a bummer and not all it is cracked up to be. And perhaps that is one of my biggest griefs. I am suppose to be childless for about 5-6 hours a day. I have been robbed of my freedom and forced into slavery to an invalid child and his unknown future. It really bites, big time.

And then there is the part when I am suppose to get him to do things he doesn't want to do. Like his physical therapy exercises, like his school work on the computer, Like even getting ready to go to an appointment on time. It is just pretty much non stop frustrations, because let's face it there is not really any way I can force a 132 (oh yea, good news, he gained 5 pounds,) so 137 lb kid to do anything. Ultimately he has darn free agency and even though I feel completely responsible, I may not have a choice. Yea, nothing frustrating about that.

I realize that he is completely frustrated about the whole situation. This makes for irritability, and sadly I am the one around to experience most of this joyful behavior.

So pretty much both of us are going crazy. This week I am at the end of my rope and am thinking that one of us has got to die. I volunteer. Today I even spent some time trying to research buying a cemetery plot where my grandparents are buried. It is my new dream, that if I have to live in Vegas for the rest of my life, gosh darn, I will not be buried here. I want to be buried in the Fairview Cemetery in Cache Valley. I think it will be fairly inexpensive. But Jehoshaphat, the Fairview Cemetery does not seem to have a web site. How rude! How else am I suppose to make the plans for my demise? So I suppose I will have to go on living a while longer.

Like I said at the top, I want this blog to be all happiness, laughter, puppies, and sunshine, but sometimes that is just not the way it is. I still kind of remember that things will work out just fine in the end. If not in this life then in the next. Sometimes it just gets hard and we need to sit and cry for a while. So sorry you had to witness my falling apart in blog form. I will go back to being my cheerful happy self someday. For now I hope that you will still keep checking in to see when that day will be. If you enjoyed this melt down you might enjoy this one or maybe this one. Unless you are a faithful reader and never miss a post. In which case, could you please comment, because I am starting to feel like I am talking to myself, which is adding to my deduction that I am crazy. So help a girl out, if you can. Sorry to be so pathetic that I have to beg for comments. Nevermind I take it back.