September 28, 2019

I can’t do a damn thing properly. I can’t see clearly. I can’t speak intelligibly. I can’t eat normal foods. I can’t focus. I can’t sleep well. I can’t regulate my body temperature. I can’t stand for too long. I can’t remember the basics. I can’t move normally. I can’t work on much of anything. I can’t even think straight. And at moments like this, the struggle feels utterly debilitating, entirely crippling and seemingly futile.

 

Yes, my rational brain knows there is light, recognizes the relativity of my suffering and counts abundant blessings of life, safety and community. Yes, I give myself permission to be weak or angry or sad in the face of this accident and exhausting road of recovery ahead. Yes, I have read Pema Chondron and listened to wise thinkers and meditated and allowed time for my weak body and weary mind to rest. Yes, I know full well that negativity is not helpful, wallowing changes nothing, and manifestation, positivity and perspective can shift everything for the better.

 

But when I am in the volatile throws of frightening obstacles, untold challenges and bewildering hardship, when unrelenting bad news from every direction compounds the treacherous realities I alone am living and processing and experiencing, when I cannot manage to harness any semblance of strength internally or externally, none of that knowledge or reason makes one iota of difference. The pain is certainly not passing, nor do I feel veritable forward progress either medically or mentally on a heretofore uncertain, unclear, unstable journey. And that leaves me trapped in and reeling from a shockingly dark state of mind-numbing confusion, deep despondency and intense sadness.