Two weeks ago today, I had stomach surgery. They out a stomach pace maker in to try and see if the rhythms in my stomach can be regulated, and therefore relieve the source of such discomfort for me. Here's where I'm at: I'm 20 years old. A little more than four years ago, I was perfectly healthy, playing ball and hanging out with friends. It has finally occurred to me that I have a chronic illness, meaning that I am going to be sick until my last breath. It's a pretty sobering thought. I'm scared and very, very tired. I have to grit through each day, just to get a unrestful night's sleep, so I can start all over again. I know that by the strength of God I am able to survive each day, but I don't want to have to try to survive each day. Fighting the high, heavy waves for air is physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausting. Life's hard enough without having to feel wrung out at the end of every day.
As the waves strike the rocks along the shores during a massive storm, there is an explosive spray upon impact and sometimes pieces of the rock are broken away. That is what's happening to me now. If I ever feel the waters receding, making me feel in control again, I am blindsided by the impact, realizing that it was just the vicious ebb and flow of the ocean. I'm breaking. I'm tired, lost, and confused, and the constant wear and tear of the waves are breaking my steady rock of foundation. I'm fighting to stay strong, and I'm fighting to survive.
As the pieces of me began to erode away, I made a very hard decision. The one who's stood by me for two and a half years, I asked him to leave for higher ground for a while. I felt (still feel) unstable, and that's not a solid foundation for a good relationship. We're both young and I've found that there is no handbook on how to manage life with a chronic illness, so much of it seems just trial and error. And we were experiencing more errors than anything else. We love each other with all of our hearts, but if I'm drowning, I can't be who I need to be for both him or me. I've been ostracized, it feels, for my decision. Understandably so. But I honestly believe that I made the right choice. I want to focus on recovering the pieces of me lost at sea, I want to use all of my strength to get better. But then again, I could be just making another error. I'm so tired, and I can't breathe with the waves constantly crashing down on me.
Honestly, I just want to skip town. Take my camera and go back to Montana. Everything seems clearer there, that God's presence is so easily recognizable. I just want to go for a drive, and not stop. I don't want to hurt the ones I love anymore by lashing out while under the stress of the storm. I am completely clueless of which direction I should take to weather the storm, each way I turn all I can see are giant waves, causing the horizon to be blocked from my vision. One wave exclaims that there is no hope in this illness, the pace maker will not provide me with the necessary relief to get through each day. Another shouts that I have made the wrong decision, and that I always will. Another wave declares that I am a disappointment to me family. Most of the waves scream that my life is in pieces. The oppressiveness of the waves cause me to despair. The only thing I know to do is to push myself to wait patiently on the Lord, for one day He will deliver me from this storm, and He will restore my foundation.
