I had this idea for a post, another letter to my pancreas, with a few other quips about how my Immunity is failing within me. Pretty much I’m attacking myself from the inside out and I’m really tired of using my body in such a way that results in this kind of health.
Granted, it could just be my lot in life, which I totally get and am trying to accept but I really loved the idea of being healthy. I was pretty attached to it, actually.
And I was going to be a little cocky and offer you something else incase you didn’t want to read my rant, so I started looking through YouTube for a great short video with kittens in it. Maybe that Elephant and Dog? A baby hippo?
Instead I found this and, inspirational music aside, the story of Dick and Rick Hoyt always makes me cry. The ugly cry. The deep in my soul, recognition tears of the yearning inside of me.
I’ve seen these movies and heard about their story for years and it no matter how long I go between reminding myself, I always get caught here. It means something new to me each time I see it.
It’s pretty applicable to me these days: just this morning after posting this I went on a little drive and pretty much yelled at God. A whole lotta “WHAT THE HELL!” and a little “I DON’T KNOW HOW ANYMORE”‘s. I’m pretty angry and I have no where to put it, so I just put it … out.
I see Dick Hoyt carrying his son through this race and it’s amazing but also painful because the people in my life who I thought would champion me like that made it very clear recently that they do not. At all. Shades of gray, really. He said, she said. I believe. You’re wrong, I’m right. Shut up.
I have been used enough and I refuse to engage the battle any more. The theme in our house lately is simple: we just say “Fuck em!” often and in-between the silence that’s usually pregnant with this pain.
I’m not a quitter but I have a right to fight for me and so I will. I am. Cutting ties, releasing expectations, feeling a little lost but finally found all at the same time.
I can’t speak for someone I don’t know personally and have never met, but part of me wonders if Dick (the dad) thinks that it’s a little silly to be such an inspiration to so many people. I would hope it’s not lost on him. But at the end of the day he’s just doing what he thinks any parent would. He’s loving his son, he’s living out the phrase we all quietly offer to our kids as insurance for their future, “I just want you to be happy.”
Truth is, as a parent I know the truth, and his kind? The kind who follow through and sacrifice, they’re the rare ones.
So yep, my immune system thinks I’m a playground and it often forgets to post the rules of Red Rover before it’s starts reciting “Red Rover, Red Rover, We want your sinuses to come over!” so I admittedly feel just a tad left out through all of this. But putting things into perspective: my wallowing and self pity is so clearly not getting me any where at all. Not better, not worse. Just stagnant.
And if you don’t already know this about me, I fight stagnant like I’d imagine a Roach fights the ice box. Just keep trying, Life. Because when you take the F out of Life … you get Lie. And Me and F? We say Fuck That.