I am introducing a story today that will touch your hearts. I wish the world could run faster to stem the flow, the pain that exists in humanity. I go to bed every night feeling that if I could, I would trade places with those suffering—to give them solace—even for a day. Here is an example of acute sensitivity. Fortunately, there are those of us who are solid in recognition of ourselves and we are able help from a strong, secure place. Then it becomes ok to feel this much. We do not need a shell to protect us because having feelings is human. Emotional health is balanced and tempered with logic and objectivity.
i want to share what i remember from you being here, while doing your book tour. you won't remember me, because there were so many people, but there is beauty in here somewhere and i just want you to know what i remember. you are so much braver than me, that much is obvious.
~~~velvet black casualish dress, a zipper up the middle bugging me slightly. i'm overdressed, typical, there are others here in tanks and jeans. sit up front, good students sit there. her eyes, my gosh, her eyes. so much more she speaks with her eyes than with her words. i've read the book so i'm paying far more attention to what her face says because i'm enthralled. i clutch my book tightly, making notes on a bit of paper, to not sully the pages within.
weird little world here. i wonder why there are so many of us. [My town] is relatively small but the ED units are always busy. my friend works there so i know. my own little rural town full of competition consciousness churned out many patients. i hope i don't see anyone i know.
so many people, the pain is so real, so big, and suddenly i am very, very small. though up front, i wait for the middle of the line, to not stand out and i succeed i think. people usually stare at me but not as much tonight. i hurt for those that are being stared at, i know that discomfort. the table is wide, and she sits in the center. i turn over my book and wonder why i didn't leave before now.
i must have asked something, she says something loving and sweet to me. do not cry, do not cry, hurry up. my face must be purple even in contrast to the dim room and black dress. there is more there in her eyes because she sees the pain, she feels it, she must get exhausted with it all, and i break that contact. she scans the line, the room, the ones waiting behind and to my right, the ones who need her most. i can feel what she's feeling. it hurts so much. it makes such little sense. it was never supposed to be like this.
it will be another six years before i can make some sense of it,
even if it doesn't make sense to the world.
i slip silently away, back to my car in the garage.
To [Me] with much Love and Hugs, Peggy Claude Pierre
the Love and Hugs capital, interesting. a fax number in the binding. she writes a lot bigger than me. her P's much different than mine. the tears slip down my face, rivers of feeling that nobody has succeeded in understanding. isn't pain just pain? what's wrong with me? why doesn't anybody understand?
i pray for the others in that room. i pray that things will wrap up soon, it's already late. i pray for Peggy to be okay, to not feel so intently, to be able to sleep. i shove back my tears because i have to drive now, to go back to my life, not telling where i've been, smiling on the outside.~~~
i've never forgotten that night, Peggy. you may have been more comfortable that night than anyone. it was hard to sit there and not want to slip into a pocket in your shirt and go away to some soft place. i cried while i listened to you, silent tears quickly caught with tissue. i had other people counting on me. i always do. the soft place wasn't for me. being in that room it was so obvious. there's a lot of internal conflict in my brain and heart. i'm tired a lot lately so it makes it a lot worse. i'll try really hard to not judge my feelings so much. when you say nice things to me it's like a trip wire that sends a barrage of negativity back to me because, well, i don't know why exactly, it just happens.* it was easier to hope back then. twelve years is a long time for an erosion of hope. even one drop per hour on a large rock over that time would cause a deep fissure.
i will remain watchful of your blog and i am always grateful for you telling the truth.
*At this point, in this stage, if anybody is kind to the sufferer, the ‘Negative Mind will fight back with a vengeance to retain its status. As well the sufferer is always the last to deserve anything. In his or her mind, every other person is more worthy than she is. Because of this way of thinking, it is VERY difficult for the CNC sufferer to ask for help.
With love, understanding, and persistence in caring for each individual sufferer from her community of support, strides can be made to alter negative thinking.