I haven’t written here in a long while for a reason. I am overwhelmed with the uncertainty of so many things going on. None of which I can air here, or anywhere else for that matter. It’s like a cloud hanging over my head, threatening to burst a rainstorm at any minute. You know it’s there, and yet there isn’t anywhere to run for shelter from it. Run. It’s what I have always done best, when things get scary for me. Either to booze, drugs, music, new apartments, new towns or new men. Anything to escape the realities that scare or upset me.

I’m not running. I’m praying, constantly. It helps for a while. But eventually I let the fears overtake me, and I’m right back where I started from. I’m trying to be strong for him. And be there for him, when the fears overtake him. By the time I’m done giving him the words I feel are so very necessary, to keep him from sinking, I feel so depleted of my own faith. And I keep praying.

Today, I just lost all strength, and didn’t want to fall apart, so I slept the whole morning away. I thought it would pass with the morning, but it seems it only delayed the inevitable. Well I’ve always felt a good cry makes you feel better afterwards. Except there has been more than one of those over the past month. And why is it, that whenever I’m overcome with tears, I never have kleenex? Seriously. I buy it. It just is always gone when emotional trauma strikes. So I end up going through a roll of toiletpaper blowing my nose and wiping away tears. Thankfully we use charmin. Nice and soft. See, the silver lining. Yes, that’s part sarcasm.

From the beginning of our marriage we have always felt it important to not only count our blessings, but thank God for them. We did. And we do. Daily. Honestly, several times a day these days. I lose faith, and drop in prayer. He loses faith and I try and give him mine. I don’t believe I have ever seen this strong man, shaken to the core as he is right now. He has never doubted himself before. And it scares me to see him do so now. Scares me and makes me angry!

The problem with that is usually I’ll strike back like a pitbull locking my jaw and not letting go until I feel justice is served for those I love. Not this time. Reason and common sense are prevailing. But at what price? The facts are no matter how much we may feel we have control, none of us do. We’re only deluding ourselves to believe we are in control of ANYTHING. There but by the Grace of God go I. Or him. Or you.

This time, it isn’t like when he had surgery. I had enough medical background to be that pitbull. This time he has to fight this battle with little more than a pep talk from me. And lots of prayer.  For some reason we both reclaim what we try and put into God’s hands. CONSTANTLY. It’s exhausting and emotionally draining. And we see the enemy attack, and are powerless to do anything about it. It’s moments like these, when all we see is the ugliness in human behavior. And yes, I realize it’s in all of us. The ugliness. The “old nature.”

I also know that God will allow for us to go through the fire, in order to learn something he wants us to learn. Right now, I’m not seeing the lesson in all of it. I have enough faith to know there is one. But like any petulant child, I don’t want to go through the fire. Pride? Maybe. I’m leaning towards plain old fashion fear of the future, and what it may hold.

Amazing that the dark cloud is hitting in what used to be our most favorite time of year. Starting with Halloween and the pumpkin patch. Of course this year the kids weren’t into it. If that weren’t enough, we’re going to go through Thanksgiving with the doubts and uncertainty hanging over our heads the whole time. This is a case of being glad we’ll have a house full of company. We’re going to be so busy cooking and entertaining, there will be no room in our minds to dwell on the future. We’ll actually be forced to do what we should be doing all along. Living in the moment.

But this week has held enough fear and doubt to last the rest of the month. I’m hoping so anyway. To top it all off, we have to go to a benefit dinner this Saturday. To help families in crisis, whether it be financial or domestic violence. The irony there? I have a black eye. I was able to get him to laugh at that one. For a few minutes anyway. And no, this gentle man I’m married to, has never hit me. This was caused by my own stupidity.

We have a 4 ft. tall laundry basket, that was empty. The kittens were playing around it, when Paul stuck Mr. Big into it. He was sticking his adorable paws through the holes in the side, playing with his sister when I stuck my head in the top of the basket, that was sitting right next to a solid wood 4 ft. stand alone jewerly armoire. And when my adorable kitten lunged for my face, (as I could have predicted, had I been thinking clearly) I pulled myself out so hard and quickly I nailed the corner of my outer eye on the wood weapon, once known as a jewerly armoire. Coldcocked myself into next week. Tada! Black eye. He keeps saying if I can’t cover it with makeup well enough, we won’t go. Which is ridiculous.

I have always been a klutz. It’s one of the reasons my parents put me into ballet as a child. Came in handy for excuses when I was married to a beater. (Bad joke. But it’s my past, so I can joke about it if I want to) I love morbid humor, especially when I’m down and depressed. If it offends, the X-out is in the right hand top corner. bye-bye.

Well, I’ve managed to type my way right out of tears, and it only took a post the size of War & Peace.

It amazes me that as I age, the more I actually fear. When I was young and stupid, but thought I had all the answers, I don’t remember fear. A lot of partying and a few whopper hang-overs, but no fear. I don’t remember ever worrying about the future. In the words of Scarlet O’Hara (Gond w/the Wind) tomorrow was always another day. As well as, “I can’t think about that right now. I’ll think about it tomorrow.” And I let go of whatever was bothering me. Admittedly, there was usually chemical substances involved in those days. Now the thought of chemical substances that help one forget, usually brings me to the thoughts of dropping dead of a heart attack. And then I picture the obit. that my children would see, and that’s enough to make me cringe from their use, even in my youth. Oh to be young again.

For the moment, I’m at least out of tears. When talking about life and it’s many problems and heartaches, in the words of my Dad; “It’s just a bus ride.” (He’s an Intercity Transit Busdriver)