Wailing

Yesterday was a fairly good day. I had a presentation that went well, a test that went also relatively well, hung out with a couple super cool people during an hour break, and went to two more classes. But as I got to my last one, I thought a bit before I went in. And I came up with this thought: I had gotten a bit mad the last time I had gone, I was tired, it was hot, and I didn't want to get my nice clothes all dusty and sweaty. So instead of going to class, I went to Bree's house. Because I can be there.

After sitting on a big fluffy chair for a while, I realized that I was hurting. After an almost-completely productive day, I realized that I was in pain.

I kinda feel like I do when I'm sick. I can push the limits for a little bit, but once I push to the absolute max, I realize that I am still sick and need to rest. And for a while I feel worse than I did before.

And I'm still very conscious of the pain and discomfort.

So now I wonder why I'm writing this post. Is it so that my voice can be heard and my pain realized a bit more by other people? Maybe. I guess so. In some cultures, people show their pain by wailing. They make it obvious to other people. I think that's cool. Our culture has a severe dislike and fear of pain. Even some of you reading this may be experiencing this. If you've thought, "I wonder how I can help Sarah get through this... I wonder how I can save her," then you're being affected by our culture's way of handling pain: snatch the people out of it. Well, my friends, I have news. You can't. This is my form of wailing--I'm in pain, and I want people to know about it. But I know that people can't do anything about it. I guess I just want people to know.

Some might think that it will generally get easier every day as the new reality sits in and I start getting used to it. Nope. Not at all. On the contrary, it's getting harder. As the days go by that I don't see my mom, the new reality sets in, and I miss her more. Yesterday I sat and remembered her hugs. At this time of the semester (the panicky crunch time), she's the one I'd call most often to get support and encouragement. Yep, I miss her more every day.

Now this is the appropriate place in the post to mention something about the Hope God's given me to get through. But honestly, if I were to put that in this note, it would be for your benefit. I honestly don't want to muster up the energy to try to reach for light. This is where I am, and the only light is hidden. I know it's there, but it's hidden. So I am not going to make anything up to make it sound like I've reached a solution or a certain level of comfort. Because I haven't.

This post, on a very uncomfortable note, ends here.