I haven't known how to describe how I'm feeling. I haven't known how to describe how I felt last Friday when Jamie was admitted to the oncology ward. He is home now, and doing much better after a transfusion of three units of blood. I'm just not sure how I'm doing.
I can't find my words and that is a scary place for a writer to be — because I want to write about it. I need to write about it.
But I can't find my words. Except for that one that I just used: scary. That one applies.
The other one that keeps repeating (and repeating and repeating and repeating) in my mind is control. And that's just ridiculous — that I can't stop thinking of how I couldn't control what was happening. Ridiculous, because I have no control over any of this, and I do know that (don't I?). Ridiculous, because after so much time with so many good therapists, I do know (don't I?) that the only thing I have any control over is how I respond to something. Yet, that is what I seem least able to control right now. I do have to stop crying sometime (don't I?).
I will be able to stop crying and find my strength again (won't I?). I will find my words again and use them to heal myself, as I have so many times before (I will. I know I will).
But I don't think it's going to happen today.