Like the Rain

It has been three weeks since I became part of the toll road behind our home. Three weeks since I kept food down, three weeks since I kept my sanity, three weeks since I have been to work, and still I lay here on the bed feet in the air listening to the rain fall against the trees in the distance.

Sometimes I wish we could sink into our surroundings and make them apart of us. I wish I were like the world beyond these walls. I wish I was more like the rain. I envy the way it can fall gently on Aaron’s face on a moonlight stroll along the beach or beat against the ground. I wish I was able to fall as hard as I want to and gently gather myself again. I wish I could flow free from the grounds where I have fallen and glide through the rivers and streams of the mountains. I wish I could become part of the mountains springing new life by the beams of the sun’s light. I want to be the water that feeds the fields in the distance along my journey to the sea.

I want to flow to the sea and crash against its furry without bruising. I want to become part of its power. I wish to surf amongst the top of each wave on my way to a new journey. I wish to know that no matter what happened, I could always flow to the sea and make my way back to the heavens. I start to ask myself what that would be like.

‘What if I were the rain,’ I think. ‘What if I had no fear? What if I could fall to the ground and find peace in the end? What if I could become anything I wanted to be? What if I could tell my children that I was afraid of nothing? What if I had the courage to fall through the lightning in the eye of the storm and still find beauty at the end?’

‘I want to be like the rain,’ I tell myself as I lay here clenching my side in pain. I roll around the bed looking for a comfortable position to rest in. I cry with each wrong turn. I want the pain to stop. I am thirsty. I want to eat and not throw up. I know in the back of my heart that you will not be called home till it is your time but in this pain ridden state, I pray that my time clock will stop ticking at any moment. I know it is wrong to think this way, but I am constantly sick. It is one thing to take time off of work, but when will I get time off of Endometriosis. Sick days no longer mean sick days, now they mean cannot function days. A sick day is a good day; it means all you do is vomit. Today, I roll around in agony unable to digest soft foods like yogurt and Jell-O, but on a sick day, I get up, I go to work, I function. Beyond all the pain, on a sick day, I can still do the things I need to do aware of the exits, restrooms, and accessibility.

I want to hide beneath these blankets and never come out. I want to sleep. I want my mind to turn off and give me a few moments of peace. Instead, I pray that this will soon end. I think about the debilitating pain I feel. I think about how much I hate this. I think about how much I am missing at this moment. I think about all the places in this world I could be other then here.
The pain is excruciating. I cry out yelps and hollers as the pain radiates through me. My body starts to shake. The bed is wet from the buddle of salty; sad tears which have gathered beneath me. I just want this all to end. I just want to be free of this. I scream out in agony. Help me! I feel like my stomach is going to explode at any minute. I imagine Aaron walking in and finding my organs painted across the walls of the bedroom after the blast. I imagine the mess it would make. I imagine that someone would have to wash me off and into the water. I wish to be washed away and free.