If I could choose 10 days to give back to time, I’d choose the last ten.
Between my usual six month cancer checkup (to see if I’m still in remission or not), a relationship ending, and my brother in critical care and suffering from ICU Delirium, the stresses of my life cut through any desire to do much, including writing more than a few words.
What do you do when life rides so heavy on you that you don’t want to get out of bed?
I jotted down bits and pieces of words in my bedside journal. Sometimes it was a curse word, other days I don’t remember what I wrote until I looked back.
This is what my journal said one day:
I think we’re on the brink of change, like a jeep tottering over a cliff in an action movie. Will it fall or won’t it. Will we be saved or crash and burn? I pray and pray. I show up in life. I try to write, read, concentrate, but all I want to do is cry.
On that day I prayed continuously for my brother to progress. And then I rested and cried.
Another day my journal reminded me to take time out, be grateful, meditate, pray, take it easy. And I tried to do that.
I’m well acquainted with the valleys of life, but for the last few days it’s been particularly hard. Perhaps, it’s because I feel I’ve been hit on three sides; too many whammies at once.
It’s getting the gumption, the ganas as we say in Spanish, to move forward that eluded me.
But, I know things will get better, and I thank God I am still in remission and my brother is slowing progressing. It really is one hour at a time, then one day at a time, for a while.
Today, while returning home from the hospital, I opened my Bible scriptures app (yes, there’s an app for that):
Come to me all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest…-Matthew 11:28
I smiled at that. And then I put in my earbuds and listened to meditation music on my cell phone, while my sister drove us home. Among the soothing music a gentle voice said:
Put away the ghosts of the past, the worry about the future, and stay in the here and now. Stay in the present moment. Surrender.
Again, I felt comforted. I am encouraged.
These small acts have made a big difference. In my heart, I feel the ganas returning.
Thank you for listening.
alvaradofrazier.com 
Thank you for sharing. So sorry to hear that your brother is in critical care and that you are stressed by a relationship. Very glad there was a soothing voice that spoke to you and that you found comfort in scriptures and music. May all be well with you, Mona. I care.
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Your words mean more to me than you know. Thank you.
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I am familiar, as you know, with cancer check-ins…we know what the deal is…choose life, make every day count. Your brother is out of your hands, and is progressing…that is the most difficult of all, I think. Not knowing. So thank you for reminding me that our lives are fragile, and that we can accept our own fears about our own bodies, our personal losses…but cannot endure the pain of a loved one. I am always humbled by your thoughts.
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It’s always supportive to hear from you Suzi. Thank you!
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Wow! That is a really heavy burden to carry. I hope that your brother improves. You do have a great attitude and that helps so much. Take care of yourself.
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Unexpectedly, after I wrote this I felt so much better. My brother is making progress, but we hope for full recovery. Thank you for your encouraging words.
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Thank you for your brutal and yet touching honesty. I wish you peace.
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