Posted by: Ingrid | July 27, 2007

One month out

In this farewell/There’s no blood/There’s no alibi                                                                

‘Cause I’ve drawn regret/From the truth/Of a thousand lies                                          

 So let mercy come/And wash away/What I’ve done                                                  

  I’ll face myself/To cross out what I’ve become/Erase myself                                   

  And let go of what I’ve done                                                                                   

   Put to rest/What you thought of me                                                                       

   While I clean this slate/With the hands of uncertainty                                            

    For what I’ve done/I start again                                                                              

  And whatever pain may come/Today this ends      

I’m forgiving what I’ve done                                               

One month.  There is not enough space.  I am tired of dealing with myself, tired of dealing with others who have to deal with me, tired of the mixed message that I don’t have to be okay but why am I not okay?  I suppose it doesn’t much matter.  I suppose that life will go back to normal, at least on the surface.  I suppose I can return to a more benign form of the being okay and functioning that I knew several years ago.  But it’s infuriating to know that what is ultimately taught and lived out is productivity over people.  It hurts to think the pain and vulnerability of healing isn’t what’s valued and that, in the end, functionality triumphs over health and being whole.  It hurts to hear the nagging whispers that it wasn’t worth it after all.  And maybe it wasn’t.


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