My Heart: Raw and Uncensored
Warning: This posting contains actual truth and authenticity. You will find no spin or fake spirituality that will create a warm, fuzzy feeling in your gizzard. Read at your own risk.
Originally Posted Saturday, August 30, 2008
I've been dealing with chronic illness for nearly 16 years, so I'm no novice. I've been through many time periods when my chronic illnesses became acute, and I feel like I had to drop off the grid for several months. I can remember my first experience with this when I was a sixteen-year-old junior in high school. An apparently healthy, physically fit, athletic type up to that point, I had suddenly developed this very large growth on my left ovary. Out of the blue I went from worrying about grades and boyfriends and music and sports to discussing the possibility of cancer and a hysterectomy. It was definitely a paradigm shift for a lively, spirited teenage girl. So I had the surgery,which didn't go well, and then I almost died from the anesthesia and from almost bleeding to death, and this little blip of horror on the screen of my well-planned-out life ate up nearly half of my junior year.
Of course, life went on for all my friends and schoolmates. I did have a handful of friends who literally visited me every single day in the hospital. But the months of recovery at home were long and lonely. A lot of my friends stopped calling and coming by, busy with the activities of school and life. I remember my parents taking me by my school one afternoon as it was letting out for the day; they thought perhaps a quick visit with my friends would cheer me up. I saw excited faces of students gossiping about weekend plans, most of my peers were getting their driver's licenses, and probably most shocking of all to me was that volleyball season was in full swing. I had been a starter on the team for two seasons now, and we had hopes for capturing the state title by our senior year. One of my best friends comes by wearing my "42" jersey. My heart did a nose dive...why was she wearing my number? She explained she had outgrown her jersey and since mine was not being used, coach just had her change numbers. And just like that, I had been forgotten and replaced. It hurt...terribly.
Like I said, that was the first time, but there have been many more of those seasons in my life. And there are more ahead. Each time, the loneliness and the grief of my life passing me by while I lie in my house, unable to leave the prison of my illness, gnaws away at my heart. Have I been forgotten? Have I been replaced? Do people miss me? Do they care? The phone doesn't ring, the doorbell doesn't ring, but the isolation rings loudly around my very soul. Then comes the next phase: returning to my life. I anticipate this with a kind of anxious dread. I have started to feel like I can begin slowly returning to my normal activities, a list which has consistently grown smaller over the years.
One of the biggest is church. Church. How I wish there was a way to attend the service incognito. I'd rather avoid the stares, the questions, the glances that seem to ask, "where has she been?" Most of all, I wish I could avoid the inevitable chorus of joyful greetings, hugs, and exclamations over my return. The attention is nice, especially for one who spends most of her time with silent, furry, unhuman friends. But then the thoughts come creeping in. "Why are they so happy to see me? Where have they been for the past few months? If they really missed me, why didn't they call? Why didn't they visit? Why didn't they send a card or an email? Should I ask them this out loud or just be grateful they notice me at all?"
The easiest thing would be to postpone my "grand entrance" for one more week. Maybe two. Maybe more. Maybe not at all. After all, I can read my Bible at home, watch the service on the internet like I've been doing for months. Pastor's message sounds the same from home as it does in person. I'm not sure I'm quite ready to come back. A little more time...that's what I need. I'm not totally feeling like myself yet. My clothes are tight from those extra pounds I gained being sedentary for so many months. I'll just wait until I lose the weight and I'm not feeling so emotionally fragile. After all, who will notice if I'm gone a little longer? It's not like I've heard from anyone. I'm sure someone else has been learning my choir solos and has been assigned to my choir folder number and my assigned seat by now. I don't need people anyway. Me and Jesus have been hanging out together, and we don't need anyone else in our group.
You're probably waiting for the great spiritual lesson that I've learned from all this, the Scripture that I cling to when I'm in this situation. But the truth is, my fragile faith has not yet mastered this area of my life. It still hurts when life passes me by. It still hurts to be alone and to not be missed. I still dread seeing people I know. I still try to find excuses to avoid social situations. I'm still human, and I'm still growing. But I promised to be open and honest and to share the intimate details of my life with all of you. So there it is. Raw and uncensored.
