I’m struggling here. There, I said it, I’m struggling.
I’m in the middle of writing my daily share and my mind continuously wanders off down this path my heart keeps following. I find myself staring out the window, watching the sunlight dance on the web a spider strung across the shepherd’s hook where my hummingbird feeders had been. The sky is covered slightly in wispy clouds, making the sunlight appear to be shining through lace. The temperature is just above freezing, but the day is still glorious. Yet my heart aches.
Being empathic stinks sometimes.
It has a lot to do with why I tend to hide out here. It has a lot to do with why I quit watching the news and strive to remain knowledgeable in a safe for my heart manner. Yet today, and for a lot of the recent past, that hasn’t worked. Christmas did help. Being with family in that carefully controlled way, helped. Hearing the excited laughter of children, helped. Yet all the while in the back of my head, the thoughts were lurking. My heart temporarily shielded.
Pain.
There is so much pain. An incredible amount of suffering. Immeasurable in its depths and extent. Some of it is seen. It is out there in the closed businesses. The many who are seeking jobs. Those in the long lines hoping to get one more box of food. Those gathering at the many charity drives, hoping for something, anything that will help them and their family. It is seen in the growing number of people on the side of roadways holding cardboard signs seeking help. Their eyes downcast, hiding the hopelessness in their broken spirit.
Pain.
This pandemic from hell has created pain is so many ways. Especially in the loss caused by death. How many have died from this? I won’t go into any of the politics, nor will I go into the debate over the actions of others. They have been covered well by people more talented than I. My point here, is the pain from losing those loved. The pain brought by the empty spot at the table. The pain brought by the memories, the need, the love with nowhere to go.
Pain.
The pain of struggling before the insanity of this year. Those who were homeless. Those addicted to chemical substances. Those suffering illness. The pain that covers the landscape with a darkness, a dark that many choose to ignore, believing it not their problem. Not their concern. I have seen online, the pain of others. I read it in their words. I feel it between the written and unwritten. The videos made where they cry out for someone, anyone to understand. Crying out, seeking resolution in some form or fashion. Seeking someone to hear them.
I am no better than anyone else. In fact, I often anger myself for hiding here. My heart standing on that path, feeling that suffering. My mind seeing the hurting. And I hide. Because the pain is overwhelming at times. I applaud those who go out there in that field. I applaud those who stand in the food kitchens, who volunteer in the shelters, who work the lines at donation centers. I cheer you own, hoping humble words encourage you, when your own strength grows weak, your will weary. Because it never ends.
I think, that while my own loss of employment angered me and left me depressed in the beginning, it was in truth a door opening. I think, that my heart and mind, are trying to show me that fact. That rather than hide here, bleeding mere words onto a page, I need to follow that path and seek to try to bring what small amount of light I possess in my own humble abilities and try to help ease that pain. It is what we were instructed to do after all. Take care of the poor, the widows, the children. I can’t do that hiding here. And that, I believe, is why I am struggling.
Words from The Dirt Road 