I want to get on here, and tell you that I'm doing just fine, am picking up the pieces and holding it together.
It's also true that it's taking every fiber of strength I can muster, every second of the day, to keep my head above water right now. I'm torn about sharing it with you; I don't want to suck out your souls from constant whining.
On the other hand, I want to scream from the fucking rooftops: MY SON IS GOING TO WAR! WAR! STOP WHAT YOU'RE DOING AND LISTEN, DAMMIT. YOU WORK WITH ME, YOU READ MY BLOG, YOU SERVE MY COFFEE, AND RING UP MY GROCERIES! IF IT TOUCHES ME, IT MUST TOUCH YOU ALSO, DON'T YOU SEE? SIX DEGREES OF SEPARATION! IT'S ABOUT ALL OF US!
I feel a tad panicky at times.
I wrote, a week or so ago, of a few of my irrational fears. The entry came to mind as I try to come to grips with completely rational fears.
Folks have asked me, "got any fun plans this winter?" Yes. I plan on worrying.
And still others, "Any plans this year? Any vacations?"
Vacation? Vacation?! How could I possibly think about a vacation, I'll be so busy...worrying! Oh, that's not all: I'll be waiting.
Yes, that's my plan. I am going to fret, and wait, and fear, and worry, for 16-24 months, and buy bottles and bottles of Rogaine, for when my hair starts falling out.
Or maybe I'll get a grip on this fear, and it won't be as paralyzing as I think it is.
At this moment, my worries are based on speculation. Oh, I know they're justifiable, but wasn't it also justifiable for me to worry about my son's riding his bike in traffic? or his being killed or injured in an automobile accident when he first got his driver's license? Alcohol poisoning at a party? Breaking his back, diving?
How much energy can I invest into speculation and hypothetical situations? How many headaches? How much sleep can I lose? How many tears can I shed?
How is that constructive for me? For Brian? For everyone around me?
I know, oh, I know, what the possibilities are here. You'd be amazed at how many people feel a need make sure a soldier's mother knows everything that might happen to him: "Well, if he doesn't die, he could still lose a limb. Or worse." Really? Gosh, that had never crossed my mind, thank you for pointing that out. I liken it to folks that feel inclined to tick off, to a cancer patient, all of the people they know who died from the same thing.
I do not address that last paragraph to anyone that has shared their own heartache to me about this nasty war. Some of you have written to me your stories of your sons, brothers, friends, who have had heinous experiences there. You have my undivided attention. I will listen, no matter how it scares me; you and yours are in my prayers every single day. I love that you cared enough to share, I ache that you ache.
As I try to overcome my fears and heartaches here, I do not intend to run from the reality of this war. It would be an absolute impossibility for me.
I seek, merely,
Who of you, by worring, can add a single hour to his life? Luke 12:25