Happy New Year

I prayed many times for me not to reach this point. Those times I was in terrible physical pain, when I could not even lift myself from bed, days when I watch people do the things I used to enjoy doing, days when taking pills felt like swallowing ashes and pins. I prayed hard that I die. I knelt earnestly at night praying I won’t wake up anymore. I prayed. Pleaded. Bargained even. 

Yet here I am, once again facing another new year with uncertainties. Bigger uncertainties. Uncertainty of not knowing if I’m still going to recover. Uncertainty of wondering if I can still do the things I used to do. Uncertainty on whether I can still bear this pain, watch the people I love suffer as they watch me suffer. 

I wish I could tell you I’m hopeful. I wish I could tell you I’d be greeting the new year with wide-eyed hope, a grin in my drying mouth, shoulders squared with head held high in quiet anticipation. 

I’m angry. I want to throw my fist at things, want to kick and throw things out, shout and cuss until my lungs gave in. I want to run. I want to run until I ran out of ground to race through. I shouldn’t be here. I know I shouldn’t be. 

But don’t tell me things will be okay. We both know that we both don’t know that. Tell me my thoughts are valid. Tell me it’s fine if I die. Tell me that I can be angry. Give me the knife. Give me the glasses to break. Give me the fire to burn. 

Please remember. 

Happy New Year!