Life’s challenges keep trying to knock me down these days. I think that I’ve finally hit rock bottom and can start climbing up and out of the well of despair. Crawling and scratching, I try maintaining a positive attitude. I try to remember “This too shall pass, good things will come around again” and “I know some day I will appreciate and learn from these challenges.” But I lose grip and slip deeper into the cold dark chasm.
. After a morning in bed, I can no longer stand it. Years of practice forcing myself out of bed despite the pains, nausea, and other chronic symptoms keep me from wallowing and asking, “Why me?” My dear mother offers suggestions and wants to make it all better. But I know I need to find my own way.
Devoted black labs stand guard nearby and play a role in my recovery. They carefully lick the salty tears that overflow from my eyes and, Luna especially, keep a wary brown eye until they are confident that I’m okay. Even my dear husband gets me moving again. I can’t bear his attempts to jump-start my motivation with suggestions of taking the dogs for a swim or going for a drive. My morose refusals start to gnaw at my conscience, “He’s worried and wants his wife back.”
Thank heavens for the support system, the unconditional love and concern.
So, once again, I look up from the bottom of the well and a shaft of light beckons. Step by step, one hand over the other, I begin climbing the wall of the cold, damp well. My nails may break, my fingers may bloody and I may get knocked down again. But one day, I’ll climb out, seal the well, and life can again be full joy and purpose.