My entire entry for today was lost. If it wasn't one o'clock in the morning I would try and recompose it. Maybe it is best left unsaid. That wound is still festering...today was not the day of healing I had anticipated, instead we choreographed a counterfeit presence around the proverbial 'elephant in the room'. If I had found grace yesterday, I lost it today.
So for now we are masons, firing up the kiln to bake the clay and fabricate the bricks...laying mortar to stone we build up walls. We protect our dignity, shelter our pride and we block out forgiveness. Each planted firmly to our right to feel wronged. The 80's girl in me screams out Pat Benatar's anthem, 'Love is a Battlefield'. Brick by brick we labor to build partitions.
One sleeps. One festers. Neither are productive.
Day Eighteen I got back on track with my diet. Even if the rest of my life was going off the rails like a crazy train. Hmmmm, another 80's song. I am distinguishing a pattern here...I am living in the wrong era.
It is crazy how eighteen days ago when I started this, I had no idea how stripped bare my life would become. So much has happened, and I was certainly tempted to lie; to hide behind the façade of a flowery life, but so many of you have shared your struggles with me, allowing me to see that my transparency has purpose. It's humbling. It's like irrigation to my wounds. So I continue to dig deep.
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