Let the Story Flow


Hopelessly drifting, bathing in beautiful agony
I am endlessly falling lost in this wonderful misery

The dreams that used to come at night don’t anymore.  Life has reached a point where I accept that taking something to help me sleep. To keep the demons at bay, means that those wonderful fantasies of again getting my hand just slightly above the rim of a basketball hoop are gone.  Waking up during those times when the nightmares far outnumbered, covered in sweat and tremors was getting to be too much.

So onto the drugs I went.  The dreams became only those that I could conjure while staring at pictures.  Shapes of clouds as they sailed by a window, other drugs being pumped into me for other reasons.  And maybe the part that had me stalled with getting beyond the moment, people telling me to dream large now.  Later wasn’t an option.

When I have talked to people about my daughter, they don’t know how to advice me about the dreams that ended in a different hospital.  All those plans that still live inside me that want to find a way out.  I’ve seen it over and over with others who have lost their only child, confusion about the future.

Now rather than be the person who only needed to listen, offer a hug; I’ve become the person who needs to voice my thoughts or watch them wither on the vine.

Fortunately the world has become more understanding about people needing to get help.  Whispers in dark corners have become signs waved on the front lawn telling people about the fears.  The downside is that as society changes some people still need to remain silent or tell me to shut it down.

I’ve gotten rid of those people.  If my being uncomfortable watching little girls in their Sunday best bothers you, pray you never understand the mindset I was forced into.

Having left home last year for something mentally stronger, I’ve been fortunate that the family I live with gets it.  And I’m still heartbroken once or twice a year that they understand on the same level I do.  But watching Susie grow through the teenage years has been helpful, and hopeful.  Her friends have been interesting to watch.  Some have seen my name from things in the past, awards from school or her father telling stories about how I watched him when he was younger.

My dreams have shifted to the daylight.  Where they are safe in the exposure the sun brings them.  The fact that I can see a smile and feel it when the world is less than forgiving about other mistakes.

If I had to put a finger on a specific moment, I still go back to seeing ten finger and toes for the first time.  I break down and let that story guide me every time.

One thought on “Let the Story Flow

  1. Pingback: #BeReal – DAVID ELLIS | toofulltowrite (I've started so I'll finish)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s