This too shall pass

It’s the twenty-fifth day of March and my life is still stuck on crappy. Got home from a temp job (Praise Jesus) and hopped right into bed and went to sleep. Was I tired? Yes. The reality that I had no money to buy food or do anything else but I was “working” left me exhausted.


That is a heavy and draining realization. I woke up with it. I managed to get it unto the bus and took it to lunch with me. I spent about $4.00 today: $1.99 for breakfast, a banana and granola bar at the gas station; and $2.20 for lunch, Dollar Menu Chicken Sandwich at McDonalds and a yogurt parfait which was also a dollar. I ate; I read; I was at peace.

Since I don’t have my car I have stopped going to my weekly meditation meeting. This has highlighted that I also get more than meditation from that meeting. I get food. It’s my food pantry. Without it, I’m hungry.

To keep functioning, I am trying to embrace gratitude. At various times, not just in the morning or when I am going to bed, I will try to think of a few things for which I am grateful. My health, this temp job, my weekly pay check, birdsong, butterflies, bees, the priceless sacrifice of the men and women of the military, beautiful days and clear skies of LA, somehow I’m still here and struggling; the feeling that I am moving forward, friends, Prozac, the Lilly Corp Prescription Assistance Program, the possibility of the future, that now is only temporary…. Get the picture.

No grand plans, no big promises to myself, just the prayer that things will change; that is what keeps me going. I just have to make it until then. Again, it is worthwhile to note that this is exactly how I felt as a child growing up in my home and family. “Just hold on Ann” this won’t last forever is how I got myself through lonely summer months left at home. No brighter picture of the future than I would be alone and alive got me through days of not speaking to anyone (including my parents). So there is an odd serenity to my days.

I used to obsess over thoughts of home. Where was my home? Who was my family? Was it Jamaica, with my parents, our townhouse, school? Today I know it is a feeling.  It’s a feeling that springs from a place of dis-ease, want, and insecurity. I am walking on cracking ice. I am at home when my parents can not help me and have told me so. They haven’t abandoned me; it is just I should be rescuing them. My friends do not know what I am going through. I tell no one. I don’t ask for help. I also know that there is no external sign of trouble. I look happy; I eat; I make jokes; I make plans; I don’t complain. Everything is fine until it all collapses. And it won't.  This bridge is made of rope but it is still a bridge.