Thursday, 17 February 2011

For Dear Life

A small platform stands high above the trees. My feet are squashed on the square and I wobble and bend into, and against, the varying winds in my effort not to fall.
I am frightened to even breathe.

I look up and see blurred lines in the distance but I am too scared to focus on anything other than staying balanced.

Those lines are the date of my treatment in the unit and they hang somewhere a space and a half away from me. I try to look up at them, to adjust my vision. If i try to brace myself I'm scared I'll tense up too much and topple.
For the time being, I can only look directly at the scales I stand on, hardly daring to breathe in the precarious safety of the diminishing numbers.

Somewhere in my mind, I am trying to come to terms with the fact that weight gain is going to be inevitable.

Two friends gave me this stone earlier in the week.

I've been holding onto it at night, hoping that somehow, it will sink beneath the surface of my skin.

The battle seems endless and hope is something that I know I need more than any other weapon in my armory right now.


  1. Hope is the first step. Thinking about and rooting for you.

  2. praying for hope to work itself into your skin right into your that you feel it...know it....believe it....and run on it. I think when we reach for it...even presses into us knowing we want it....when I thought my life was over...and I was at my all time worse...hope filtered in and I began to fight...don't even know how that happened...but believing the same for you your corner...

  3. HI LOVE-

    Yes, keep hope alive. Yes!! I am holding you in gentle light and prayer and hope, yes, hope.
    Loving you
    peace and hope for us all

  4. I pray the hope you need will be there. I am thinking of you, holding you in my thoughts...

  5. I sleep with my blackberry; it helps me get through the nights. Your hope stone, and the friends who come with it, are going to do so much more for you. I'm afraid for you right now, but am comforted that you have this little rock. I am so glad it comforts you at night, even the slightest bit, and hopefully more and more each night. Much love.

  6. Can relate. About a year ago I got a tiny little heart of rose quartz. I was and I am still holding on to it. Always in my pocket. Never without it. It helped me through very often to think of the person who cared so much for me. By now I know that there was hope all way long, I just didnt dare seeing and believing it. But deep down in the core of my being I believed or I wouldnt have gone onto the journey of recovery. Love and hugs, Paula

  7. This is a great blog, glad I came across it.

  8. Thinking of you so much . . . . . . and still holding much belief and hope that you will survive your journey's upcoming uncertainty . . . I know it's frightening . . . . but I believe in your courage . . . . as do so many others . . . .

    My spirit arms are you dear friend, and I am praying that the higher powers will reveal to you the beautiful soul I have come to 'know' . . . . . .

    Sending you strength and much love . . . . . . . .


  9. Thank you all (again) for your words. I know I've been poor at replying but it's been hard to find energy.
    Bear with me. I'm just trying to 'get by' right now.