There's a florescent light directly over my desk here in the CN office that has never worked. At least not as long as I've been sitting at this desk. I have a window and the million other florescent lights in the building, so I never really noticed its absence.
Until about 3 in the afternoon on Thursday of this week, when it suddenly flickered on and I lost my vision for a little while. It was kind of like that moment when someone is taking your picture and the flash on their camera is WAY brighter than you expected it to be, and you just have to stumble around for a few minutes waving your arms in front of you while the spots subside. Except it wasn't just one flash in front of me, it was like the whole world got immediately brighter.
I'm sure that did wonders for my slowly healing concussion.
Speaking of which, I'm nearing the end of my two week "don't lift anything at all and try not to focus" probationary period, in which time my brain was supposed to have started getting better. And I think it is. At least I'm only reduced to taking Exedrin and lying down once a day now, when it used to be three or four times. So progress. My vision is starting to return to normal, which is a big relief, because it is a huge pain for everything between 6 inches and 4 feet from your face to be blurry.
Also this week, at least three or four times that I can remember, some of you have approached me with sincere and very kind inquiries about my well-being; and words of encouragement. So I'll say again what I say all the time ... you have no idea what that means to me. And also I've talked to a lot of you who say that you feel I'm writing directly to you, and that we're communicating.
And we are.
So for this reason, for me at least, sharing is valuable. And I'm aware that some think I share WAY too much in this public forum. But on a regular basis, I hear from people who have been able to connect, to have their own feelings validated, or been able to seek out information and help that they needed, because of something difficult that I found a way to say. So what I do is just what I do, and I guess there isn't much of a need for explanation.
I just wanted to say thank you, again. Thank you to the women who've shared with me your own stories, and the ones who've said that mine gave them courage. Thank you to the men who've patted me on the shoulder and told me things will look up soon. Thank you to every person who's stopped me in the grocery store or at the gas station and said they were praying for me, or just that they liked to laugh at my adventures. I remember every single encounter and keep them refreshed in my mind for when I need a boost.
The only method of reciprocation I have is to keep telling you funny little stories, and keep telling you the truth.
Often our way of life invalidates the importance of being heard and understood. So to every person who wants to share their own story with me in exchange for mine, in person or through email or Facebook or whatever ... I promise to hear you, see you and do my best to understand. Because I feel pretty strongly that sometimes all we need to make us feel better is someone to take in our experiences and say, "me too," or "you're doing a good job, keep it up." That's important, no matter what the experiences are or the stories are about.
I haven't recently had any good or even coherent answers to the question "how are you," so I'll sum it up this way. In the past few days I have Googled everything from "dating after divorce" to "how to become a nun." Those are both things that I have actually considered. And many more in between.
Here's to embracing the confusion ...
sspears@blythevillecourier.com