Things are thick.
I have heard the above phrase twice this week. I have come close to saying it myself, too, twice. And it is only Monday!
My friend said it because he was facing possible retrenchment. My other friend said it because she could not get a job, she was late on rent, and I *refused* to loan her 2K; she just cannot believe that I actually don’t have the cash. I almost said it because my doctor decided to inform me with insane calm that I had a thyroid disorder and my antinuclear antibody count had gone up, and that I was looking at a new (operative word expensive) drug therapy program.
Then, I had a massive fall out with my brother. Not sure we can mend things this time, and although my mother asked me to try and not be bitter, I am having a really hard time with it. Which explains my migraine. It is throbbing like I’ve got some mad witchdoctor dancing some strange ritual jig in there. I haven’t been able to sleep, the little white pill just won’t work and it makes my headache worse.
I did get some sleep, about three hours worth, the night before last. That night, I dreamt that I was swimming in that old swimming pool we used to go to as kids. I got a muscle cramp and the pool turned into a raging river and swept me away. the only thing I could think of was: ‘Oh my God, I still have so much to do!’
That thought has been on my mind all day long. I still have so much I want to do. I hope I have the time to do it. But that is not my biggest fear, not time. My biggest fear is that I won’t have the strength to do all the things I need to do.
A few minutes ago, I sat down and wrote down a list of all the things I need to do. Top of my list was: Forgive.
It is just one word. One word, but it represents everything that holds me back, everything that weighs me down, everything that takes up my strength and time.
So yes, things are thick…
We attach our feelings to the moment when we were hurt, endowing it with immortality. And we let it assault us every time it comes to mind. It travels with us, sleeps with us, hovers over us while we make love, and broods over us while we die. Our hate does not even have the decency to die when those we hate die–for it is a parasite sucking OUR blood, not theirs.
© Juliet Maruru 2010 www.jmaruru.wordpress.com