Alone, Cold, Empty

Written in writing group, Monday, March 18

Well.  What’s going on?  I’ve been scared a lot this morning.  Mostly I’m worried about not being able to deal with complex arrangements around my surgery.  Not having to do with the surgery itself, but with the arrangements I have to make for Mocha.  I’ll need to find a place for her to stay during the day of my operation.  I wonder about asking Susan P.  There’s also the question of how to tell people how much food to give her.  Maybe I could do a breakfast that could be set out at the right time.

O gosh I wish I weren’t so tired.  Last night I got the best sleep I’ve had since this whole thing began.

Solving the practical problem of Mocha so I can stay in the health center overnight after the operation.  Which I think is a good idea.  Not to be alone.  Have help right there if I need it.

Not to be alone.  Have help right there if I need it.  Have I ever had that?  So much of my life I have been alone.  Had to take care of myself because there was no one else.  That was even how I felt as a child.  Mom & Dad weren’t very good at help and support, at encouraging and explaining.  I don’t know why.  Maybe they didn’t get encouragement or support or explanations from their parents.  I always believed I wasn’t worth taking time and trouble for.  It still astounds me when someone offers to help, letting me know I’m important to them.

I look out the window.  There’s a little blue sky between the clouds.  Lots of branches and twigs of leafless trees.  Brown, dead, grass barely starting to turn green.  Will spring ever come?  Or will it be endless, empty, winter.  Endless cold in my heart.  Alone, cold, empty.

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