Epiphany

Thank you, Lord Jesus. I feel like an incredibly stifling weight has been taken off of my wary shoulders, I thought. The soapy water lapped up across my soft, white stomach and I sank even further into the luke cool water. The weather had been frightening, setting records in red hot numbers for weeks, but the last few days had been like hell on earth. I slid down even further until my ember hair and ears were submerged beneath the bath water and all sound, including my breath, were gracefully muffled.

I had an epiphany. I had never believed it myself, or hadn't really believe it anyway, but it is possible for an entirely bright lightbulb to spring to life inside a person's head. I felt freedom. I felt like I was floating on clouds, looking down as all the heaviness fell further and further into the great beyond. My life was about to change; I was about to actually start to live for myself again, to experience life as I had not in years.

This semester was almost done, with finals looming on the horizon, taunting and mocking me with their scantrons. Work would be changing. My hours were about to go down to around 25 a week, instead of the standard 40-50 that I had been putting myself through for months now. I was about to start spending time with my husband, going on romantic and quirky dates, making roadtrips a regular thing again. I was about to begin making love again on a regular basis, seeing friends, taking leisurely strolls around the lake, through the mall, whatever. I was tired of coming home every night around nine, ten, or even later, quickly shoveling some tepid food into my starving mouth, taking a quick bath, during which I would find my eyelids very heavy and quickly would get out of the tub, my heart beating a bit too fast at the thought of drowning in my own soup. I pondered at the thought of people coming to my funeral, crying, and thinking how pathetic I really was for not having the good enough sense to know not to sleep and bathe at the same time.

After the poor excuse for a bath, I would guzzle some scalding tea, numbing my poor tongue for at least a day, causing the skin on the roof of my mouth to annoyingly peel for another. I would exchange a (hopefully) meaningful few words with the love of my life before finding the menu on the Tivo and guiding the cursor to some unoriginal reality show that somehow still manages to amuse me. If I was lucky, I would watch a few moments of amusing banter before my lashes would again grow fat and start to weigh my eyelids down. Damian would periodically ask if I was awake and I, wanting so desperately to be good company and be in his good company, would push my eyebrows up to meet my hairline, making it look like I was kind of awake and still watching the program, so that he would not leave my side to attend to all the other eight million things that he, too, has to deal with on a daily basis. Eventually, I could no longer keep up the farce and would awaken some time later (anywhere between an hour to almost morning) and drag my ass to bed, no doubtedly bumping into some inanimate object, or at least, ramming one of my innocent toes on some evil corner, on the way.

By the time I would get to bed, rolling into the softness of my comforter, I would realize that I was missing a key component: my husband. So, I would drag myself out of the California King sized bed that is deliciously huge and comfortable (but THAT much harder to climb out of when one is 3/4 asleep and 1/4 coordinated). On the way out to the living room, I would undoubtedly squash the cat as he constantly like to go figureskating in between my legs, doing some fancy figure eights. Oh, his screech is always the first thing that I LOVE to hear in the fog of sleep; however, at least after that point, I'm usually more careful and manage not to stub any more painted toes.

Waiting for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, I would scrunch my eyes, trying to locate my snoozing husband. Most of the time, I find him sprawled out on the couch, softly snoozing away. Other times though, he will try to thoroughly freak me out by sleeping on a body pillow out on the balcony. This has become a new phenomenon with him since the hot weather began and as much as I wonder about my dear old hubby, I can only imagine what it must look like to someone passing by on the pathway, thinking how sad it is that the nice man's wife kicked him out of the house and so now he has to sleep on the balcony floor.

I will try to wake him up and usually it will take a few times. Many times, I think he is awake and I make my way back to bed, thinking that he is right behind, only to discover a few minutes later, as I lay alone in bed, that he is still snoring out on the balcony. Thus, the whole process of me making my way through the entire house begins again. Sometimes he pulls this trick on me more than once a night, until I eventually give up, but come to find out when I awaken in the morning that my lovely nomad has ended up in bed next to me; when, though, I do not know.

As morning rolls around, I usually wake up a few minutes before the alarm clock goes off, some sort of secondary internal buzzing in charge of my responsibility.I have a small breakfast, get dressed, and head off to work. After work, I go directly to school. After school, I come home and the whole process begins again. I feel like Bill Murray in "Groundhog Day." Something has to change; no person can possibly live like this and be happy-- I believe that it is purely impossible. And so I did some heavy duty thinkin'. I spent days pondering on how I could make my life more enjoyable, better. I prayed, I thought, I cried, I wrestled with my responsibility demons, who tried to strong arm me into ignoring my needs. They tried to push me into a corner, sneering, leering, and mocking me, telling me that I was a spoiled brat, that if I veered off of my path now, I would never amount to anything, that I would never attain my goal of going to medical school and finishing. They poked me and harassed me, they prayed on my insecurities and twisted my arm behind my back, telling me that I better do the right thing or else I was really going to regret it. They were right.

However, for me, right now, the right thing is taking a step back. Life is not supposed to be a marathon sprint; instead, life should be a relatively steady walk, mixed with periods of running for your life and periods or rest. No one person can possibly survive living life like some sort of freak of nature, who never stops for a sip of water or a break. It's not human and I am just that. And so the time has come to begin a new chapter of my life. I'm going to accomplish things, not just work and school related. I want to pursue not just the things that I HAVE to do, but the things that I WANT to do. I'm sick of my demons; it's time for them to take a hike ,while I take a walk in the park.