On the Edge

I have been running through this wooded area for years. Ten years to be precise. It’s dark and frightening and the pain I feel is relentless. Yet I run. There is no one in front of me, no one behind me, no one beside me. No one. So I continue to run alone.

Occasionally there are pinpricks of light glowing through tree branches. I listen to the trees because they are have knowledge that I do not possess. I approach each of these trees slowly; maybe they are my way out. Perhaps they have answers. They never are, they are only detours meant to tease me into believing there is an answer. 68C562E7-018B-4CE7-8AD2-B9DCAE874CBA

Now I am standing on the edge of a great black hole, a precipice of unknown depth and possibly even further pain. I stand and look down. It is extremely dark, yet at the bottom I think I can see a pinpoint of light, but I’m not quite certain. I crouch down, my knees at the edge of the hole, crane my neck forward, place my chin at the edge, and try to adjust my eyes to the darkness enough to see as far down as possible. Yes, there is something at the bottom, but I can’t see it clearly. I stand up and brush off my pants. I get up and walk to the other side of this giant hole of questionable content. More woods. I walk to my right, then to my left. Nothing but forest. I am standing in the only clearing I have seen for ten years. If I walk around it I am faced with nothing but more walking through more darkness, perhaps for the rest of my life. But if I jump in, what then?

This hole is beckoning me. It is insistent that it holds the answer. But what lies at the bottom? A giant, dumpster-size vat of pillows? A king-size Temper-Pedic mattress? I can’t see clearly enough so I just don’t know.

So here I stand. Waiting. Wondering. Afraid not of the darkness but of the unknown. The darkness is closing in around me and I feel that my only hope lies at the bottom this great abyss.

Today I have decided to jump. I am placing my future into the hands of medical professionals in whom I have placed my trust. I imagine the fall will be frightening, but I am hoping for a comforting landing. I imagine a time when I will be surrounded by love and light and no more pain. By taking this massively scary leap, I am pursuing my only hope.

Here I go. I’ll see you on the other side.

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