Another week has ended and it is Toxic Tuesday again. I’m having a tough time. A work situation unexpectedly blew up. I thought I’d straightened it out, but I was wrong. Promises were broken. Trust was shattered. Now I feel lost and betrayed. I’m not going to get into the specifics, because they don’t really matter. What matters is how stress fills my normally joyful life with sh*t.
To tell you the truth, sometimes I look forward to Toxic Tuesday. Along side the chemo pills I take enough Ativan to wipe out my memories. I spend Toxic Tuesday in a mental haze. When I hurt inside, comfortably numb seems like a good trade. Chemically induced oblivion feels good for a while. It shaves the edges off. Puts me on an even keel. There is no frustration. No pain. No sorrow. But, no joy either.
“... joy and sorrow are inseparable. . . together they come and when one sits alone with you . . . remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.” Kahlil Gibran
Today I am dealing with Toxic Tuesday so I can rest. Rest is a verb, an active thing. Rest is where we pause for sorrow and grief because joy is sleeping on our beds.
Joy will find me when I wake up Wednesday morning. I’ll take the dogs outside and breathe in the cold winter air. Because of the chemo, I’ll be able to move my respiratory muscles. I’ll be able to breathe in and out. Even when my life hurts and tears fall, because of Tuesdays I can breathe. Breathing is reason enough for joy.