Forced to be real

Life is ironic and strange and humbling. Yesterday morning I had a deep discussion with my Dad and it wasn’t all that great, in fact I was extremely upset, and I went down into my room and closed the door and lay on my bed and was pretty unhappy. I heard him leave for work and I heard my mom leave and I was thinking how I didn’t want to talk to either of them, I was pretty upset and I didn’t want to be vulnerable and let them know how upset I was. I was thinking how I could possibly avoid them for the next week or so. Sometimes having someone close by who will bring up issues you don’t want to talk about is a pain. Not to mention painful.
I decided to go for a walk with my ipod, for several hours. I have a set of lectures on mp3 files and I love walking anyway so I put them in and was listening to them while I walked.
What is the nerve that is affected in winged scapula? The woman’s voice asks. There is a pause, not quite long enough for me to come up with an answer, and then the man answers, the long thoracic nerve. And on and on.
I walked for an hour. Listened to the lecture, talked to God, looked at the orange leaves falling off of trees and tried to settle my soul. Maybe I would walk all day and come home just before dinner but then leave with my sister without talking to them. Maybe I would stay out late and stay out the next day and then the next day I was working and maybe by then I would be calmer.
I was an hours walk away from home and I heard this loud noise and coming down the road towards me was a massive front-end loader with a huge scoop in the front. I had my headphones in and was in the zone but it was pretty noisy.
My parents were driving the front-end loader. I couldn’t believe it. There was no avoiding them.
“Hi, Heather!” They pulled over. “Where are you going? Do you want a ride?”
No, I don’t want a ride. In fact, I was wondering what kind of parents show up in the middle of nowhere driving a front-end loader just when their daughter really doesn’t want to talk?
“Hop in the shovel!” My Dad said.
I felt like laughing or crying, I’m not sure which. Maybe just punching something. I got in the shovel and my mom got in too and my Dad lifted us way up and started driving.
“So…. How are you doing?” My mom asked.
I am fine, I thought. Just fine. I was trying to avoid talking to you because I didn’t want to face my emotions and here I am stuck in a giant shovel with you driving down the road.
Later that night I went with my sister to a young people’s group but I was feeling sick, maybe I had a migraine, and when I got to our destination, went into the bathroom to throw up and then sat on the couch trying to massage my headache away. We had a good bible study and then afterwards everyone wanted to go make a fire on the beach but all I wanted to do was crawl into bed.
I lay in the car and tried to sleep and not think about throwing up and not think about how crazy my life is and not think about how upset I am about things and all the things that aren’t working out.
Our friend Leonard dropped me off at his house, which was near the beach, and showed me a ratty looking futon in the basement I could sleep on. He gave me some ibuprofen and water and turned out the lights and I lay on the dirty futon in the dark, so cold that I was curled up in a ball with my hands inside my toque to keep them from hurting. I was right next to the water boiler and all the pipes, and every time someone in the building flushed a toilet or something, it sounded like a waterfall next to me. I lay there drifting in and out of sleep and thinking about things.
What is the name of the liver fluke that has it’s intermediate host in a water snail?..... Clonorchis sinensis.
Why is it so hard to be vulnerable?.... Why is everything in my life not working out?.... there is a long pause, and there is no answer. Go to sleep, Heather.
I woke up this morning and the sun was shining in the window and I read in the bible, Cast all your anxiety on him, for he cares for you.
I bounced out of bed (grrr I hate that I’m such a morning person!) and went upstairs and there was my family and I didn’t really care anymore about not talking to them, my Dad had a sore knee and I took a look at it, and made waffles and did Hannah’s hair and drank coffee. Everything is going to be okay.