Slice of Life 25:
shad′ow box` n.
a rectangular frame fronted with a glass panel, used to show and protect items on display.
to go through the motions of boxing, without an opponent
“So I run with a purpose in every step. I am not just shadow boxing.”
– 1 Corinthians 9:26.
It was her birthday Saturday. All I wished for her was to be happy. Never before has a, “Happy Birthday,” carried so much sincerity and hope.
Although we know the dark waves to rise and fall, as of late, she cannot seem to come ashore. No words of “reason,” assist in her rescue. Those that live with such a person, know. Those that do not, label “crazy,” or perhaps just ignore or dismiss. Those that, “know,” understand the cyclical conversations, rolling over the same topic, concern, problems, over and over and over. They know the magnitude of the paranoia, what it is like to look into someone’s eyes, someone so frightened, so afraid, fighting for their sanity, for their life. They know the impulsive spectrum of emotions and its tendency to fluctuate in the blink of an eye. They experience what it is like… to talk to someone you love, unsure if any of the words you are saying are actually finding their way through, or if the words are lost, repelled off the barricade of the sickness.
Such a sickness is not unlike any other physical disease, such as a Cancer. This disease is debilitating, fogging the ability to reason, to trust, to live. Hers is a disease which may not be terminal by way of numbered days, but each day, in a sense, is taken away from her. Imprisoning her time. She is tangled. Her eyes bulge now, as she desperately tries to explain the, “situation,” make sense of the pain, understand her own destruction. Such a sickness places you in a Plexiglas encased shadowbox. Watching the carnival world circle around you, unable to hear the voices that love you, calling to you.
Where are you, friend?
I just wish to see the glimpse of, “you,” again. Instead, I know that every day you wake; having the obstacle of burrowing yourself out of the darkness, through the veils of confusion, lifting curtains of conspiracy, some days never to see the light. I can see the clouds come in. I can see you retract into the forest.
It makes us angry at times, unsure whom to blame. Is it nature? Part nurture…her life experiences, having to endure the unnecessary suffering that was placed upon her? It is a choice? Does she have the power to break free of the chains that bind her?
All I know how to do is listen. I will listen to you and continue to listen to you. Support you and love you. And hope. Hope that you find the way to celebrate your life. And live it.
Where are you , friend?