This post was inspired in part by the lovely Angela’s poem here.

I didn’t want to get out of bed that morning. The night had been long, but yet somehow not long enough . . . all at the same time. My bed was warm and cozy, my eyelids were heavy, and my body was held down by seeming impossible gravity.

It was six a.m. and I wanted to sleep for just a few more hours. Not yet. Not quite yet. Please?

The problem was, we were supposed to go for a therapy horse ride, and I had twenty minutes to get ready: the bare minimum of getting dressed and taking supplements. There wasn’t time for breakfast, that would need to wait until later.

So I dragged myself out of bed, fumbled through my clothes and supplements, and found myself at the horse ranch down the road, strolling through the cool morning air leading the horse I ride, Irish. I love horses.

About that point, I decided that it was worth getting out of bed. And then by the end of the ride, the sun is full blaze here in the Arizona desert, and I know it really was worth getting up even though at the time, I didn’t feel ready. I thought I needed to wait a little longer and get a little more rest. If I’d waited until later, it would be so much worse in the heat.

Healing is sort of similar. At least, for me. At the moment, I find myself at the exit of the tunnel. The tunnel, the dark, has been long, and hard. But when I find myself blinking, blinded by the sunlight, I want to linger in the exit a little longer. I want to take a little bit to just breathe and adjust. I want to rest for just a little longer.

Sunset chaser (8)

But God, my doctor, and my family aren’t letting that happen. They know I need to keep moving. And I don’t always understand. I want to heal, yes, and I want to move yes, but I also want to just get my bearings for a moment or two. They are letting me get dressed and take the supplements, but I want time for breakfast as well.

However, like it is with the horse ride, it’s better to wait and have breakfast after. There’s a time for everything, and perhaps the time to adjust fully is later. Yes, there is some adjustment now, but at the same time, to get past the tunnel before another train comes through, I have to move now and adjust to the sunlight later.

If I wait longer, it will actually be harder to come out into the sunlight. Right now, I can come out into the cool of the morning. But if I wait, I’ll have to work much harder to exit the dark tunnel of sickness in the scorching heat of the day.

Note: One week from today I’ll be launching my new website with a bunch of guest posts and a giveaway! You don’t want to miss it. (Also, if you want to be part of the launch team, don’t forget to sign up here!)

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2 thoughts on “When You’re Not Ready For the Light After Darkness

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