A Day in the Life of a...

I cried buckets last night. As usual, the exhaustion brought about by my kind of "daily grind" was just too much. And I had terrible pains all over -my left leg, my back, my hips, my shoulders, neck, head, and my heart. Didn't i just wrote that pain is good? Hah! that was just perhaps one of my pathetic attempts at self-nursing. This time, i was all 3 parts (body, soul, spirit) disabled. I needed someone to call "emergency" for me.

Tarek was putting the boys to sleep and I have just finished scrubbing the entire bathroom like a madwoman, until i almost choke on the smell of the chlorine. It was 12 midnight, and i was still in the kitchen, not (yet) eating dinner, but cleaning the oven, the cupboard,the dish rack, the sink, and the floor. I couldn't stop, despite the fact that my entire body is already screaming in pain and sweating like rain. I clean like its a matter of life and death, like trying to exorcise demons i have buried alive inside me. They stay buried, but they also stay alive. And i needed to get rid of them for I was being devoured by that which possessed me.

After i have finished my almost-paganistic-ritual (worship of "clean"?) sans the sound of music or beating drums (except for the rhythm of my pant and my heartbeat pounding in my head) i threw myself on the bed and cried some more, unto God this time. I couldn't remember any single thing that i should be thankful for. Haven't i just been all 3-parts-disabled? I just cried for help. All that i could muster was to weep, sniffle, sob, and cry agen, vise versa. "God, i am very tired. and i want to go home (to the Phil.) and this is all too much for me...please help me God.Pleeeeez! ....huhuhuhu!"Then I took a shower, changed, turned on the washing machine, made a cup of mint tea which i didn't drink because i couldn't find the strainer,fed Leaf, then i fell asleep. Dinner-less but anaesthesized. Talk about "deliverance." Tarek hanged the clean laundry which i forgot to wait for.

It was that simple, the prayer. And i wished it didn't have to be that dramatic. And comic. But it was. Because of the pain (yes, here i go again with "pain" which i have so low a tolerance for, or do i? And isn't the first letter the same as my name's? Pinky. And also as praise, and pathetic, and pretty,and prude, poor,perfect,poignat,pure,prisoner...tell me to stop...right now.)
I remember my tita/friend/mentor, Helen O., in her TV show on CBChannel in CDO, saying that "Pain is a sign that we need to put something in order." It was quoted from one of her teaching materials. It is very true, and i live by the principle of order (OC, hellow?) but perhaps i need this kind of clutter? The inner kind. And the clean kind. To remind me that it's ok to be un-normal sometimes, its ok to cry, andthat its even ok to publicly declare your weaknesses...and even sins. I guess that's when "deliverance" begins to work. I guess....but then at least i am ok now. And needing to know if this is normal.