After a while, I pass many racers my age. They want to walk instead of run, hold hands and enjoy the scenery.
Time passes until only a few of us are left sprinting ahead. We're all different ages, moving into the shady areas where a stream trickles softly to the right.
This is it. The moment that makes life worth it.
Most people stop running then, tired and wanting to enjoy life. But I can't understand it; they're missing the wind in their faces, the adrenaline of going faster and higher.
I ask them to keep running, but they wave me on.
And like an idiot, I go. Who cares that my legs feel like jelly, and my hips ache. I want to make people proud. And then while standing at the top of the stupid mountain, I can be closer to God--because I made it, and He'll know how hard I tried . . . for Him.
So I keep going, awfully happy at this point, thinking I'm living to the fullest.
But then the wheezing begins. The world spins out of control and nausea overtakes me. I can't run. I can't even stand up without blacking out. And I'll never make it to the top, near God and my plan for myself.
My knees buckle, until I'm lying in the dirt.
Other racers move past--
--like I never even existed in the first place.
And the whole time, instead of thinking about the damn race, and how I can't run anymore, I'm worrying about my friends, my family and my God. Won't they be disappointed, to see how badly I failed?
Who cares that my other dreams never came true. Because my real dream was merely to gain their approval.
Multitudes of people pass, and I'm left crying on the trodden trail. That's when Cade finds me. "You don't care about me anymore," he yells, shaking me while I'm already down.
"Yes, I do."
"You never want to spend time with me. You're always so tired."
"I love you. I swear. I'm just never good enough, that's all. Never. I want to try harder for you, the kids, my business, but . . ."
"But what?" he asks.
"I don't know." I pause. "I love you, Cade. I'm just tired."
"Elisa, you can't be everything to everyone." Then that strong man, who just yelled before, picks me up in his arms, and selflessly carries me up the trail.
"It's so beautiful," I whisper, hugging him with the last of my strength. "All the things I never really took the time to look at, they're just so beautiful."
--End of allegory--
So, I'm meeting with a dietician today, to find out what I can (and can't) eat. I'll also get a meter for this hypoglycemia thing. Hopefully I can get my blood sugar under control. Two nights this week I went to sleep at five pm and woke up at eight the next morning. I'm so thankful that Cade helped me, even if he doesn't completely understand what I'm going through.
I'm sorry to vent, but this is scary. I'm that girl running on the trail, pushing, always trying so hard. But I'm also that girl lying in the dirt, so worried things will change forever. And then everyone will forget me, my books and the memory I tried carrying on for others, that's when I'll be left behind.
Do you ever feel overwhelmed?