I feel like I’m screaming into pitch darkness. I can’t see, can’t find my way. It’s just blackness. I’m stuck in this one place, the earth beneath my feet well-trodden, well-worn. This grief, this longing, this yearning to have control over my body, for it to work as it should…. To not be so far away from breathing in the joy of creating, swollen with new life again… To not have to keep seeing everyone else receive it while my body, my family, my heart breaks and mourns, struggles and wonders. To not see the years slipping by…

It makes me feel like I’m screaming into the darkness… raging, defiant, vulnerable, scattered, pain-crazy. But I’m not scared. This black night is dense, wrapped close, but I can breathe. I can breathe here far better than I can breathe most of the time.

I know this darkness well but I must admit I am tired of the light not breaking in. I’m tired of His light not breaking in. And so really I’m screaming to be found, to be rescued…

SOS.

SOS.

The flares should be launched but I fear I’m too consumed by the sounds that need to release to really think about sending up the flames. Can you hear me? Can you feel me? Do you really know me? I can’t work out which way to run, which way to move, so I stay on this little well-worn spot, trying to work out how to eject all these emotions out of my insides. They just seem to keep on coming.

Come find me, God. Come find me.

Every day I hide it. Every day I carry on the carefully-crafted life to manage. Count the blessings. Inhale the good things. Tackle the tangled emotions with an endorphin hit. Choose to see the positives. Pray. Nod along with all I’m grateful to have. Try to love my broken body. Share snippets of truth in soundbites, but mostly I’m fine, I’m fine…. Everything is fine.

Except on the inside I’m howling into the bleakness.

This ache of incompleteness has no end.

SOS. SOS. Come find me, God. Come find me.