Painful Pick-up

My bedroom floor was a disaster. It had been that way for months and was only growing worse. My husband has been growing in his relationship with both me and God, he is a neat freak and didn't blast me once. He patiently waited for me.

A few weekend ago, I asked him for help to pick up. I am sure he thought why does a fifty year old grownup need help, but I really did.

So weekends went by, and I did nothing about what was growing on the floor. I needed help to do something about it.

My floor wasn't dirty. There is a difference. It just was junky, piled upon piles: newspaper, books, empty shopping bags, some with items still inside, purses, totes, magazines, journals, discarded mail, important papers, and not so important papers and a LOT of curriculum! (We homeschool.)

Finally, I convinced my husband to "hold my hand" and be with me as I worked through the stuff. Like a child I asked, "Where do I start? What do I do?" So he led me, and I followed his advice. At first I moved quickly and in about 20 minutes I slowed to an almost frozen stop. This is a little bit of how it went:

Numbness in my fingertips and at the very end of my spinal column crept in first. I pushed through it but then the pain started. I verbally moaned but kept pushing. I wanted to conquer this mess. I was pained. One time I had a piercing pain in my stomach - almost in my navel, like I had been stabbed. Most of the time, my arms felt so heavy. And oddly my lower, lower back - almost my butt - ached in soreness.

This was not make-believe pain. I really hurt. I moaned, and even noticed the pitch of my voice changed, like childlike voices.

Thankfully after 28 years of marriage my husband KNOWS me. He knew this was not fun for me. He knew I was not pretending to get out of having to clean up. He knew I was really suffering... emotionally, physically, mentally, and spiritually.

I crumbled on the floor in the midst of all the stuff and laid my head down and saw this:

I am sitting on the floor of my house I grew up in and books & stuff are being dropped on me, like the back of a dump truck unloading on top of me. I am being buried. I need help.

I shared this with me husband and asked for some water. I was so parched in my mouth. He listened, did not comment but really listened, and this helped me to be heard.

After a few sips, I weakly continued to work through the piles with my husband guiding me. He kept carrying the books into the hallway... probably about 50.

And I cried out, "I can't do no more. I hurt too much. I need help."

So I took a break, breathing in deeply, as I fell across the bed. I asked him to "acupuncture" my back with his finger - you gotta love a man that puts up with the needs of a person who has suffered child abuse and torture. My real needs are so different from what is normally needed by people. Finally, I am in tune with myself. I usually know what I need. I don't question "it" anymore. I just state my need. He pushed the pressure points. I took deep breaths. Finally, I was able to get up again and work.

We packed up a few boxes to take to the garage. I was seeing the floor. I could sense completion - at least for a day. I rested my head down again. I saw this:

I had fallen down the 'rabbit hole' and had piles of stuff on top of me. I pushed up through it all and sat up in the middle of the mess continuing to push stuff away. 

I told my husband and he confirmed that he was carrying some of it away. We made progress.

Exhausted I crawled into bed. It was all I could do - a nap was needed. And while I rested my dear husband vacuumed the floor.

This morning, I awoke to a much cleaner room. It felt very good - invigorating. I thank my husband over and over. We opened the window and I listened to the birds sing. I love hearing the birds sing in the morning.