Of determination, dreams and despair
Last week I found myself praying, for the first time in my life. This was a very surprising experience, to say the least, as I've never been a "religious" person; "spiritual" would be more accurate. This need to pray appeared to be propelled by a deep and irresistible compulsion, coming from a depth of my soul that I find difficult to access normally. It's an experience that is strange to admit to. I've done rather well taking things in my stride, approaching the obstacles in my path, making adaptations, staying focussed and positive, maintaining sanity in the face of the mammoth changes and limitations that have been forced on me by chronic illness. Yes, I've let myself have my down days, my angry days, my lonely days. But on that particular evening, I very suddenly and very viscerally felt this absolutely negating sense of despair that I could do nothing about. Apart from pray to the Cosmos, the Universe that connects us all. It is glaringly...