I have substitute plans to make for my class while I am away. And I need to clean my house and shop for groceries. Thanksgiving is coming, and though my family will be helping, I can't shake the ingrained notion that our Thanksgiving meal is primarily my responsibility -- surgery or not. I'm tired. The pain in my chest is physical, but it is affecting me emotionally, as well. I would like to rest. But with rest comes too much time to think and dwell on what is to come. That is not always a good thing.
I am a fervid ball of stress and anxiety.
I have to admit that I am dreading this cochlear implant that my doctor says will improve my quality of hearing life. I really am. My intellect tells me it is a good thing. But my heart betrays me with a disparate sentiment.
I've been praying for something else. Not that I believe I have been forsaken by God. The cochlear implant is a technological miracle for those like me. It's just not the miracle I wanted. It's not what I desire deep within myself. I was raised to believe that God would give us the desires of our hearts. And this isn't it. It's a compromise -- a contradiction of faith. And somehow it feels like a contradiction of who I thought I was.
I know what I want. I want to hear. But who I am seems to be lost in the flurry of emotions I bear.
Wednesday can't come soon enough.