I think I might just lose my lunch…

I hate rollercoasters. There is nothing quite as stomach-churning as the horrendous pendulum that swings between terrified and adrenaline-charged when you ride on them. It’s too much for me—I can’t do it.

This week has been a rollercoaster ride.

It begins as a series of surreal minutes during which you take your seat in a small pod that will take you where you’ve not been before. The dull clunk of the safety rail as it slides into place. Disbelief that in a few seconds you will be travelling at high speed, mid-air, unprotected. The slow grinding of gears as the engine starts and the jolting thud of the gears connecting beneath you.

The carriage springs to life and thrusts you forward, your mind struggling to catch up with a body hurtling ahead. You click your way upwards in a slow climb, the calm before the storm. It does not last long before the terrifying plunge into grief. You catch your breath for a moment with a numbing coast through the middle-ground busyness of real life before the upward chugging anger of betrayal. A blind corner question—a thought you’ve not had before—and you’re thrown upside down and screaming through another downward spiral. You gasp and pant as the new thought finds its place in one of the carriages you drag behind you, a long chain of cars that chug up and down the hills and valleys of this incomprehensible reality. The thoughts are not strapped in but bump into one another, climbing frequently between the carriages, connecting unpleasantly with each other to interpret old thoughts in new ways. They scream and whimper—each in its own way—until you do not know which came first. They are your badly behaved passengers that will neither settle, nor obey your command.

When you think you can stand no more, the ride slows and you rattle into the station, your hair windswept and tangled. Salty rivulets in dry pathways mark your face and your voice is hoarse with screaming.  You are grateful that you are mere seconds from the end, but the carriage does not stop, it merely slows, clunks and begins to move forward for another terrifying whirl though the air.

This week has been exhausting. I fall into bed so tired I could cry, and lie awake for ages trying to compel myself to sleep, trying to kick out the thoughts that have followed me into bed. I wake in the morning to find they have crawled in beside me and wait to be picked up again. They are heavy thoughts, and tiring to carry. I try to find things for them to do so that they will leave me alone. They are like toddlers that demand constant attention, and I cannot ignore them for long. One thing alone keeps them at bay…my singing…they cover their ears and hide under the blankets. There’s not much to sing about at the moment, so I sing about someone…someone I love…someone bigger and more capable than me, and the thoughts lie down and stay quiet. Sometimes they go to sleep.

My singing is atrocious, but if it is this potent…I might just quit my day job.



1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Kathy Wight
    Sep 26, 2011 @ 22:48:22

    When going through the “dark ages” with my boys, I experienced many similar feelings…..and we are not out of the woods yet. Although it is now time for them to be released to be and do what they choose. Boy, has that been a long process for me! My heart is with you and also my thoughts and prayers. Keep singing and looking to the One who is our peace and our hope. You are an awesome person and loved by many!



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