One of my favorite places in the whole world is the bathtub. I like to lie in the bathtub and turn the shower on. I direct the spray towards my legs or feet so it doesn�t get in my nose or mouth. Then I just lay there and let the water hit me. The mist forms rivulets on my skin and I feel them dripping down my sides, my shoulders, my neck. I don�t know why the water makes me feel better, it just does.
I was actually feeling a little better, mood-wise, until Monday night. I�d had a busy weekend to distract me, Monday seemed to go well. Then that night, I was laying in bed, and I was thinking about those 4 seniors that we went shopping for on Monday. I wondered what it was like to be alone, to be old and alone, living in a nursing home, no visitors, no letters, no one to spend the holidays with. And then it hit me. I�m going to be one of those seniors. And I was just washed over in sadness. I began to cry uncontrollably. No amount of rational thought can convince me it isn�t true.
I remember as a child the fears that used to keep me up at night. I had two of them. The first one, that I would someday be on trial for a crime I didn�t commit and all the evidence would say I did it, has not come true. But the second one definitely has. With a vengeance. I can honestly say that at 10 years old, I used to lie in bed and worry about this: that someday I would be 35, unmarried and no children. And it has come true. So, since one of my worst childhood fears has come true, it�s not a giant leap to believe that my fear of growing old alone will also come true.
In that moment Monday night, it was like it was already happening. I could feel it, I understood the experience. And there was nothing I could do about it. I sat in my nursing home bed and watched as my neighbors enjoyed visits from their children, grand-children, great-grandchildren. And I sat alone.
That�s when I lost my Christmas spirit. That�s when I sunk back into the hole. And that�s the last time I�ve been out of my room for any significant amount of time.
