Illness. It’s bigger than the horses.

9-19-10                2:45am

Illness. It’s bigger than the horses. I’ve been hearing “Wild Horses.” The chorus plays over and over in my head. “Wild horses, couldn’t drag me away. Wild horses, couldn’t drag me away.” Maybe not, but illness is bigger than the horses.

Today I am sick. It’s almost 3am and I’ve been awake altogether for less than 4 hours. I really wanted to go out tonight but I couldn’t. And it made me so angry. Conscious enough to know I can’t go but sick enough to be able to do nothing about it. “For All We Know” lulled me back to sleep and woke me up.

For all we know, right? It’s why I went out with Matthew this week and it’s why I see so much music. And why I’m terrified. Because I know. I am acutely aware of how precious life is. And God keeps reminding me that it’s not in my control.

I should have known a sick day was coming. I’m kinda glad I didn’t. I had fun. I went to hear music 3 days in a row this week. Last night I was riddled with zaps and freezing cold and anxious and feel asleep on the trolley, and in the car, and while waiting for food. And today I just couldn’t wake up. Really bad headache. Extreme exhaustion. And anger at the situation.

Wild horses couldn’t drag me away from the music. But illness is bigger than the horses. This invisible force I have little control of. I feel like crying but I’m just too tired.

Headache’s coming back. I’m writing by flashlight in my dark room.


I’m grateful for Matthew and my teddy bear.



© Michelle Routhieaux 2010


9-17-10                3:09am

Sometimes I just want to disappear, like now. To just walk away and go some place new, to start over. Core belief tonight – I’m not wanted. I don’t know why. Nothing particularly bad happened. I listened to great music with a good friend, watched “House” and pet my cat.

There’s something that’s been bothering me that I can’t really talk about here. It eats me, makes me tingle inside.


I am so sad. And so scared. And so, alone. And I’m so tired of feeling this way. If I’m right and I really am sick, what’s gonna happen when I can’t go out in search of happiness anymore? If I feel this way now and I’m out every day doing things I enjoy and can’t stand to be alone or in the house, what happens when that’s gone? Huh? I’m not disturbingly ill now and I hardly see anyone.

It was something I read on FB, a trigger tonight. An answer to something I’d been wondering, a question I didn’t ask.

Just listened to this. It’s amazing. “Wild Horses” by Natasha Bedingfield. Not what I was looking for, but I’m very glad to find it. I feel like I need to go out in the wilderness for awhile, to have it out with God and be alone and try to figure this out. Talk to myself, and scream, and cry, and be quiet. With no computer. Just my journal and a phone. I’d rather be alone by myself than just lonely. And when I have sufficiently reconciled with what is happening to me, maybe I can come back to my life. Or maybe I’ll break that family tradition and just stay on the mountain. Might be easier that way.