The sliver of glass

The Sliver of Glass

Imagine having a sliver of glass stuck in your index finger. Let’s say it’s been there for a few days and now your finger tip is red and sensitive to every pressure and touch. The rest of your body is fine – you’re intelligent, witty, good looking and successful. You have a nice home, nice car, nice family, good job – everything is just great. But every time you touch something you are painfully reminded of that sliver of glass buried deep in your finger tip. You pay your bills, you go to work, spend time with friends and meet new people. You go out to dinner, go to the movies, shopping etc… just like everyone else, but you are reminded constantly of that sliver of glass buried in your finger.

Every action, reaching for a pen, typing on the computer, eating a meal - your finger screams out at you at least once. Every waking moment is permeated with either a dull throb or a sharp burning pain. Sometimes you can forget about it, watching a movie, reading, something… then it roars back with the subtlety of a hot iron to your forearm. You can’t ignore it, you can’t pretend it’s not there. Oh it’s there alright and it demands your full attention, even if just for a second. Your finger screams out at you silently.

Finally after numerous attempts you are successful at removing it. Its instant relief… oh there is still pain but it feels different now, you know it’s over. In a few days the experience will all be a memory and soon forgot. The pain is gone forever.

Now imagine that same sliver of glass, but this time it’s hidden, you don’t know exactly where it is. Your fingers are fine, your shoulders or neck don’t hurt. Your knee and back are fine. But now the shard of glass is somewhere else. It feels like your heart hurts, but not your physical heart – it’s like the sliver of glass is cutting into your soul itself.

The pain is incredible, it’s demoralizing, it aches and throbs and it’s with you constantly.
You can still function, pay your bills, go to work, talk to friends...etc. Every action is awash with this pain, the entire world, your entire life, even your very existence is defined by this pain. Imagine looking through a camera lens covered by cheese cloth or a filter of some type. Nothing is crisp, food doesn’t taste exquisite, colors aren’t vibrant, laughter is forced, and happiness is non-existent.

The pain is always present, it’s never gone. Some days or weeks are worse than others. Sometimes it’s hardly noticeable, like the dim light from a bulb of a dying flashlight, but the pain never goes out. But then it creeps back. Sometimes you can feel it building – like a storm on the horizon. You can feel the air changing around you as the storm closes. It’s a sickening feeling. You know what is coming. It feels like being slowly enveloped in a heavy black cloak covered in warm tar. It sticks and conforms to every part of you, it's almost familiar and welcoming because that is all you know – then it constricts and chokes out all reasoning. It’s back and the pain is brilliant and all encompassing.

Other times the pain hits you like a blast from an air horn. Something just went wrong, you didn’t get promoted, you lost the sale, the love of your life just left you – something just happened. You feel the sliver starting to cut, slashing your soul to ribbons. The pain is dizzying, the shard demands all your attention. Your insides turn to liquid, like melting wax – it’s too much. You can’t talk to anyone, or hold a conversation for fear of breaking down. Your mind reels with the pain, your insides turn to fists. Who would possibly even comprehend this pain you feel? Your heart blackens and turns to stone. You turn a stoic, hard face to the world. The glass has just begun its work.

The nights are the worst. I do not possess the ability to begin to accurately describe the horrors of the nights. You may already know.

That shard of glass… no tweezers in the world can rid me of it. You can try to take pills for it, but that just deadens the pain – like the dim flashlight… but the pain is always there. It is the same thing as putting Novocain on your finger tip. It doesn’t hurt so much but the glass remains and whatever pleasure your finger tip once brought you – like the feeling of crushed velvet or running your finger tips through sand or the hair of a beautiful woman would be all lost, masked by the drugs.

What to do, what to do.