Look, I didn’t win. Not wholly. I fought and I lost battles. I fought and won some too. I might yet win the war. That doesn’t mean I regret the fight. I just regret losing the battles I lost. There is no point second guessing myself. I simply did the best I could at the time. At various points I made considered choices which might have been better in the end – who knows. All roads might lead to roughly the same situation I am in now, or perhaps worse.
The fact the Boy is with me and safe, the fact we are fed and sheltered, the fact that we are away from Pig, the fact that he is doing so well at school, the fact that there is a path to being a citizen, and that I am starting to see a small measure of success in my life are all battles won, and battles which were very hard fought. I will say right now, without Ruth, my darling friend, we wouldn’t have won a fraction of them. We simply couldn’t without a bit of help. She saved our lives, and I don’t know how I will ever be able to thank her. If I am wrong, and there is a G-d who cares about such things as kindness, helping our fellow human beings, compassion, sisterhood, then Ruth is going to be in his very very good books. If not, I hope my heartfelt gratitude is close to being enough. Thank you is too small a word.
I still lost more than I can bear some days. I have had a few tough ones. The tears are too close to the surface. My son looked at me a couple of days ago, and started to cry. He didn’t need to say anything. I knew. I told him I am sad too, but we are here and we are very much moving into the future and I am taking care of my health as best I can, that I intend to be there for him.
I’m firmly in middle age. There will be no more children, no chance of more babies. There is no chance of romantic love or being loved back. I always wanted that – to be loved and to love back. That was not for me. It was not given to me. I have had to accept that romantic love is not something I will ever have. There will be no grand love affair. There will be no wedding. No partner to hold my hand through life. Sometimes I wonder if I am cursed. Sometimes I wonder if my mother hated me that much. I suspect the reality was that she was simply too sad, too scared, and she bled out whatever strength she had into me, and there was nothing left for her at all.
I lost the possibility of satisfaction. Happiness. I wanted a house with a garden I could grow string beans in. A partner that would sit staring at me with love in their eyes while I drank my morning tea with the radio on low. I used to say silly childish prayers for G-d to make me into a poet, a writer. I didn’t want to be beautiful. I didn’t care to be clever. I didn’t even want success or money. I wanted words. I wanted to be able to write. I wanted to chase the light down the alleyways and city streets, the wilderness trails and the heat soaked deserts and report back to those who are not driven to chase dragons.
I won’t die where I was born, but that is ok with me, I got used to exile. I have always been a wanderer. It always makes me smile to listen to music about being a wanderer, a traveler, a will ‘o the whisp, when the singer clearly is nothing of the sort. It is not something to want to be. Unanchored is not a fun trip. It is cold and lonely, dangerous and tiring. People need roots to put down, even I do. I have just been compelled to move and keep moving. To be frank, staying where I was born wouldn’t have suited me at all. I am not that quiet a soul. I had a hunger to move around, an insatiable appetite for the road. I still feel like I have simply washed up somewhere, adrift on a beach, battered and smoothed by waves, and am waiting for the sea to carry me away again.
This is not a totally satisfactory ending. I suppose because it is real instead of an ending you would write for such a life if you had control over Fate. I am fighting to write the next chapter with some flair and success, instead of some kind of hokey tragedy. I need Hemingway to take over the pen from Marlowe and give me a heroine’s ending with a kernel of happiness and brilliance, instead of destruction and the dullness of failure. At this point, I have adjusted my acceptable conclusions down to the non negotiable – for my remaining child to be safe and successful. That is the basic line I am drawing in the sand. Anything else is going to have to be gravy, but I am trying. I am really fighting.
I have accepted partial defeat – I accepted I won’t get be able to get a divorce without risking myself further, I’ve accepted I won’t ever have a relationship, or more children. I’ve accepted the way things went in the past, and I am strong arming the future into some kind of acceptable shape. I’ve put the brakes on the downwards slide, and haven’t stopped fighting yet. To accept these losses and try to move forward carrying them with me is way beyond something anyone should ask of themselves. If it was anybody else, I would counsel being kind to themselves, but since it is me, I will continue to kick my own ass into the future, and have to hope the world doesn’t go to total wreck and ruin around us.
If anyone reading this is fighting their own battles, hold the line, my friends, press forwards, it is the only way through this. There has to be a future beyond this wall of suffering and sadness. Never surrender. Don’t give into weakness. If the only thing that gets you through is curiosity over the future, it is enough, it has to be. There is nothing else.
You are a writer. Words as good as any poetic rhyme or metrical line, flow like a river from your soul. Your keyboard claps like thunder, with winds that swirl about, a tornado of emotions real and strong. You are a writer. Your words bring truth, bring an explanation and definition to pain and healing. To strength, stronger than any steal. Oh yes, you ARE a writer.
All my love. I don’t know what to say for once. From another writer I admire so greatly, that is so generous and touching. Thank you xx
I would not have said it, if I didn’t believe it to be true. You are very welcome.
I know that much about you, friend xx HUG xx It is such an honor to know you
I hope you are surprised by many happy things in your future!
That is very kind of you, darling. I am really hoping you get a very successful surgery as soon as possible! I have to admit I am wincing at the thought of anyone doing a shake crash diet…Ive been worrying about you!
No need to worry… it’s fine after the 1st week. It was required for both of my gastric surgeries, to prove I could do it. Unfortunately, the were both fails in the long run.
I saw that a new satiety med is in clinical trial with great success. I wish it was avail now. The only time I experienced a “normal” satiety reaction was when I was on Pondimin. Prescriotion speed is still readily avail from docs (hell, I have a bottle of ritalin in my nightstand) but I can’t stand how it makes me feel!!
That must be so tough, just not feeling full! I have the opposite problem, because of my stomach damage from the celiac disease, I struggle to eat full meals. Does the speed help? I could never eat when speeding, it made me absolutely not want food at all, but I know other people who it just doesn’t get that way…plus, yeah…there is the speediness! The new med sounds promising. Do you find filling up on protein helps at all, over simple carbs? Full fat yoghurt that kind of thing? I am so sorry the weight loss surgeries didn’t help you, you have tried so very hard. Here’s to the future, sweetie! I hope you get to go to the dub club night!
Nope, nope, nope, nope. Some things have worked for a couple days. Gastric sleeve (2/3 of my stomach thrown away)worked longer but 5yrs is the typical regain period and it seemed like it happened overnight!
I simply don’t experience full. I have “I could eat” and “I’m gonna barf”… not much between.
I can’t do more than a tiny bit of the speed for 2 days max before the physical tension, tweaker cheek chewing, and EXTREME irritability kick in.
I know my GI issues are related but which is cause and which is effect are undetermined. There was a time when everything caused the bottom of my stomach to hyper spasm and push out everything. After not eating for more than a week, and then stopping even liquids for several days, I drove myself to an ER for IV fluids and meds. They didn’t figure out what was wrong. That IV fluid was like diving into a cool pool… I’ll never forget it!!
I have a good 100lbs of fat to feed off (literally) so don’t worry about me!!
I am so sad for you that you have suffered so much with this. It just doesn’t seem fair. Sending you strength, hugs and respect. It sounds really really tough and very painful.
Thanks. We all have different pains and battle wounds .