So things didn’t begin quite as wonderfully as I might have wished in this life. Fine. Not a problem. Really. I have eyes to see that there’s plenty of people who got a far worse deal than me.
Some get born into refugee camps that they’ll never leave alive. Child soldiers is a thing that happens. Sex slavery too. Some never get a square meal or clean water before their day comes far too soon. Hell, there’s all kinds of horrors and grim fates out there.
Some. My only one. My precious little one. They never get to live at all. Not one sunrise. Not even one day.
So yeah. I’ve got smarts enough to know what I’ve got going for me. I am one of the lucky ones. I breathe.
I’ve got fight in me still. I’m a scrapper. I’m a survivor. I live on bright as I might in spite of this and that.
Let’s call that a disclaimer. An acknowledgement of what’s gone right. A gratitude statement.
So I’ve been striving despite my particular ailments for all my life. But giving ground bit by bit over the last five years or so. Losing a little more day by day. But not getting beat. Nope.
I’ve been able to work less and less until I had to give up my job entirely about four months ago. I miss it sorely. I miss my friends something awful. I never gave up hope that I would get back to it soon.
I had a definite date for return come December twenty third. I wanted so bad to let that be true. To make that happen. To have that for myself.
But that aint gonna be so.
Things aint getting better. At least not as soon as I wanted or in the way I had hoped. Strive and try and fight and heal as I might, things are getting worse. I can no longer deny. But don’t take that the wrong way. I am not giving up on anything. I am far from finished in my race. Yep. You bet. You can make book on that.
Had a particularly tough couple of appointments with the professional healers. One hell of a hard one yesterday. And it is clear that I have no choice but to surrender a little more ground. I aint well. And there’s no denying or refusing that fact. I cannot return to work as soon as I would have so loved to do. As I so hoped.
That fact breaks my heart. I don’t want it to be true. But it is.
Scares the hell out of me too.
I don’t want to be dependent. I want to be the dependable one. I don’t want to be burdensome I want be the one to bear burdens. I want my strength back. I want power and agency. I want to write my own destiny not have it written for me.
But that simply isn’t how it works sometimes. Is it. Nope.
I feel that I have stood at a fork in the road. One way leads along a path of struggling and fighting the bitter fight I have always known. Trying to be what I could never be. Complete and undamaged, well and whole.
But the truth is, that way only ever caused heartache and grief. Not only those things of course. I have a heart filled to overflowing with love and I shared that around liberally. I let everyone I met feel how wonderful and precious they were to me.
I truly miss going to my work and seeing the smile upon the lips and in the eyes of those with who I shared my love. I miss being greeted with kisses and hugs.
But the truth is, that way of resistance was not the right way.
The other path in that fork in the road is a lonelier and more painful way. But it is a better way of healing and hope. Although that way requires me to accept what I have always resisted accepting.
I am not complete and whole. I am not fully able and capable. I have been grievously injured. I have been made ill. I cannot do all those things I wish to do. And for as much as it hurts like hell and scares the living daylights out of me. I must take that other path. The other way at that fork in the road.
Uncertainty grieves me. Worry and doubt assails me. I have fear. How the hell I am going to keep body and soul together? This is an issue.
But there are things I can do. I have hope still. Perhaps more hope than I can see in this moment. Let’s just see.
But I feel also, despite my doubts. That this new direction I have chosen is a better way. A way via which I can be more properly and truly me. I have made much progress in this and I would make far more yet.
And I still have my writing. I still have my words. I have some hope that maybe I could do something worthwhile with that. I could be a writer. Hell, I am a writer. Ain’t that just what I am doing right now? How about that?
Maybe that’s who I am? Maybe that’s who I can be? Let’s just see what will be.
And if you made it this far in my rambling post, I am more grateful and glad of your companionship than I can express.
Truly I am.
Please wish me luck and cross your fingers for me. Cross you heart too if such is your will and your way. And thank you for reading.