For years my writing was connected with me being sick and I am not sick anymore. I was also afraid that my writing wouldn’t be interesting enough anymore now I am not sick anymore. But I don’t write to be interesting. I write because I like to write and because I ‘need’ it. Continue reading
The last fourteen days where a bit ‘different’.
And although I did collapse yesterday evening and they weren’t all good days, it turned out to be a positive period.
In “Under Construction” I told you that I am trying to find a reason for how I am feeling, so I can accept it better.
But I think I can accept it very well myself, but the outside world can’t.
I think I am searching for an explanation for the outside world.
People don’t ask how I am doing anymore, they ask; “Are you already working again? Or When are you going to work again?”
And then I feel guilty, because I can’t answer; “No, I am still not working because I am terribly ill”
I am not terribly ill, but going to work would be too much. I can’t even do my own housekeeping, and if I do get groceries I need to rest when I come back home. I can’t even live my live normally, so how can I add my work to this?
Some people say, “But if you start working, and you have a normal life again, will do you good, you will feel ok again then”
Which implies that I am imagining things, what I feel is not real, so I pity myself. Only they say this with “well meant, nice” words.
Well for me these words don’t feel that nice or well meaning at all. It makes me very angry.
Yesterday my son said: “Mom, don’t worry so much, they are not in it, they are not experiencing it, they don’t know what they are talking about, ignore what they say.”
And he is right.
You can all be tired of me being sick.
But I am sick and getting tired of you all.
Today I have been to my surgeon, the one who clipped my aneurysm through my skull at the end of November last year.
Everything was ok and all the problems I am experiencing is all part of my recovery.
I don’t have to go back to him anymore.
Being dizzy, too much light, getting sick, being tired and so on, all of it is “normal”.
He only thought that I experienced things much more intensely than others may be.
I need to have patience, don’t underestimate the operation. It will take about 1,5 years before I will be completely recovered, or when I can say I will have residual symptoms or not.
I am allowed to do more, if needed, he thought I was already doing great.
I also had an old experience in a “new jacket” today.
Mown grass, normally I am lightly allergic to it, I start sneezing. But today I smelled the smell for the first time since my operation, and this was so fierce, that I felt that I was floating.
But this all makes me a bit emotional.
I am happy that all I feel is “normal”, happy that it is all part of it.
But it is also a closure of a chapter in my life.
Saying goodbye to a man who was part of my life for about a year, thanks to whom I still have a life, is weird.
Closing this chapter confronts me with the fact of how lucky I have been and how thankful I am that I am still alive and doing well.
I have been crying for a while today.
It feels good.
I call them part 2 and 3, because it all has to do with that one night. That night made me think a lot.
I talked with “him” a few times since that night, and I already wasn’t in love or anything, but it would have been the wrong choice again, ha ha ha :)
It was all exciting, but…., it isn’t H.
I think I appreciate H. more because of this experience, I already did appreciate him, but it became clearer all did for me and how he was to me.
But what didn’t change is that I miss “the man” in H. The type of man which puts his shoulders under a problem and solves it, goes for it. The “roarrrrrrrrr thing” in a man.
And may be a part of this feeling is my own insecurity.
Looking for this “he will save me if everything goes wrong” thing.
On the other hand, missing “the man”, gives me the feeling that I have an extra child.
And I don’t want that.
I know I met H. under difficult circumstances, which he could deal with in a great way. He couldn’t be “the man” , no job, no money and a very sick girlfriend. He did take care of me for 10 months.
H. could deal with it, while I thought he was being “weak”.
I am also thinking about something my sister said.
We were at the hospital cafeteria, and there was some pathetic guy in a wheelchair, someone else had to take care of him.
My sister said something like: “ Our men will do that for us too, that is one thing we are sure about, they will take care of us”. And I think we both agreed that that was a great feeling.
Because something I do know about H. is , he will always be there for me.
All those “men” take care of you in a different way. They take care of you in a way that you have everything.
They basically take care of money and things, the rest you have to do yourself. They are not sitting next to your bed the whole day, just to be there for you.
So….. is “the man” that important?
May be H. is more “man” than all “men” together.