fight of my life

so this is the fight of my life. some days, these days. i have to psyche myself up just to get out of bed. cause for fucks sake you can't feel okay on a liquid diet. and i have to go forward with this. with this body i have been given with all its beauty and its breaks. and its pretty broken. my god. if only you had left me with a little more blood. a little more muscle. a little more courage. but this is what i have and i know i am lucky to even be here after all of that but when they told me i would never be the same i didn't know they meant i would never be the same. i miss my old body. i miss being able to run fast and far. i miss hiking. i miss ballet. i miss eating. i miss getting drunk. i miss living without all this stupid pain.

and i have to go on. my stomach might be like this for months and i have to get up each day and go to work and throw up on the bus and study for lsats and drink broth and gaterade and eat a quarter of a sandwich at a time. because i can't give up now. not after all of this. but i would be lying if i didn't say that some days i want to.

some days i want to say.

i surrender.

i give up.

i don't want to do this anymore.

morphine

i don't like the way i feel on morphine. that rush people talk about. that rush people like. it feels the way that i imagine dying would feel. and my muscles tense up and hurt. and those hospital smells. that get into your clothes. that soap they use. the memories. and one size does not fit all. not ever. i get so lost in those gowns. can't tie them tight enough to cover me. and i miss my heating pad. and i hate being npo. it makes me dream of eggplant parm and mac and cheese and all these things i might never get to actually eat again. if it really is scar tissue hanging out inside of there.
i don't mind the blood tests or the ultra sounds or drinking lidocaine but my mouth gets dry from the drugs. and they don't let me drink any water. and it makes me dizzy when they wheel my bed so fast. and my veins are scared and bruised and tired. and i wish there was more than broth for me to eat.

when i think about

our future, me and joe's, i feel happier than i have ever been. like maybe after all this bullshit or as my therapist says (to soften the blow of it) my "amazing life story" i might actually end up where i always meant to be. i picture a house with the biggest yard and the brightest kitchen in maine. law school and sandwiches on the beach and studying in a library that feels like the forest. a life time of laughing with joe and jenckes. traveling. singing those songs. we will go everywhere. i will always feel safe because my home is his two hands.

i had a birthday

and i am 32.

i wish every weekend could be a weekend away. just me and joe. and the sun and the sea.

angry

i am angry.

angry that you can't be here for me. angry that you will always have the last word. angry that you didn't give me the chance to hear you. angry that you left this way. angry that you froze me out. angry that you gave up on me. angry that this is how it has to be.

i want to break things. or leave things. or hit you.

but i can't. and i am here. trying to be the understanding one still. trying to be self-less. trying to take it.

but i am tired of the punches and i am tired of letting this be the thing we do.

there are things that i had

things that i lost.
those days that turn into the longest days.

i am feeling a little fragile today.

don't be surprised if when you call my name i turn the other way.

this is not what i thought life would be. ivan said that to me a month or two before he took his life. i didn't know then how much that took away from him. so i didn't dissuade him. didn't give him a pep talk or some sunny story that was full of almosts and lies. instead i said i know. me too. i listened. and maybe there was more i now would do.

but i knew what he was saying. i know how that feels. this is not what i thought life would be.


but i don't want to leave. i know this is how i will grow. it's just that this is hard. this is hard. this is hard every single day. and i have to do it anyway.

so i am breathing in. trying to hold onto that light. trying to feel this body that i am in. trying to sit with my sadness and not let it sit ontop of me.

sometimes i do okay.

and this weekend was perfect. again. joe has taught me how to relax. how to be calm and comfortable doing nothing. just reading. making banana bread. hearing the sounds of spring. snuggling.

and it makes monday all that harder. leaving that safe warm place that is full and quiet and warm with him.

we are planning a trip to costa rica for the fall, after my lsats are taken and my law school applications are all turned in. we have finally found a way to keep on running without losing anything at all.

dear ivan,

i am trying. i promise you i am.

but this is hard to do.

every day. breathing deep. saying good bye over and over and over to you.

i do my best.

i give it all i can.

it is all i can do. and sometimes, i know, i am not very good at it.

but i won't give up so please don't you.

back to black

here we are again. that time of the month. when no matter how slow i breath i can't shake the death. ivan invades me. subtle things. coming across his number in my phone. hearing a woman at the conference complain about a "sentimental" resident who has boxes of "clutter" because her son died and she won't get rid on any piece of him... and i turned to my co-worker beside me and said "if someone asked me to throw one thing ivan gave me away i would punch them in the face". i carry his high school i.d. in my purse. sometimes i just reach in and feel the stiff plastic on my hands and it comforts me. just to know that at one time he touched that corner of plastic, knowing that he gave that to me at a time when he loved me, knowing that no one can take that from me.

and i am alone here. and i don't want to network or mingle or watch tv. and i am having a hard hard day.

thank you.

it struck me as i was driving up to connecticut for a conference i am attending for work how hard life can be. how far it is from anything you imagined it would be. how you could never have guessed that both your parents would die, or that a carelessly placed wine glass could threaten to take all your blood, or that your first love would grow up to shoot himself in the head. could never guess you'd get engaged twice before you were thirty and married then divorced too. you thought you'd have better judgment or that you would know it when you were in love (you know it now).

i don't know how i got here. i wouldn't go anywhere else. cause this shit is hard but i am trudging my way through and i am on the brink of the whitest light. the softest breaths. peace will come. and life is so hard but it is also so beautiful. breath-taking really.

hand in hand, shoulder to shoulder, all this fighting to live and grow that we all do. mygod. it knocks me right over some days. knowing the things that we all go through. the way that each of you has woven your ways into my very skin. my toes. how i feel you. how you carry me. how it all gets harder and clearer and easier to let go. to accept the journey. to know that you will never know.

and i am doing my best. you are. and the love. this love. is all i've ever wanted to know.

Battles

Hilary: 1 Blue Cross: 0.

But the war has not been won. And I am tired of the fighting. Of spending my days split between ultra sounds, lab tests, and calls to doctors, pharmacies and blue cross. This is not my job. This is not how I want to spend my days. And I confess I have gotten so fed up I find myself flying off the handle the second that voice on the phone starts rattling their Blue Cross Bull Shit. "Who are YOU to tell my DOCTOR what medication is best for ME." That sort of thing.

I don't want to feel so angry.

And it can't help this ulcer that I have developed since not having my medications.

And here in Boston we are boiling our water due to a water main 'catastrophe'. It has been hot. The red line is still running slow-ly. Delays Abound.

And the weekend was nice. Dinner and a movie with my parents. Joe and I spent a lot of time reading, sitting in the sun, laying in the park, watching the hours pass by. It is nice to let go. To not do things that I think I SHOULD be doing. To instead just do the things we want.

Love that Dirty Water.