My birthday was last week. It came and went. I’m 26. Big deal. I’m feeling pretty down about it.
Last year at this time…
Last year at this time I was planning for a future that no longer exists.
As much as the dreams of getting married and having children are at the forefront of my mind, I refuse to indulge these thoughts. I won’t buy wedding magazines until I’m engaged. And I won’t buy baby name books and baby clothes until I’m having a baby. The reality of possibly never having either of those things is too harsh to act like they are a guarantee, only for them to turn out not to be.
I can’t let the dream get ahead of me. I can’t wish for it to happen and wish for it to happen only to have it not happen. Everybody’s getting married. Everybody’s having babies, and I’m just trying to hang on and get my shit right (literally and figuratively).
The bottom line is that we do what we do based on the information that we have at the time. That’s all we can really go on. We can’t change the past, and we can’t predict the future, no matter how much we would like to think we can.
So is there a part of me that questions what the medications I’m currently on are doing to my future odds of having a child? Absolutely. But the reality is, if I’m not alive, I can’t have a child. So I have to focus on the fact that at least on most days, I am functioning with the meds.
I’m kind of messed up right now. I don’t want to be one of those bitter, single people. Worse, I don’t want to be a bitter, single, chronically ill person who can’t get a man and is sleeping her life away on the couch on Saturday night.
Love is like heartburn. Or heartbreak is like heartburn. Or something like that. I think there are some guys who don’t know the difference between love and indigestion. It feels the same to them.
Heartbreak feels like shit. Heartbreak feels like getting sick all over again.
Is that weird? Am I crazy that I compare the two?
When my life turned into an after school special a few years ago my life was everything I had always hoped it would never be. My life became a cliché. And I hated it. And I fell into the arms of someone I thought I could trust. And he lied and cheated, but will maintain to his dying day that he is an upstanding human being. And then I met my ex, and I don’t really know what else to say about him. I’m so conflicted. Love. And hate. So much pleasure, and yet, so much pain.
And you know what is so fucked up about this? I’m not the fucked up one. These guys are totally fucked up. AND NOW I’M FUCKED UP BECAUSE OF THEM!
And I’m fucked up because of illness, too. It was so much easier to fight when the fight mattered to someone other than me. And I know that it should matter to me when it’s just me in the picture. But it’s so hard. It’s so hard to fight to feel good and to stay strong.
Where Do You Go When You Don’t Have Any Fight Left?
But then I realize these words do not express who I really am. They express me when I am down in the dumps. They are me after I was dumped by a man I dated for over a year, who I loved deeply, and thought was “the one.”
From the first moment I was born, I came out kicking and screaming, and fighting.
I thought that I would fight until the end, to the death, for everything that I believed in.
Where did that person go?
I let myself believe that my life was going to get better.
And I believed that. And was seduced by that.
Where is the person who was always waiting for the next shoe to drop, anxious and on guard, but ready for anything?
What happened to that person, who wanted to make it through graduate school if it killed me, who now feels content to fade into the background and disappear?
Where is the snarky 20-something who questioned my rheumatologist at every turn, who now feels like being so agreeable?
Where is the person who put it all out there, on the floor, who wanted to live life with no regrets, only to succumb to the heartbreak of being with a boy disguised in the body of a man?
I need to cut my losses, pick up the pieces, and move on. But I wonder how much more heartbreak I can take, physically and emotionally. I’m fighting with GI hoping that they’ll throw me a bone. And I’m fighting with the universe. A bone. Just one. Is that so much to ask?
I don’t want to be so caught up in what ifs (the future) that I miss the present. And I don’t want to be so caught up in never agains (the past) that I miss the present, too. So how to cope with the unfortunate things that life has thrown at me, all the while remaining positive, upbeat, and happy? How do I make myself a better person, despite the hurt and pain that others have caused?
How do I battle back against all odds?