16 Apr

It is done. The Forgiven One and I met to lay old ghosts to rest. We met at a burger bar for a conversation dotted with highs and lows, alternating from strained to animated. It wasn’t the evening I was expecting but an old fear was instantly dispelled: I felt no sexual attraction to the man sat across the table.

I felt the warmth and love I feel towards all my fellow human beings but there was nothing… improper… about the depth of feelings experienced. I shall always love The Forgiven One in my own, platonic way. He was once my everything – the beat of my heart, the warmth to my breath, the smile upon my face. He was also the polar opposite to all those things, bringing icy cold isolation, grief and misery to my life. We share a terrible history and it is one I have often sought to re-write, to no avail.

I am glad to have moved on from the past and to know that we are both mentally stronger… and certainly wiser!

Spring Showers & Summer Heat

4 Apr

The month of March was what many teenagers would describe as “real”. I experienced all manner of emotions and situations, from weeping with relief and joy at my father living to see another birthday, to grieving my childless future following a touching celebration for my cousin’s 16th. Spring always promises to bring showers and my tears responded to the season as if it was Commander and Chief. Throughout these Spring showers, I have somehow managed to bask in Summer heat: the warming glow of reciprocated love for family and friends.

I have accumulated many happy memories throughout March. These were not created through momentous or dramatic events; it was the small, short, blink-and-miss occurrences which gave me a sense of euphoria. They outweighed and outshone the pain of illness and the isolation of loneliness. They made me smile, laugh, clap and celebrate. They gave me happiness and positivity. They gave me hope and faith for continued joy and a bright future.

There Is Good Within Us All

2 Apr

It was only a week ago when my eyelids held back unshed tears – scalding lava crusting over agonised retinas – in response to an unintentional slight by The Forgiven One. A few days later, he made contact with a thoughtful gesture, reaffirming my belief that there is good within us all.

I was so moved by his actions: surprised yet touched that he thought me worth the effort. He wasn’t always so considerate, nor selfless. Neither, I suppose, was I. We share a terrible history yet I do not regret my own actions: there is nothing for which I should feel guilty, nor ashamed.

There were moments during my battle with depression when that knowledge provided unappreciated strength: rage and a sense of injustice are both powerful motivators. Unsurprisingly, I lament my emotional response to being backstabbed (depression and grief are more than debilitating) but I cannot blame anyone, least of all myself, for suffering a negative reaction in response to a pre-meditated betrayal. My actions were unplanned and reactive, not calculating and deliberate – as is often the case with those of us who have been backstabbed. Sadly, we rarely come across a backstabber who can say the same.

At this stage, I am long past attributing blame and pointing the finger. I feel no need. I am fuelled by acceptance rather than anger; hope instead of fear. I have embraced the concept of a future and I am glad to be a survivor.

Of course, hurdles remain scattered across my path: the endless debate which rages in my head (pondering my unidentified purpose and the fear that I am better off dead) shows no signs of fatigue; it merely saunters through my mind instead of sprinting endless laps around my temple. Yet, somehow, through all the turmoil, I am capable of finding joy, gratitude and optimism.

The past seven months have been genuinely amazing: my sense of place, of being present and capable, has steadily grown and developed; my confidence has improved; I have stepped beyond my comfort zone; I have even experienced desire, attraction and happiness. I still feel the shadows of worthlessness and isolation casting a chill across my path, yet I do not resent their lingering. This is the happiest I have felt in years – even in the face of illness, loneliness and unemployment.

It is a startling contrast to the place in which I found myself trapped at this point last year. I have read over my blogs from that period and I feel intensely relieved to now perch upon higher ground, gazing over the past from a safe and comfortable distance. Of course, there remains nothing but a short drop to separate our locations and I remain vigilant: flying back over the edge seems unlikely, however, I still prefer to stand as far back as possible.

The Forgiven One and I are due to meet soon, to officially bury former grudges and to banish old ghosts. Peace shall reign at last. I hope. The nightmares which have plagued my sleep since October 2012 have become less intense and, thankfully, more infrequent, over recent months. I pray that meeting The Forgiven One will forever vanquish their presence from my mind. I cannot change our diabolical history, but I can ensure that I blaze a path towards the future with dignity, composure, pride, compassion and acceptance.

I won the war. It took a while, but the conflict is over – internally and externally. I am the undisputed victor because it is I who finally walked tall enough to see a horizon of peace. I steered myself towards a haven of serenity and reward. The Forgiven One is meeting me at the end by invitation. He is there at my behest, because I have conquered all my demons… an army he amassed and once led to destroy me, yet only served to make me stronger. It is impossible not to value one who bestowed my being with such a treasured gift.

I am lucky to be here and The Forgiven One is lucky to have lost the war: my death would have one day come back to haunt him and we would have both been robbed of untainted peace. I cannot wait to see him to rejoice in our fledgling friendship and to enjoy the luxury of being alive to experience it.

Happy Birthday, Dad!

26 Mar

Today is a special day: my father’s birthday. His health is so precarious – and given that my mother has fought her own medical battles over the past year – it is truly a wonder and a blessing that we are all here, together, to celebrate another milestone.

I am so lucky to have a family. I nearly lost them all through paranoia and depression, yet here we are: together. And grateful.

Happy Birthday, Dad!

A Day at the Hospital

25 Mar

I spent my day at the hospital in need of emergency care. In fact, I had to visit two hospitals after the first one told me to go to a more advanced medical facility. I am tired and in pain but resolved to stay calm and unemotional.

In light of this stance, the tears currently burning behind my eyelids, like acid bombs, shall never scald my cheeks. Sadly, their presence is not triggered by the physical pain still assaulting my body: my tears have formed in response to tonight’s experience of being treated as worthless – yet again – by The Forgiven One. He has been so thoughtless in response to a selfless deed on my part, yet I do not feel anger. I am greatly saddened by my own actions and misplaced kindness. I should have known better than to expect any respect.

I should have known better… so why have I allowed myself to be treated in such a manner? Tomorrow, at least, is a new day – even if I cannot ever be a new person. Ah well.

I still believe that everything happens for a reason and we are all on a journey of varying lengths. I recognise that I have arrived at the wrong crossroad upon which The Forgiven One and I should meet, cross paths and safely move forward. There will be other opportunities – of that, I am certain. This is a delay in the journey to an inevitable destination. I am sad to be slowed down but glad to have directional guidance.

Mother’s Day

15 Mar

It’s Mother’s Day in the United Kingdom – a time for celebration, appreciation and worship. I am grateful that my mother has survived the scourge of Cancer to reach this special day and I thank God for our continued blessings.

Naturally, during moments of solitude, I wonder about my future and the poor health which has rendered my body fruitless. There shall come a time when I am all alone; no parents nor children with which to celebrate Mother’s Day. I am not depressed: I am resigned. I cannot change the past… I can only accept the present and adapt to any challenges waiting patiently to present themselves within my future.

I am grateful for all I possess: family, friends, shelter, food and many other basic, yet abundant, riches (they are too plentiful to list nor count). I am undeniably fortunate and, predominantly, happy to be alive.

I am, however, still human…

Upon occasion, particularly on days such as this, I catch myself wondering how the other half live: the mothers, the girlfriends, the wives, the employed, the inspirational… the singular groups which together form that enviable collective of ‘the valued’.

There are many special days in the calendar to celebrate ‘the valued’ – from Valentine’s to Mother’s Day – yet there are none to support nor uplift the disadvantaged, defective or unlovable. We idolise the contribution of ‘the valued’ to mankind. We reward them for being fertile, loved and adored, as if they slogged through hardship and disadvantage to reach such lofty heights. Often, their accomplishments are incidental: we are all supposed to be fertile, loved and adored. Nature designed it as such to continue our species.

Those of us who are treated and perceived to be somehow less than the rest of our species are penalised for being defective, as if we selected our fate and opted to be childless, alone or ridiculed. I cannot help to question how we emerged: are we a fail-safe feature, cunningly engineered by Nature to serve as a covert form of population control? This bleak notion disregards my earlier summation: everyone is meant to be blessed with fertility, love and adulation. Perhaps there are no rogue mutations and, by design and intention, a percentage of the population is required to be shunned. Suddenly, we are all ‘normal’ rather than ‘abnormal’… how refreshing.

It’s an unconventional conclusion, yet it warrants speculation. After all, natural selection has not favoured my being. I am far from healthy, devoid of physical beauty and blighted by genetic limitations. Regardless, I am not bitter, angry – nor even defeated – I am… dare I say it… disappointed.

That must seem ungrateful. In truth, it is. I should be proud of myself at all times. There will never be a special day in the calendar to celebrate nor commemorate my achievements, status or existence so the least I can do is rejoice in my own skin. I confess, I have little success in this endeavour. I have ongoing self-esteem issues which I acknowledge but, thankfully, no longer allow to overcome my emotions.

I can never hope to erase the stain of worthlessness from my soul and I have taken to wearing it like a badge, defiantly embracing that which others choose to reject. I am a victim of scorn and contempt, yet I am still a human being. I have never deserved the cruelty and shame inflicted by others. I do, admittedly, deserve a certain degree of disdain: I am the fool who allowed the aforementioned cruel treatment to continue. It took many anguished months of melancholy and self-loathing to understand the contribution I made to my own downfall. Reaching the pit of despair which finally embodied “rock bottom” was an arduous, prolonged journey. My ascension from its murky bogs was thankfully far more swift and steady.

I am able to appreciate and value occasions such as Mother’s Day and I treasure the joy and emotion displayed by my mum in response to my cards and gifts. I know there will come a time when loneliness shall creep into Mother’s Day yet I shall warmly and fondly recall all those I was blessed to share with my mum. Memories change and fade but love – real love, such as that exchanged between parent and child – has no face nor image to which one can cling. It is a never ending sensation: a wave which never breaks; a journey never finished; a conversation never concluded; a thought never lost; a hug never broken. It perseveres and sustains our souls, soothes our bodies and comforts our minds. It is as necessary as oxygen, water and food: an elixir gifted to the human race by God, Nature, the universe – whichever you choose.

Each beat of my heart pumps love, as well as air, throughout my body and, thus, I cannot help but value Mother’s Day and all other special occasions. The celebration of those we love is a wonderful experience and I treasure every second with my glorious, brave and precious mother. I hope and pray we shall share many more.

Nicely Explained: “The Pain Of Falling For A Guy Who Only ‘Kinda’ Likes You”

23 Feb


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