If you would have told me exactly one year ago what was in store this past year, I would have said, “No thank you!”
It’s been a weird year, for the world and for me. The world has become such a weird place I’m convinced we’re some alternate universe project and we’re actually in a jar somewhere, forgotten in a teen’s bedroom after the science fair or we’re in some kind worst-case scenario simulator. (The plot isn’t even plausible anymore with these Vanilla Ice and Kanye West twists. I think the Cubs made some kind of dastardly deal to win the World Series two years ago.)
As for me: I was deathly ill and rushed to the hospital in January, and remained sick for five months. My boyfriend of 12 years is gone. Sometimes I think that I’m doing pretty well, and then I remember that it was actually a year ago that a big portion of my life fell apart. A year ago is the last night I went to sleep with an illusion of my life intact, though I had known by that point that I would always have cancer. I worried it was the last birthday I’d be able to celebrate, and if it weren’t for PRRT treatment, I think I would still maybe have been too sick to have much of a birthday this year.
Last year didn’t go as planned. I spent the evening of my 40th birthday crying and devastated, wishing I’d never been born, in fact. I was told I ruined everything. A year ago, I started to see the truth that I felt maybe I already knew deep down. Once I saw it, couldn’t un-see it, though I was willing to do so until that choice was taken away earlier this summer.
A year ago, my left middle finger was still intact but my spirit was broken. I walked on eggshells all the time. I felt stifled. I tried to be happy, yet I often felt disappointed in who I’d become. I felt a duality, which only worsened after my birthday weekend last year.
I’ve been told my broken finger is all my fault. OK, then. Fine. I don’t have the energy to disagree. I went to the doctor the day after it was broken and I had a finger splint but it healed crooked. I bite my nails so it’s not like I’ll ever be hand model. It’s barely noticeable. I see its misshapen form whenever I do yoga and am in warrior two. I feel like a terrible warrior when I think of all I put up with and how it got broken. It hurts on rainy days like today.
It’s funny that it’s my middle finger.
I don’t say much about it anymore. When I’ve told the story, I tried to tell it in an impartial way. I don’t tell people much about the breakup because I don’t want to make people uncomfortable. I don’t care much about it anymore. I sometimes feel like I’m not being true to myself to stay so quiet, but it’s also not worth thinking about when I want to and need to move forward. I’ve held my tongue so much it physically hurt. I would grind my teeth at night from stress and my tongue hurt when I woke up.
I’m much less angry than the person who has been bottling things up for years. I don’t have time left on this earth and I don’t have time to be angry anymore.
Also, I wear a mouthguard at night.
Sometimes, I feel like I have no choice like today, an anniversary of sorts. Today was kind of tough.
I am happy to be able to surround myself with people who love and support me. This year I have a getaway planned. I’m not going to pay for my own birthday dinner or for a hotel room I didn’t sleep in. I can look towards the end with a sense of peace and I can treasure the limited time I have with people who make me smile and who sometimes make me laugh so hard, I worry I’ll pass out. Sometimes, they make me cry with their generosity and thoughtfulness. That’s the kind of crying I have room for in my life.
I’ve felt a duality for years between the person I feel I am who was stifled by trying to be in a situation I shouldn’t have been in.
I often feel misunderstood. Since May I worried that people would mistake strength for indifference or coldness. I worried that people would mistake kindness for weakness. I worried that people would mistake assertiveness for meanness or pettiness.
But I also don’t have time to worry. If anyone thinks I deserved this or that I haven’t been fair or that I should stay quiet, then allow me to close the rest of my fingers on my left hand and extend this crooked middle finger skyward.
Amen