Broken
I am lonely and broken, leaking tears, and not one to be around. My children know it and leave any time they can. I can't make them stay, and if I could, it would only make things worse. It is I who must find the healing path before I can hope to mend us as a family, but right now, I don't know the way. All I want to do is to die and hope that there is a place where I can once again meet my only true love.
If I wasn't in the middle of this I would call it such sentimental twaddle. I normally don't hold with self pity and self sorrow, but here, in this time, I cannot fight my way out of it. This is a hard time for sure.
Perhaps if I did not know that my own disease is stirring I would feel more positive. The dragon is waking though. I feel its hot breath in my sleep as the night sweats come and I awake drenched and clammy. I take drugs to sleep, but they are not enough now to see me through the dark hours. How unkind to wake a sick and heartbroken man in the wee hours when there is no one breathing soft and slow beside him. How cruel life can be. Death perhaps is kinder.
I know this will pass someday. The feelings of misery and lonliness, I mean. I don't know if I will live to see it. I have not told my children of the reoccurance of my cancer. How could I on top of their mother's death from the same. I must tell them soon however. I will have to do some kind of evil treatment that will rot me from the inside and make my hair fall out. It will be like a rerun for them - parent in bed, listless, ugly, sucked in as though an alien bug laid a clutch in their father's stomach and they are eating him little by little for snacks and goodies.
How cruel. How sad.
They will survive and they will be strong, but they will carry the scars of this for all of their lives. Orphans before they leave high school. Tough stuff for a kid.
It makes me sick just to sit here and write this. I am not one to condone self pity and here I sit, wallowing in it. Enough. Enough said.
P.
If I wasn't in the middle of this I would call it such sentimental twaddle. I normally don't hold with self pity and self sorrow, but here, in this time, I cannot fight my way out of it. This is a hard time for sure.
Perhaps if I did not know that my own disease is stirring I would feel more positive. The dragon is waking though. I feel its hot breath in my sleep as the night sweats come and I awake drenched and clammy. I take drugs to sleep, but they are not enough now to see me through the dark hours. How unkind to wake a sick and heartbroken man in the wee hours when there is no one breathing soft and slow beside him. How cruel life can be. Death perhaps is kinder.
I know this will pass someday. The feelings of misery and lonliness, I mean. I don't know if I will live to see it. I have not told my children of the reoccurance of my cancer. How could I on top of their mother's death from the same. I must tell them soon however. I will have to do some kind of evil treatment that will rot me from the inside and make my hair fall out. It will be like a rerun for them - parent in bed, listless, ugly, sucked in as though an alien bug laid a clutch in their father's stomach and they are eating him little by little for snacks and goodies.
How cruel. How sad.
They will survive and they will be strong, but they will carry the scars of this for all of their lives. Orphans before they leave high school. Tough stuff for a kid.
It makes me sick just to sit here and write this. I am not one to condone self pity and here I sit, wallowing in it. Enough. Enough said.
P.
Copyright ©2003-2007 Phaedrous
posted by Phaedrous at 8:27 PM
3 Comments:
it is not wallowing to admit where you are emotionally. thank you for your honesty. i do hope there are friends or family who can sit with you and listen and offer a shoulder or ear or hug at times when you may need it.
i know you are not a religious person and i hope it does not offend you for me to say i pray for your comfort and healing.
As one who lost both parents early, it IS tough, and they WILL survive. Hang in there. And if you need someone to talk to, I have two ears to listen. No advice, just a listening ear. I cannot imagine the pain and frustration you must be feeling.
How terrible. I'm so very sorry. You hang in there and get well.
...
I am not sure how this works and if you care... but I know a man who had terminal cancer and he beat it with his own mind. He kept telling himself that he was fine and that he could overcome it with the treatment and he did. The cancer is still here but he still lives and he even started travelling again, which he could not do in the last 10 years.
...
It can be done. Believe in yourself
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