Tuesday, June 13, 2017

Denail is a river - June


"It's back. It's back. It's back."

Like an endless loop, those words scream in my head, my gut, every single fucking cell in my body, screaming IT'S BACK.

"No. No, its not. Lightening doesn't strike twice in the same place."

This is an example of my internal dialogue after finding a lump again in the same breast that I'd had a lumpectomy in two years previously.

Every time I felt it, a sense of familiarity came over me. I knew in my gut what it was. But denial is a river, and I got swept up in that river until the middle of June. I went to my GP and got a referral for an ultrasound, which couldn't take place for a week. I went and saw my radiation oncologist for my 6 monthly check up. He examined me, and requested that he be sent a copy of the report when it was done.

A day after the ultrasound I received a phone call from my GP requesting I come in to discuss the results. The radiologist had requested further testing -  core biopsy on the lump in my right breast, and a fine needle aspiration on a lump found in my left breast.

Apparently lightening can strike in the same place twice.

I wasn't able to get an appointment for these procedure for two weeks, as the radiologist had gone on holidays. The alternative was paying $500 up front to have it done at another centre. This wasn't an option. After feeding, housing, being a bloody ATM to the Narcissist, I didn't have a spare $500 to cough up, especially to confirm what I already knew to be true. So I waited.

And the loop continued.

Saturday, June 10, 2017

I want...

I want to lean into you.
To rest my head against your chest 
and listen to the sound of your heart beating.

I want to feel your embrace. 
Arms wrapped around me,
 chin gently rubbing the top of my head.

I want to taste your lips. 
Rest our foreheads against each other's
 and breathe in each other's breath.

I want to listen to your voice.
 Question your thoughts.
 Ask why, and what if, and how.

I want to lay in your arms. 
Fall asleep in the safe cocoon of your embrace.
 Wake with your arm around my waist.

I want to not feel afraid. 
To feel the fear and do it anyway. 
To take a leap and learn how to fly.

I want to trust in myself.
 To have no expectations. No disappointments, 
but often beautiful sweet surprises of the unexpected.

Thursday, December 22, 2016

Shameless May

Half way through May I unceremoniously kicked out of my house the narcissistic parasite that I had allowed to attach to my heart.

Actually, it was fairly dramatic to be honest. After telling him that if he didn't have his stuff removed from my residence by 5.30pm that evening, I would start putting it out on the street. As he felt omnipotent, as narcissists do, he didn't heed my threat. Trouble was, I had reached my breaking point, and proceeded to carry out my threat.

On one trip to the gutter Nathan said to me "I feel like I'm living in an episode of Shameless." I replied, "So do I. For the last three years!" and continued putting stuff in the gutter. (Not proud of this. Just an example of how perfectly imperfect I am as well.)

I took a photo of what I had already put out there and sent it to him. Funnily enough, he arrived within 5 minutes of the photo being sent. Extremely intoxicated. Did I mention that he's also an alcoholic and addict? I know. Winning Vicky - I sure can pick 'em! Send your wounded, damaged, addicted souls to me.

When he arrived, he confronted Nathan, "Think you're a big man now do you?" and shoved him. My son is now taller then him, and the same size. But Nathan's a lover, not a fighter, and walked away from him.

The lioness within me had been poked into roaring, and the removal of his belongings amped up a notch. I no longer carefully placed his belongings out of my home. It took all my self control not to attack him. How dare he lay his hands on my son!! I fueled my fury into removing his stuff out of my home faster. He pushed me. I pushed back, walked away and called the police to come and supervise. To come and supervise ME, so that I didn't get pulled into his jungle of deceit and instability. I wasn't afraid of him. I was afraid of me, and what may erupt if I didn't take some control.

Over the previous several months, I had started to become increasingly aware that the thief I had given to my heart to was not who he pretended to be, and had been reading more and more about Narcissistic personality disorder (NPD). Naively, or arrogantly (the jury's still out on that one), I believed that I could help him see that he was unwell, and get the help he needs, and live happily ever after. Trouble is happily ever after only exists in fairy tales.

After I evicted him from my home, I thought I had successfully evicted him from my life as well. I did. For a while. About 5 weeks to be honest. I tried to get on with my life, with reestablishing some sense of order, and reclaiming of my self. Work. Kids. Self. Friends. Life. All the things that had be relegated far down the chain of attention ...easier enough to do when the person you're involved with demands your undivided attention like the succubus they are.

I was in the shower when I first felt a lump near my lumpectomy scar. It wasn't very big, and so close to the scar that I couldn't determine whether it was a lump or an extension of scar tissue. An alarm bell went off in my psyche. Which I promptly shut the fuck down. Yeah... no. Nobody got time for dealing with that shit again thank you very much...

Over the next couple of weeks I would find that my fingers had subconsciously found their way to the lump...was it real? maybe it was my rib I was feeling? no, it's part of the scar...It's nothing... I had a scan in February and it was all clear.... Over and over, as my fingers read my breast like braille, seeking the words of confirmation that it was nothing.

It's ok. I have an appointment with the radiation oncologist mid June. I'll get him to check it. It's ok.

Monday, December 19, 2016

Here's your sunglasses people

On Saturday night I went to a 30th birthday party, with a Great Gatsby theme. I needed earrings to complete my outfit, so I dared to dive into a bag of jewellery that I have been carting around for the last four years, and adding to at each frantic move that has occurred in those four years. I found a pair, and left the bags contents strewn over the floor as the Great Gatsby awaited.

I only got back to the detritus this morning. As I was looking for earrings on Saturday night there were moments of recognition of pieces that I had been given, or made, or brought, like a rapid slide show going off in my head. I had planned to scoop all the contents up and put it back in the bag, to be shoved back in the cupboard, waiting to be carted away the next time I moved house. Except, that's not what happened. I started really looking at the pieces. And remembering...back to times when I wore whatever I wanted, and someone else's approval wasn't sort after, because I really didn't care if anyone else liked it or not. I did, and that was all that mattered.

I found myself slowing down, and sorting through the debris. Oh look, there's a set of earrings! and another! beautiful, intricate, dangling earrings... why did I stop wearing them?  And there's my toe ring!...I thought I had lost that...why did I stop wearing that as well? Broken necklaces and bracelets made from a myriad of crystals, thrown into the bag with the intention of fixing them. Why didn't I fix them?

As I sat on the floor, surrounded by little piles of earrings, broken necklaces and bracelets, and items I no longer wanted, I felt the very long languor that I have been occupying, lift. The shroud that has been over me for far too long, was cast aside. I felt AWAKE.

A beautiful woman died last night. She has been living with terminal bowel cancer for the last 3 years. Her light reached out and touched many of us. In her book Breakfast, School Run, Chemo she wrote "Don't die with your light inside you." Julia, here's to you. Thank you. I'm going to shine brighter then a mother fucking star.

Here's your sunglasses people. I'm no longer dimming my light for anyone.

Thanks Eden.

Monday, September 26, 2016

Skin hunger

As I struggle to find a place that is comfortable to lie in, my body aches for touch.

To feel the curve of someone behind me, safe in their embrace. Their breath on my neck, the length of their body curled around mine. The weight of their presence a comfort, easy, and secure. Their warmth and energy mingling with mine.

Instead I lay within a nest of pillows, strategically placed to offer some support and comfort, and the illusion of weight. No warmth, no energy exchange, a lone tree on a deserted island, surrounded by sea.


Blog Design by Sommerfugl Design