(Re-posted from http://jenanita01.wordpress.com)
I am normally optimistic about the new year approaching.
But not this time…
I already knew how it would start, and I wouldn't be making any resolutions because of it. The operation to remove the cancer from my right breast was scheduled, and right now, I wish it were over and done with. The prognosis is good, they say, but until they operate, they won’t know for sure.
So this could just be a small inconvenience, or the start of something so much more serious. My instincts are normally good enough to rely on, but this time they have let me down and I have no clue what will happen.
The thought of the possible battle, not to mention the loss of my hair, does not scare me at all. I have always been a fighter, so no change there.
But because my instincts and emotions seem to have been hit by a truck, I don’t know what to feel. It all seems a bit surreal, almost like a practical joke, or something happening to someone else. I have always been almost painfully independent, but now I realise I cannot do this alone. I am becoming what I feared the most, needy.
My life seems to have been one fight (struggle) after another, and my first book, The Ninth Life is more than a little biographical. I have almost bought the farm so many times and was fantasising about not being able to die at all. That wonderful, indescribable feeling has just been snatched away, leaving me feeling less than mortal. I feel like a child with a broken promise to deal with. I was hoping that getting to my seventies might mean a gentle slide into peace and tranquillity. Obviously not happening any time soon.
For some reason, Jesse is conspicuous by his absence, which is a shame, for I miss feeling his dark doggy presence. Depression can be a strange comfort at times, for it can blanket your fears and stop you thinking. Something I would really welcome round about now.
Usually on New Year’s Eve, I am the life and soul of the celebrations, always optimistic about the possibilities of the incoming year. I love to listen to the chimes of Big Ben, preferably right there on the embankment in London, but failing that, seeing and hearing it on the TV. Turned up loud, so the vibrations can reach my soul as the huge bell strikes the hour.
This year was so very different.
There was no party mood, no drink in hand. I sat and listened to Big Ben, but this time there were tears running down my face. I didn’t really know how I felt, and this in itself was upsetting. My life seems to be on hold. Nothing is as it seems and I already hate what I am becoming. Where has my hope, all my optimism gone?
This had better all be temporary, or there will be hell to pay, of that much I am certain. I always felt as though I would go on forever, and now I don’t feel that anymore, I am all at once lost. I am turning into a doubting Thomas…and it will not do at all…