today I have managed:
to wrap presents with my son, giggling over it and watching Christmas movies
to listen to the wind and rain daydreaming about what might have been and what, in some strange twist of fate, may still be
to go slowly and give myself a chance to rest even for ten minutes
to eat properly : three meals: breakfast, lunch and dinner. cereal, sandwiches, rice and vegetables.
to keep myself in the day and not panic about life three, six or twelve months down the line
to feel a tiny bit of the childhood excitement about Christmas.
What is it we were ever looking forward to? It was a feeling of our dreams coming true.
Christmas was always as much about Santa as about Jesus, for me. And they were/are/could be one and the same (my kids think they are probably friends).
It's about your worries ending and your wishes becoming reality and the validation that you have indeed been 'good' - a good Christian, doing what you can for the poor and meek and homeless giving all your change in the collection box in church every Sunday, even if you then drive off to your lovely house on the outskirts of town in your 4by4 and god forbid you ever meet their eye if you see them on the street; a good child, even if you know you've argued with your siblings every single day and you've done little things you know are wrong, stealing little things at school or lying to your parents about things you know are wrong; the very fact that Santa comes and fills your stocking some how makes it all ok again; a good person, because Christ is risen.
It still rings a bit hollow to me, if I am total honest.
And yet I'll take it, I'll take it now; because I'll take any hope on offer right now; even if the hope seems pale and wan. I'll take any of it because otherwise there is just total and utter bleak, black, dark, sinking, shattering despair.
So. Happy Christmas :)
About Me
- rainbowgirl
- This blog is about coping with the strains of chronic illness whilst bringing up two beautiful children; it's also about the stresses of bringing up two children on your own while suffering with a chronic ongoing health problem which is at times very severe.... you can look at it either way. It's about being a single mum; it's about raising awareness of Interstitial Cystitis; it's about helping me cope. Writing this blog is beginning to bring me back to who I really am, who I really always was, before the single motherhood took over full time, before the illness set in.... a writer. I've always written, from essays to stories to journalism. This is the first thing I've written in years. It's helping me regain my confidence. PLEASE DO LEAVE ME COMMENTS AFTER MY POSTS! I'd genuinely love to hear your views on my (sometimes controversial) opinions. Thank you for taking the time to read. It would be great if you could comment so I know that you've been here and what you think.
I'm so glad you posted. Kept checking back and was wondering how you were (reader of blog and fellow IC er). I had a mini-breakdown on Christmas day in the evening and was feeling suicidal about this constant bladder pain. I realised I had been shutting everyone out, so I confided in a family member. Even though the pain hasn't gone, I feel a bit more optimistic and motivated knowing that someone is "behind" me. It;s still so hard to have hope and be proactive with this though )-: Hope you had a good Christmas (well as good as it could be given the circs) x x
ReplyDeleteand do keep commenting; it is SO good to get feedback, and especially if I did help a little bit, that makes me feel really as if there is some point in this whole sick joke!x
DeleteThank you so much. This is the whole reason - well, a large part of the reason - that I write my blog. I hate to think of us all feeling so alone when there must be so many of us feeling this way. Yes, I've been shutting people out too. Or bombarding them with so much IC info that they just want to run screaming for the whiskey bottle. Funniest thing I was told over Christmas to do with IC was a well-meaning relative of mine said 'you know, Rainbow, my aunt had MS, and she never, ever, complained. everyone in the village always wanted to come and see her. she had a smile for everyone. you'd never have known.' (apart from the fact that she was wheelchair bound I imagine...). I politely enquired if she was a single mum of two and was attempting to live my life. the answer, of course, was no, but the message was clear - cheer the fuck up, or you'll have no friends left. Guess it'll just be me, the kids, the cat and Box Sets of Dallas then (don't ask). I'm about to start the Elmiron. I'm bricking it.
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