Posted by: alainnneart | July 26, 2009

by the time you’re 35

Like most teenagers, I had a few problems that I thought were the end of the world.  DO you remember the times where the littlest things just rocked your world?  And only you went through them?

I admit, that as a teenager, I was depressed.  I wore a lot of black.  The truth is, I didn’t fit in with my classmates.  I am sure that every one really feels this way at times but really, I didn’t fit in with my classmates.  I had skipped some grades.  I got picked on, a lot, thanks to my siblings, and being smart if not socially awkward.

I have been reading through my old diaries.   As it turns out, I was obsessed with death and ending my life when I was a teenager.  Obviously, I got through the teen years, with only a few physical scars to prove I was there.  More emotional scars then anything else.  But I digress…

I seem to have the underlying theme that death has always been chasing me.  I have been injured in several accidents in my life, and yet here I am.  My heart has stopped before, and yet here I am.  It always has seemed to me that what ever the world could throw at me, I could throw back and survive.

I work in a hospital where people constantly surround me in various stages of death.  I don’t say living anymore, because we are all dying, metaphorically speaking, and I see the stages with many patients.  Remission for the 4th time, newly diagnosed, end stage…. I think I work with people like this to remind me how fragile life actually is.

But now comes the lump.  When I got my second opinion, the doc asked if it hurt at all.  “Nahhh…” I answered, “it’s just there and surprising, that’s all”

But you see that is not exactly true.

I have had pain on that breast for a while.  I pushed it to the back of my head, thinking I needed better bras or I was infused with PMS.  Hell, I even thought maybe I was pregnant, but that would be divine intervention.  It would have been smarter to actually look at the pain earlier, or even admit to it.  But to admit to it is admitting to defeat?

While I am not looking forward to being jabbed in the breast with a giant needle next week, I do want this obsessive feeling to go away.  Perhaps it’s just the ghosts of my past self, all teen and angst laden, whispering in my ears while I slip into dreamless sleeps and restless nights, “this is it.  You have dodged all the bullets you can.  It’s your time now.”

But what would become of SC?

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Responses

  1. I won’t think about what would happen with your son right now. It’s premature. I understand that you must, though; it’s only natural. I recommend that you fight nature for now.

    To put my high school in a nutshell, I’ll tell you that someone once referred to me as “The Ivory Girl.” (she was a bitch) It does, however, give you a snapshot. That said, I too, was obsessed with a thought that I would die at a young age. That’s why, when I was 28 and still kicking, I started a journal for my kids (who weren’t even conceived yet!) I wanted them to know everything about every thought I ever had about them, about life, about how much I loved them. CRazy, I know, but it is what it is, and now it’s 170 pages long in Word. Obviously, I’m 46 and still kicking. I think I’ll be here for a while. I think you will be, too. Keep writing (here, or privately). It will help.


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