I was okay with it when they told me that I needed the Ileostomy. My choice was Ileo, or die so of course I would choose the Ileo. I was even okay with it afterwards. No more pain, I wasn't tied to the toilet anymore, and I could actually eat food without being afraid of the aftermath.
I've travelled and enjoyed checking off locations on my bucketlist. But there's one thing on my list that I know is far beyond my reach.
I want to know what it feels like to be in love, and be loved. Sad really... I'm 51 and I will never feel that one thing that so many people take for granted. My therapist said that I should be happy because my children love me.....
She doesn't understand.....
Deep down, in the center of my soul, I yearn so badly for it.
I want. I need... I am almost desperate for it, but it will never be.
How sad am I? I know that I deserve it just like anyone else, but my parents didn't even love or want me. Funny. I find out on my 50th birthday why they hated me so. Why she would blame me for every wrong thing that happened in her life, why he would look at me with such hate and disgust. It wasn't my fault though. I didn't tell them to have unprotected sex. I didn't force them to get pregnant, I wasn't born as some plot to destroy her career and force them to be married in that era. But I bore the brunt of their anger until I ran as far as I could to save myself from the pain. My brothers weren't so lucky. One dead, one an alcoholic. I was the lucky one, I ran. Ran as far as I could.
But, I couldn't run far enough to get away from myself. I carried the pain with me. every harsh word, every violent beating and it affected every thing in my life after that. I was in a prison with no way to escape. I always chose wrong. My picker is obviously broken. I don't know how to choose a healthy relationship. Abuse is all I know. Now, I am too afraid to try again. I get physically ill , shivers, stomach aches, tears of fear if a man shows "THAT sort of interest in me.
You would never know of the terror I feel by looking at me though. I've gotten very good at covering it up, at faking it, at blending in. But inside all I can think about is getting away before He hurts me somehow.
How sad am I?
Be strong... Be strong.... Be strong.... Be strong.....
That's been my mantra for decades. Whatever life throws, I have no choice but to deal with it and keep pushing. But , I'm tired. The pain in my heart. It pounds so violently I feel it in my throat. I am going to choke on it.
Be strong... Be strong... Be strong... Be strong.....
But, I'm tired. Everywhere I look I am reminded of how much I fail at this, how much I want what I can't have. I survived, but for what?
Another dream fulfilled. I bought a farm. I've wanted land and a house and room for horses and a giant greenhouse for years and years. I have that now. Solitude and so much work to be done, but it's still there. That pain in my heart.
I have this ileostomy now. I named her Strawberry (smiles) My niece actually named her the first time she saw her. "Oh Auntie, it looks like a little strawberry." And she's right, my ileo is perfect. So small, round and red. Yes, she is perfect and after 15 years of pain, I love her, but if I can not get a decent man when I am whole, I have even less of a chance now that I have a swinging bag of feces hanging from my side.
I just want a way to finally be able to accept my lot in life....
Be strong... Be strong... Be strong....
I just have to accept that I must be strong and lean on no one but myself.
I've travelled and enjoyed checking off locations on my bucketlist. But there's one thing on my list that I know is far beyond my reach.
I want to know what it feels like to be in love, and be loved. Sad really... I'm 51 and I will never feel that one thing that so many people take for granted. My therapist said that I should be happy because my children love me.....
She doesn't understand.....
Deep down, in the center of my soul, I yearn so badly for it.
I want. I need... I am almost desperate for it, but it will never be.
How sad am I? I know that I deserve it just like anyone else, but my parents didn't even love or want me. Funny. I find out on my 50th birthday why they hated me so. Why she would blame me for every wrong thing that happened in her life, why he would look at me with such hate and disgust. It wasn't my fault though. I didn't tell them to have unprotected sex. I didn't force them to get pregnant, I wasn't born as some plot to destroy her career and force them to be married in that era. But I bore the brunt of their anger until I ran as far as I could to save myself from the pain. My brothers weren't so lucky. One dead, one an alcoholic. I was the lucky one, I ran. Ran as far as I could.
But, I couldn't run far enough to get away from myself. I carried the pain with me. every harsh word, every violent beating and it affected every thing in my life after that. I was in a prison with no way to escape. I always chose wrong. My picker is obviously broken. I don't know how to choose a healthy relationship. Abuse is all I know. Now, I am too afraid to try again. I get physically ill , shivers, stomach aches, tears of fear if a man shows "THAT sort of interest in me.
You would never know of the terror I feel by looking at me though. I've gotten very good at covering it up, at faking it, at blending in. But inside all I can think about is getting away before He hurts me somehow.
How sad am I?
Be strong... Be strong.... Be strong.... Be strong.....
That's been my mantra for decades. Whatever life throws, I have no choice but to deal with it and keep pushing. But , I'm tired. The pain in my heart. It pounds so violently I feel it in my throat. I am going to choke on it.
Be strong... Be strong... Be strong... Be strong.....
But, I'm tired. Everywhere I look I am reminded of how much I fail at this, how much I want what I can't have. I survived, but for what?
Another dream fulfilled. I bought a farm. I've wanted land and a house and room for horses and a giant greenhouse for years and years. I have that now. Solitude and so much work to be done, but it's still there. That pain in my heart.
I have this ileostomy now. I named her Strawberry (smiles) My niece actually named her the first time she saw her. "Oh Auntie, it looks like a little strawberry." And she's right, my ileo is perfect. So small, round and red. Yes, she is perfect and after 15 years of pain, I love her, but if I can not get a decent man when I am whole, I have even less of a chance now that I have a swinging bag of feces hanging from my side.
I just want a way to finally be able to accept my lot in life....
Be strong... Be strong... Be strong....
I just have to accept that I must be strong and lean on no one but myself.