Monday, September 8, 2014

An ending

Hi friends. It's been a very long time since I've felt inspired to write. Much has transpired in the many months since my last post, but nothing stuck in my mind and heart like this has.

The BF and I were together for six years, though he had been in my life as a friend and support system even longer than that. In those years, we had some really, truly beautiful times. We talked about marriage and a family. We made plans and commitments. We lived and loved like crazy. Our relationship stuck it out through some heavy losses, the weight of which still bring me to my knees at times. He stood by my side during my diagnosis, and the terrible months that followed. When I couldn't bear to drag myself out of bed, he was there to lift me. He stuck it out for three long years, as my arthritis got worse and my ability to care for myself dwindled. Even though a deep depression, a multitude of medication changes, and a sorrow so massive I'm not sure how I survived it, the BF stuck with me.

But our relationship ended. It crumbled around the hefty roadblocks my disease imposed upon our life together. Even more than that, it started to decay as I withdrew into my own little world of treatments and side effects. I lost sight of us and, even more importantly, I lost sight of myself.

My world feels very empty as of late. I haven't been alone for one single moment since my diagnosis, and now I feel like I have nothing. My life has been so reduced to one single bedroom and one single disease, and I failed to look beyond my self-imposed blinders. I struggled to care for myself, support myself and feel positive even with the BF in the picture. Without his help, it feels impossible.

Life goes on, though. If anything, this is an emotionally exhausting, expensive lesson on how to treat the people in your life, and how to appreciate them. The last six years of my life have been a learning experience and a growing experience. I appreciate our time together, and carry with me into the future a collection of fond memories. This chapter of my life is over, so I write this post as an epilogue of sorts. Here's to my future.

1 comment:

  1. I am impressed with your courage. You have my thoughts and hopes that your future is as bright as you are. Don't be afraid to turn to your friends--old and new--for company, support, and whatever else you need. That's what friends are for, after all.