Over the last few days, well probably about a week now, I have been looking at myself as a person. After so much over the last 3 or 4 years of stuff happening (some of it positive and other things, well not so) and finally managing to get my head around it. I would have lied if I said that I had come to terms with things like my illnesses or the vast amount of change in my life. Heck, some of the things that have come to pass still make me wonder about them, but knowing that I did the best I could considering them is what keeps me strong. Even if I wonder how things could change so fast in the first place.
Last night I had been thinking about a lot of things but one thing came to mind. Those days before I turned my back and left my home town of Stafford for good. I remember them quite fondly and how I had decided that rather than riding my bike to and from work, I walked in the June sun. Visiting places where I had met and enjoyed pleasured moments with friends and family. Stopping for a while and just remembering those carefree Saturdays with my friends or those days before work when I would stop off and shop. I knew then that my time there was over and it was time to move on, even though I really felt that overwhelming sense of fear which comes to any 20 year old when they decide to move out and start a new chapter in their life.
I remember the first day I got my new home, hanging out with Daimon and Mike, but I had decided that for the first night I wanted to be by myself to adjust to my new lifestyle. My first home was a small flat in a shared house, up 2 flights of stairs (this is before my asthma became what it is now, but it still had days where I sounded like shit). It may have been small and pokey, but at the time is was exactly what I needed.
I think after my relationships with my past boyfriends had fallen to pieces, I think I just retreated in to myself a lot and just neglected to understand myself or how I really felt about things. What with my declining health and lack of motivation I was going through, I think I had given up on myself and ever finding someone who would love me for me and take my health as a part of that. I am painfully aware of it myself and I hate the fact that it effects the people around me in the way that it does. Be it from watching me having an attack and that fear that will the next one be my last? Watching as doctors take me away and work on saving my life as I lie weak and helpless and unaware of what has happened.
Sometimes I do wonder if this was exactly how I wished my life had turned out, I would be lying if I had said it was, but if I am really and truly honest about it, I am grateful that despite everything that has happened, I am still here and I am still alive. And I aim to stay that way for a long time. That was a promise I said to Patch as I held him that one last time. I promised my gentle giant that I would never ever forget him, what he taught me and I would never give up on myself again. I remind myself of the promise everytime I sit by the spot where he lies and I sit in the garden and talk to him.
Here is where I promise myself that I will never let go of hope.
3 years ago