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Where is this taking me?
Once upon a time I was a strong, independent and confident woman, but all that came to an end on November 12th 2012. My sister told me I was a gibbering wreck right up till Christmas...I think she may have mentioned “incoherent” too... For several weeks I still had that strength and even had some positive moments, where I fostered the ridiculous notions that a) I would win, and b) that I could continue a “normal” life whilst waiting for the process to end.
Somewhere between then and now I developed into this – and this is how I see myself. Think of an old hazelnut. My skin is my hard outer shell which is uniformly about half an inch thick. Inside is hollow and I am shrivelled. In the cavity formed by my hip bones is the tiny dried up, lifeless, wrinkled kernel of emotions and love of life I used to have, hanging suspended in the void. There is nothing else there. In the space where my lungs used to be, is a pressure cooker – its spout issuing forth high pressure steam – on the point of being no longer containable and bursting, erupting out of my chest. There is nothing else there either.
I call my body and my one remaining feeling “My Dead Pressure Cooker.” I have changed into this – a walking shell that looks just the same on the outside, that automatically gets up in the mornings and walks the dogs and goes to work and talks to people and then comes home and lights the fire and feeds the fish and walks the dogs and goes to bed....
...and what will happen when the pressure cooker bursts.....?
Once upon a time I was a strong, independent and confident woman, but all that came to an end on November 12th 2012. My sister told me I was a gibbering wreck right up till Christmas...I think she may have mentioned “incoherent” too... For several weeks I still had that strength and even had some positive moments, where I fostered the ridiculous notions that a) I would win, and b) that I could continue a “normal” life whilst waiting for the process to end.
Somewhere between then and now I developed into this – and this is how I see myself. Think of an old hazelnut. My skin is my hard outer shell which is uniformly about half an inch thick. Inside is hollow and I am shrivelled. In the cavity formed by my hip bones is the tiny dried up, lifeless, wrinkled kernel of emotions and love of life I used to have, hanging suspended in the void. There is nothing else there. In the space where my lungs used to be, is a pressure cooker – its spout issuing forth high pressure steam – on the point of being no longer containable and bursting, erupting out of my chest. There is nothing else there either.
I call my body and my one remaining feeling “My Dead Pressure Cooker.” I have changed into this – a walking shell that looks just the same on the outside, that automatically gets up in the mornings and walks the dogs and goes to work and talks to people and then comes home and lights the fire and feeds the fish and walks the dogs and goes to bed....
...and what will happen when the pressure cooker bursts.....?
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