So it really hits home how pathetic your life is when your little brother just buys a 2014 pretty much brand new car that costs over R100 000, after applying, and pretty much getting accepted straight away, to one of the most expensive advertising colleges (which he will also be paying for himself without even batting an eyelid) plus the fact that he hasn’t worked since he got home from the yachts but has gone out partying every night. Oh and of course let’s not forget helping my mum out by buying all his own stuff and contributing to electricity and such.
And here I sit at nearly 30. I still live at home and never have the money to contribute towards rent or electricity…which I should be doing. I work 3 jobs and am trying to save for university whilst draining my little bit of savings (which was supposed to be for uni) on more medical bills. Granted I did manage to pay for my two high school subjects, via correspondence college, that I need to get in to medicine in 2017. I do buy my own food and toiletries but last month I had so little money I couldn’t even do that because I had to pay so much for stupid doctors and my car needed a service. My savings is sitting at about R1200 and I have just over R2000 in my normal account and it’s only the 2nd of April. I owe my dad close on R1000 because I couldn’t afford the specialist fee or medication at the end of last month. He also bought me a new blender as my other one broke. It was under warranty and when I offered him the money I received when I took it back, he told me to keep it and use it where needed. And I was too weak to insist that he take it. It paid for petrol and some food though.
I feel like such an epic failure. I’m like this stupid child that just can’t get onto her own feet. My own little brother is more independent than me. I fucking hate being sick. I hate being stuck in bed. I hate not being strong enough emotionally or physically to work the ambitious jobs I want. Because I never know when I could crash. I never know when the pain might hit or when I won’t have enough energy to even get through the 4 hours of my afternoon job. My one job can be done whilst lying in bed and at times I’m so utterly drained that even that is a battle. I HATE IT! I like being on the go. I have so much ambition and love being busy and doing yoga and running multiple projects and learning…but as much as I was given this drive and passion I was then also cursed with this pathetic body.
I am struggling so much right now with all of this. I feel like such a disappointment to everyone. If it’s not physical illness then it’s also eating disorders or mood issues…granted these emotional issues are often sprung from the physical. I’m one of those people who feels useless if I am not doing a million things at once. I struggle to sit still and I battle the worst guilt in the world for all of this. I have been feeling suicidal again lately. The only time I wanted to act on anything though was when my brother told me I was making up my illness/it isn’t that bad and I am using it to get attention and manipulate people. That was a few weeks ago. And I have never hated anyone more in my entire life as I did in that moment. It’s so easy for him. Everything falls into his lap. Sure he works hard but he never has to struggle for anything. Anyway, that night I wanted to cut more than I have since my coke addicted ex and all that drama in 2012. I was also incredibly tempted to down a bunch of pills again. Instead I clawed at the skin on the top of my arms until it was raw and red and ugly. Then I went to sleep.
Why did I choose this life? I don’t understand. It’s been nothing but drama and struggle since the day I was born. I affect everyone around me and make their lives complicated and sometimes down right miserable. And for what? I don’t feel like there have been any great lessons that have changed anything for the better. How have I enriched life?? I want to be the real me. The happy-go-lucky, bubble blowing, laughing, energetic and ambitious me. And instead I am sick. And it makes me miserable and bored and angry. SO angry. and so depressed..because anger is depression turned inwards.
I don’t want this life any more. I don’t want to put everyone I love through all of this. I don’t want to be nasty to them or snap at them any more. I don’t want to have days where I am so sick or so tired that I can’t wash dishes or give my boyfriend the back massage I promised him (I finally did last night after daaays). I don’t want to be seen as lazy or the problem child or the ‘sick one’. I don’t want pity but I hate being told to pull it all together (which I really should learn to do sometimes).
I want to be normal. I want a normal life with a normal job and normal emotions and a normal body. I want to go on normal holidays and travel and only go to the doctor when I have a bad flu that OTC meds aren’t helping. I want to smile and laugh without it covering a plethora of pain most of the time. I want to only worry about stupid things not about whether or not I will ever have my own children or if this nerve damage will progress so that I can’t walk one day or if the pain in my lower back means I have endometriosis on my spine, or how I will pay off the hundreds of medical bills I know are coming my way with the op I have in September. Or if my boyfriend will leave me because he is fed up of a miserable, sickly cow. Or because he wants children I cannot provide. Or even because he would like a girlfriend he can have sex with. Or if my mum will eventually get fed up and tell me to move out already.
When I was younger I always fought mainstream and hated ‘normal’, but as you get older and realise that ‘normal’ will never be an option…it’s the only option you long for. And it gets harder and harder to watch those around you continue with ‘normal’ lives without wishing, somehow, that you’d never been born.