One step…then another

I live my life on the edge of a knife. I live it second to second now – hanging onto life with my very fingernails, wondering if right now is going to be when the grief of being me kills me – or will I live another second?

I put one foot…in front of the other.

And stop.

And hurt.

Oh my GOD it hurts SO MUCH.

And breathe in and out.

And reassess – can I go on?

I have to try.

I HAVE to try.

And put one foot in front of the other.

And HURT. OMG it hurts so badly to live like this.

And repeat.

I texted Mom today. She rang right away. I couldn’t ignore the call because I’d just texted her.


I swiped across to answer her call with hands that were already shaking and sweating.

“Hi Mom”

“You don’t sound right”

Because I’m dying, Mom. I’m slowly withering away and it is the most painful, awful thing I have ever experienced.

“I don’t feel great” I say with a wry smile – hoping to ‘laugh it off’ so Mom can just hang up and not worry.

“I haven’t seen you in months” Mom says.

I don’t know. I don’t know why or what is going on with me – inside of me, but I couldn’t pretend anymore.

If it all goes to poo because I’m going to finally be honest, then I’m at the point where I don’t care.

I was in the middle of a shopping Centre when Mom called. I spotted a bench. I sat on it, leaned forward so I was hugging my knees, and I wailed.

Mom burst into tears.

“What’s happening? What’s going on? Janet? Janet? Are you there?”

I was crying so hard, I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t stop.

“I will come to you” Mom said “Are you home? I will get dressed and I will come”

And that my friends – is what I’ve wanted to hear all these 5 weeks.

“I’m not at home” I managed to get out. Words past my raw, aching throat.

“Where are you?” Mom asked. I could hear her moving around – maybe getting dressed? Getting her handbag? Closing the apartment so she could leave?

“I’m…in the city” I managed. The lump in my throat so huge it was hurting me to speak.

“I will come” Mom repeated.

That’s all I ever needed you to say, Mom. 
You have no idea.

But something in me – something that wants to destroy anything good in my life – the part of me that tries to break up with Alun and stubbornly wallow in sadness spoke up “I’m okay, Mom – you don’t need to see me right now. I’m okay”

I’m bloody not.

Stop talking, JD. For the love of God – stop it.

“You are? You’re alright? I don’t need to come?” wary Mom

“Yeah I’m fine…I’m just…I’m just so tired

of living. of dying. Of life. Of it all.

“Do you want to come here?” Mom offered

“I just want to go home” I said. That part was true. It was so true, my bones ached with the longing for home.

“Ok…but I need to see you for myself. Can you come to my house tomorrow?”

“I will”

“Ok I finish at lunch and will be home at 1pm”

“Ok Mom”

“So come and see me, ok?” Mom pleaded, I could hear her tears and they broke my heart

“Ok. 1pm. I will come then”

So I will keep putting one foot in front of the other…until then.

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