Friday, March 9, 2012

Do you ever think someone else has your life?

In high school I had a special someone tell me in a thick Afrikans accent "Jealousy makes you naaaahsty!". You know it was said in a real lyrical way. Without batting an eyelash back in his direction and skipping a beat my biting tongue retorted, "Kisss my bloody assssssy!". I slung it back in real me fashion. Hell that was about 15 years ago. And guess what? I, like others, admit jealousy is a natural human component and I try my best (somedays) to not let it show.

However, when you are stuck in bed on heavy heavy doses of medications for a disease you can't help but lying there and thinking about how this wasn't supposed to be your life. I was the spunky wild card. I would dye my hair all colors of the rainbow, wear fishnets, wear all black and shit kicker combat boots. I was artistic in every sense from fashion, to thinking, to living. I left that world behind me but I often wonder what it would be like today if I was still like that.

That leads me to someone I never met. I left a pretty decent life a few years back and moved to somewhere new. It was supposed to be a new beginning. The night of my going away party at my favorite bar/club I saw this younger version of me that night in a stranger. I did not give it much thought because I was leaving the next day. Well, I think this stranger has the life I was supposed to have in my old town and stomping grounds. It turns out this lady shares some of the same friends as me, has a dream job I wanted before I left, has this fun looking house, an artistic fiance who went to Harvard for film school...the gagfest list is extensive. Wherever I turn, it's like 6 degrees of separation to this stranger. I then dug a little bit on my deathbed and just thought to myself, "this girl has the life I envisioned for myself". She is what I am supposed to be. How did that happen? 

My fiance often reminds me that other people are jealous of me. He listed jealous of my intelligence, my Master's degrees, my loving fiance...maybe that is true but it's hard to think that way.

I just simply did not envision the present day me in the past. I can't even travel the way I once did because of my disability and the constant doctor appointments and infusion schedules. Plus, it simply boils down to the fact that my medication unfortunately takes my life away on a daily basis. 

No one ever talks about this shit about chronic disease at the doctor's in the infusion rooms, the stupid group support meetings. Why? I'm jealous of a stranger and healthy people. There, I said it and I ain't taking it back. I say what I mean and mean what I say. The present day me is not what the past me envisioned. It's quite that simple really.

I forgot to post yesterday's daily photo challenge. Day 8 was Sequence. These verbs are kicking my ass. I wasn't feeling yesterday's challenge much. I took a shot in an elevator. I feel like I am often stuck in an elevator only going up and down. It's a grainy shot because I was feeling shoddy. 

Today's challenge was more interesting. Today's (Day 9) challenge was force.

An old friend gave me a compliment today. He said, "you really are talented. Art truly runs through you.". That meant a lot to me. Ask me? I have no clue quite frankly.

Yes, this post had me starting singing "It's My Life".....but is it really my life?


  1. Yup, so true. I try not to go there as it just puts me i a funk. I saw on tv yesterday that some business has built this room where you can pay to break things to release one's anger. How cool I thought. Then it hit me that if I ever used a bat like that, i would wind up with no joints left at all. Yup, it stinks! I find that changing my thoughts when I start to wander down those roads helps me alot. Avoidance? Perhaps. But we gotta do what we gotta do.

  2. Hi Deb,

    Funny you mention about smashing things as a stress reliever. In my early 20's before I actually got a diagnosis of Rheumatoid Arthritis, my father sent me to Wichita Kansas to a holistic hospital. As part of my stay there, there was this out door smashing range where there were a pile of clay pigeons (the ones used for shooting) and you could throw them as hard as you could as you screamed what you were upset about. I have to say that was liberating, yet I'm with you. I don't think my joints could handle that anymore either. I have to protect what I have ahah. Thanks for your thoughts on the subject.