post 25 : all of the self hate

She was at the petrol station filling up on her way home from her nine to five that she hated almost as much as she hated the one and a half hour drive to and from. She blurred her eyes until they were relaxed and stared at the highway to her right. She silently wished she could remove all the cars, clear the highway and use it to drive far, far away. She’d spent the good part of the past six years attempting to make her failing body function normally, and she was exhausted.

For as long as she could remember she’d struggled with sport. She was always the first one eliminated in beep tests at school, she got chosen last in physical education class teams by over-enthusiastic jocks with egos as large as they thought their footy careers might be. She ran out of breath quickly and it had escalated recently to a point of collapsing to the ground after walking up a flight of stairs, desperate for air. Her legs would give out, too. That part had started at 17; she’d woken up one morning to a pain she assumed was equivalent to a hammer crashing down hard against her knee. Crying out, she’d reached under the blankets to discover that it was twice the size it was when she’d fallen asleep, swollen with fluid. On attempting to get out of bed, she stood for the briefest of moments before falling to the floor. Previously flexible, she could no longer touch her knees.    

It had turned out to be Glandular Fever; something she thought would have been out of her system 3 years ago, mixed with the Ross River Fever that she’d evidently acquired on her recent family holiday to the beautiful but mosquito ridden Atherton Tablelands. Some of the pain was the temporary arthritis that came as a result. As if these conditions weren’t enough, she had constant strep throat and her tonsils were removed as a result. Her ear, nose and throat doctor hadn’t believe her when she’d called to say that she had a tonsil growing in the spot from where he’d just removed one. Apparently, in his 15 years in the profession, he’d not once seen a lingual tonsil, the one that sits under your tongue, grow up and out to replace the one that had just been removed. She thought of it more as a mildly-comical story to tell family members at barbeques, rather than the potential for her 4^th operation. The new tonsil, connected to the back of her tongue now prevented her from poking her tongue out very far at all. Just another thing, she thought.

Never having fully recovered from Glandular Fever and with the Ross River still in her system three years later, she’d developed a syndrome called Fibromyalgia, the result of a fucked up immune system. The day she found out she’d gone home and Googled it. Fibromyalgia Syndrome: a medical disorder characterised by chronic widespread pain and a heightened and painful response to pressure. Well, that explained things. She burst into tears.

The other two operations consisted of removing an appendix that was perfectly healthy, only to discover Endometriosis, which was later removed too. Her body had gone through some stuff, and it was weak; something she’d always preferred to a weak mind. Now, at 20, she had all the answers she’d spent six years seeking. Fibromyalgia was a highly debated and somewhat controversial condition as to whether it was permanent or “curable”. Naturopaths were of the opinion that, with enough herbs, vitamins and sugar-free, gluten-free, lactose-free, taste-free super foods, you could get better. Doctors didn’t bother to look into it, with only 2-4% of the population knowingly suffering from the condition that no medicine could help, it seemed to be beyond their level of expertise, or maybe they just couldn’t be bothered.

As a result, she was left basically to her own devices, opting to take the advice of the naturopaths and downing 20 or more tablets a day; Fish Oil for circulation, Zinc to stimulate to help maintain a healthy immune system, CO Q10 for energy, Vitamin C as an antioxidant and to protect against further immune system deficiencies, Vitamin D to maintain calcium balance and boost immunity, Vitamin B for energy production, Iron because she was anaemic, and also to help carry oxygen from the lungs to the muscles and other organs, Liver Tonic to reduce the damage months of antibiotics had caused, Green Tea, because she wanted the benefits without the taste, Magnesium for a calming effect as well as to keep muscle and nerve functioning normal.

She also blocked her nose, closed her eyes and downed 20ml of potent herbs two times every day. She hated it. She hated her body and how it was consuming her life. She hated having to sleep as soon as she got home because she was too exhausted to stand. She hated using the sick bed at her work each lunch to sneak in a quick half hour power nap that never really assisted in supplying energy, anyway. She hated alienating herself because she was too tired, and because no one understood. She hated resenting people because they didn’t understand. She hated putting her life on hold because she could not even remember to put her washing on the line, let alone complete a law degree.

She was so angry and lost in thought that she didn’t notice him come over and lean on her car. He looked at her carefully and with attention, taking her in. It had been 14 months since Ryan had seen her, and he missed her so much it actually hurt him.  

“You’ve lost weight” he told her, snapping her from her daydream and into a much happier reality than the one she’d left.

“Ryan!” She almost screamed, throwing her arms around his neck and squeezing a little too tight. She pulled back and searched his face, making sure he was the same, that a year in London Town hadn’t changed him. She grabbed him again and held on. He had changed, although he smelt the same. A smell that would make her catch her breath and inhale deeply each time she passed someone wearing the same cologne when he was gone. He laughed and grabbed her arms, pulling her back to examine her face more closely. Seemingly satisfied with what he saw, he kissed her on the cheek.

He’d let his blonde hair grow out to the point of looking shaggy, and covering his jaw was a 5 day growth that she’d never seen him sport. She liked his new look, and liked even more that he looked happy; satisfied with life, perhaps. Formally skinny, he was now built. She scanned his arms, following the ripples in his skin to his chest. His shirt stretched over him like a glove, and the only thought she could conjure up was to get it off him, to explore the new him like she’d done the old.

“Hi.” She grinned at him and giggled.

*******

She found herself an hour later in her favourite coffee shop in the city; a quaint little place with not one matching seat and couches so big they almost swallowed you whole. He’d remembered her favourite coffee and ordered without asking her what she wanted. She smiled at the familiarity.

“You’re skinny”. He repeated his earlier thoughts.

“I’m getting better”, she assured him. He didn’t like it when she was skinny. Not only because he loved her curves, but also because he wanted her to be better almost as much as she did. The truth was that she had lost another 4kgs recently, and was not a lot better than when he’d left. She’d been told by her doctor not only to put on weight so she could get back into the healthy weight range for her height, but to eat more salt as her blood sugar was low. She thought it contradicted the dietary requirements the naturopath suggested, but agreed; not wanting to complain about a task that would probably not be asked of her again in a lifetime. As though reading her thoughts, Ryan ushered the waiter to their table and ordered them raspberry cheesecake to share; her favourite.

“So, tell me about London”. She told him, in a hope that it would distract from conversation about herself and also, because she was curious.

“What do you want to know?”

“I want to know how you survived 12 months with your sister, how your teaching job went, where you travelled, which country was your favourite, if you loved the snow as much as I think you might have, if you wish you were still there, if you preferred a white Christmas to one in your pool under the hot Australian summer sun.”

“Nothing could compare to that Christmas.” He told her, turning serious. “Nothing.” He meant it, and she knew it. It was the summer of 2004, and they had been inseparable. They had been together for five months, and it was still new and fresh; the honeymoon phase seemed intent on following them around. They’d spend days lounging by the pool. He’d loved the way her freckles came out in the sun. She’d loved him. Simply.  

Things were easy, then. He’d planned on going to London for a year to use the degree in teaching he’d just completed, to earn money and to travel Europe. She’d wanted to go, but hadn’t wanted to ask. He’d wanted her to go, but hadn’t wanted to ask. The year passed by quicker than expected and she found herself at the end of it unwillingly speaking the words “I think we need break up; you’re leaving in a month”. It was the best relationship she’d had, but she hadn’t missed him when he was gone. She hadn’t regretted the decision to break it off. She didn’t feel very much at all. She’d moved on quickly, of course. He didn’t have a girlfriend for the whole year he was away. He hadn’t even considered it. She caused more damage than she knew, and at that moment, in the little intimate cafe sitting across from her, he was silently hoping that she wouldn’t cause the same damage again. He was a fool for even thinking it; he knew he would let her, given the opportunity.

*******

They picked up exactly where they left off, as though they were never apart. The friends they had together he had kept over the year and two of the couples were now married, one had a baby on the way. They were growing up; the typical office job, married, babies, divorce to follow in an unhappy life that she dreaded having herself. She didn’t see it though, while she was in it, and continued to make plans with Ryan about where they would live; close to his job at the school, as well as close to potential schools for their future children, and close to both of their families and mutual friends. They made decisions about what furniture to buy, how much to spend on a washing machine and if it should be a top or front loader, how much they would pay off his car loan before attempting to get a house loan, right down to the cutlery and crockery they would use and if it was going to break when they had kids.

Ryan had money in a high interest savings account that he received as an inheritance when his grandfather passed away, and he planned on using it for the deposit on their house. In return, as it was all she could contribute, she helped him pay off his car with the money she would normally have been saving. She already owned her car outright, and offered to sell it in order to pay his off. Everything about them worked. It was easy. They sacrificed for each other. They loved each other. They would have made the perfect happy family.

*******

She woke up one not-so-special day and realised that she didn’t want it. She didn’t want any of it. She wanted to do a law degree and study for a year in London or New York. She wanted to travel to every continent and live in the countries she liked the most. She wanted to get tattoos and pierce her lip. She wanted to jump from planes and build a tree house. She wanted to be free.

Then there was the quite important point of her not wanting children. She wanted to be a lawyer. How could she possibly work 80 hour weeks and manage to have a family too? She hated those parents who neglected their children to the point of them turning into delinquents.

It was over; it had to be. She knew what she wanted, but more so what she didn’t. She didn’t want to play happy families when she wouldn’t have been happy at all. There was no way she could deny Ryan children; he had to be a father. He could do without her. Without a second thought, she called him and arranged to meet him at the coffee shop where they were brought back together only six months prior.

It was the worst thing she had ever done; building someone’s hopes up to the point of creating a future, a life together, and then taking it all away, and she felt terrible. She hate that she was hurting him again, she hate that she didn’t realise earlier what she wanted and for taking things so far before bailing. She hated herself. But better to hate yourself than fake it.