I’m with Dollydinkum. I hate New Year and life spring, a time of nature waking up. Crocus’, daffodils, primroses etc, starting and finally flowering.
I seem to have lost so many friends and relatives like many of you, because of the world in which I circulate. I’ve reasoned of course, that there are bound to be more deaths than weddings; as it takes two to marry and one to die... But I’m relatively young compared to those who’ve mentioned their ages.
For me, I have an incurable neurological disease and even though my husband is quite a bit older than me, it’s highly probable that I’ll go before him.
But it also marks that time of year when I almost for want of trying to describe it, do a ‘body audit’, of things I could do last year and can’t this. The biggest is accepting that I need a wheelchair. I loathe the damn thing. I hate having someone pushing me. I hate sitting in it, especially with peoples expressions of sorrow, pity, assumptions and the more difficult human traits of patronisation, condescending, talking over me to my husband (especially in hospitals), etc. I know my walking has deteriorated significantly, my spasms have become worse and more frequent, my balance has deteriorated, my memory has worsened, the neurological pain has definitely increased, and so the list goes on.
Plus I’ve been diss gnoses with other conditions too.
So I absolutely loathe this time of year, but I look forward to spring. A time hopefully of blue skies, spring flowers, bird nest building, ducklings, leaves on trees unfurling, my garden awakening, (but the sadness that it used to be my favourite hobby, but now I really physically struggle now) and most of all, a temperature in which my neurological pain is at its least painful as the cold deadens my hands and feet, unlike summer or even winter. That has a knock on effect in that I feel a bit better physically.
But then my marriage is seriously dire. I’ve been told by the authorities that I’m classified as an adult at high risk because my marriage is abusive. He won’t come anywhere near me and looks at my body with barely hidden disgust. I bore him as I can’t keep up with him. So many days I wake up and there’s a sticker on my bed handle, telling me he’s gone out and he’ll be back mid afternoon. Most of the day has gone by then and I’m really waning by then, so he never sees me at my best. I wonder, and I’ve asked and it’s been denied, as to whether he’s having an affair. I yearn to be simply hugged, if nothing else. Or even touched affectionately. As for anything else, no, he won’t come near me. He prefers to sleep in the spare room. So I feel very alone.
My parents have also finally disowned me too. It’s been in the offing literally since before I was born. But now I’m considered an embarrassment. A burden. I saw them once last year, even then it was a family funeral, so inevitable. DM has said that I should commit suicide, like someone else we knew with the same condition, so that I should “not burden to anyone”. To “allow my husband a life”. Even to the extent that DM has made sure that I “know how to do it properly” and to “not b.... that one up!” She went into great detail as to how to do that one...
So what have I got to look forward to in 2020, I ask myself. I don't know is the truth. A hug would be nice. Is that a lot to ask?
? maybe nostalgia isn’t all bad 