Lies, Too Many of Them

Those eyes are mine and they know the lie I have been telling.  The mirror isn’t really necessary when every day is just a continuation of what lays just beyond the reach of just about every person I know.  It’s so easy to keep saying the words, letting people think one thing when the reality is something very different.  Can I justify it?  Only to myself and lately my brain has been insuring that I don’t eat or sleep much because of it.

I can say that everyone tells the same basic untruth, letting people think that everything is alright when all signs point towards quite the opposite being true.  The number of times I tell people that “I’m okay”, it’s too large a collection.

If I’m lying to those around me, why admit it?  Much less in the form of a blog that anyone with internet can potentially see.  Because I know what happened the last time I just sat around and pretended I could handle things.

Votrient – a lovely drug meant to help me maintain a balance between being mostly healthy and getting very sick again.  When I was trying to hold it together after my daughter died, ignoring my pain and following the same lie my ex needed, that the world was fine; I couldn’t sleep and didn’t eat.  It means the medication wasn’t going to help and I knew it.  Slower than I knew, but worse than I expected it sent me directly to the hospital too many times last fall.  Welcome back cancer, you dumb companion.

That anger, pain, grief, all of it was pushed so far deep that it started to kill me.  And I was okay with that.  I’m still okay with that.  Going to doctor’s and yet not caring about the result.  Still not really caring about the result.

So I kept lying to everyone around me.  “I can handle this.”  “Don’t worry, if I need something I’ll ask.”  And my favorite, “Things are fine.  But thank you for asking.”  Slogans that sit on t-shirts, lies flowing so easily off my tongue that I’m angry with myself.

Last year I let too many other people dictate how I should deal with things.  I knew I shouldn’t do certain things, they made me unhappy, angry, sad, and resentful all at the same time.  Those feelings are back and stronger than ever.  I want to do something, yet I know I need to do nothing.

So the lies continue.  I upset that I wonder endlessly how things might have gone if I had gotten sick and my daughter was still around.  Scaring the hell out of a small child isn’t the plan, but what would the world have been like.  I can’t change the laws of nature, the rules of the universe when it comes to death.  That’s selfish, self-serving, and impossible.

I wish some times that I was a different person and able to let people in.  I closed off before I saw the door shut and lock itself.  Being scared to see another person leave means I continue to tell people I can handle this, that things are fine.  All lies.

That promise to my daughter about being better than I was has fallen aside since I realize at this point I’m can be.  I have lost my way and can’t see because I no longer even open my eyes.

Right now I hate myself.  And the only thing I truly want, know I need, is something I refuse myself.  A day without the lies.


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