18 months. Fuck that’s a long time. (My brain has engaged. And it’s been 7 months. What a fucking idiot. Glad I can still work out months and years!). So much has changed. So much is the same. I’m back in London. In the flat we moved to as a family. The flat I left with our child and dog. But coming back here was right. Even though another has been here. But this was never her home.
Cancer. Should probably mention that first. As that’s what this is meant to be about it. Well. Amazingly. I’m into my 5th year of being chemo free. 4 years and nearly 3 months of no chemo. And my latest result was a big drop compared to the one before. Which is epic. I’m on a very expensive supplement regime and I’m glad it’s helping!
I went to a Blood Cancer UK event a couple of weeks ago. And a friend was there with CML and they were tired. Needed to sit. And it threw me back to where I was for so many years. How restricted my life was. How I had to compromise every day on what I did because of my energy levels.
And now. Well I don’t have to think. I don’t have to wonder how I will feel tonight. If I can stand. If I can talk. If I have the energy. Because I do. Yes. I am tired. But it’s different. It’s being a single mother to a very full on 3 and a half year old. From recovering from my relationship and dealing with her father.
It’s hard.
There’s so much to say. So much I can’t. I wish I could. The truth. All of it. Out in here. My therapy. My process. And I can’t. And I struggle with that. It eats me up. I feel dishonest.
Ridiculous I know. Since leaving Twitter hardly anyone reads this. And that’s fine. I just want to be true. And I’m not. Because I can’t be.
I’ve joined a dating app. I thought it would be easier in my 40s. So many have children. So many don’t drink. So many have baggage.
And it’s still the same. Fucking horrific. Getting ghosted. I can’t be fucked with this. But I also don’t want to be on my own. I want a family. And now I don’t have a dog. Meeting new people is so hard.
I haven’t written about Luna. My beautiful Luna pup. We had to put her down in April. She was 2. I think she had cancer. They were hoping it was (treatable) bowel disease. It wasn’t. She just got worse and worse. She told me the day it was time to go. I sat with her on the floor at the vets. Stroked her head. Spoke to her as she went. Told her how wonderful she was. How beautiful. How loved.
And now I’m on my own. Truly on my own. And my heart breaks for me. For the next baby I so wanted. That as the days go on, drifts further away.
I’m very sad tonight. My miracle baby is with her father. In that house. And I have so many things to say that I can’t. I don’t want her there. And I just have watch from the sidelines.
So once again. Not very happy. There is happiness. So much joy. And a lot of processing.
And to honour Luna who I still miss so much. A photo of her with this post. And the hope I can get myself together again financially so I can afford to buy a new dog. I’m going to get another German Shepherd. So I just hope the universe does its thing.
