I Feel Like No One Understands How Deeply I Am Hurting
You know what? Once upon a time, a very long time ago, I dreamed of being so happy! I dreamed the world would sort itself out, that logic would prevail, that right and wrong would be easy to tease apart and love would shine through. And I thought I was nearly there with all that. This year has been a rollercoaster, with the world in turmoil around me, suddenly my world is crazy too! I want you to know, I don't think I'm a bad person. I try so so hard to please everyone I meet. I'm a medical man, I love my patients. I love my colleagues. I fight tirelessly for the Union, for the staff, for my colleagues and friends. I volunteer every hour I have to make sure everyone is happy, and not for praise or thanks. Just because it makes sense to me to fight the fight and stand up for what you believe in. But my personal life is somewhere between a car crash and an airline disaster! I blame my own incompetence, fair and square. Noone else to blame but me. I was stupid enough, a year ago, to hear my mother's plea of "please J, when are you going to get married?!" (to my long-term girlfriend - with whom there were cracks). My response? "Between now and 30 years time, mother!" (met with upset). Screenchange: Family wedding. Asked by everyone in the room the very same question. I couldn't do it. I proposed. I don't know why. I thought it would fix everything! It did for a bit of time. But the old doubts crept in. Lovely girl, E, truly solid as a rock, loyal, faithful, truthful, honourable. But doubts is doubts. I figured it was just jitters. But I was broken, breaking, tearing inside. It didn't take much, a wonderful, exciting, beautiful, funny, clever, bright young thing, S, to wake up my love of life. That clichée of birds singing, bees buzzing, flowers blooming, the brightest skies and the clearest stars. Remembering what it was like to love, to laugh, to feel, to breathe, to enjoy. And yes, I deviated from the acceptable norms, I did bad. I allowed myself solace, joy, pleasure. We shared it. But it was meant to be brief, a solution, a stopover. E and I nearly fell apart over it. It all came out in the wash before our big day, but perhaps stupidly we made up, my parents advice of "you can always undo things in future" biased by a deliberate lack of information given to them (denial is a wonderful thing). And then there we were, rings worn proudly. And my gut instinct once again telling me no. Get out. While you can. There's time, there's forgiveness, there's a means to make things right. Then the bombshell. Contraception doesn't work all the time, apparently. I treasure new life over just about everything. Heck, it's my job! My happiness pales into insignificance when a baby and its mother are in the picture. I WILL not see E or baby hurt. I must provide a secure income, a roof, food on the table, warmth and shelter. Two trimesters in, one to go, and where am I? On the cusp of an enormous milestone, and not just wishing it was different, but screwing up S's life too. I watched The Terminal tonight (with Tom Hanks) and cried when he was rejected by the girl he fancied because she decided to get back with her lover who was having an affair with her. F'ing idiot, I thought. But I empathised with her, with him. E wondered what on earth in that film had made me, I like to think of myself as not a cryer, well up. She knows, I know she knows. But we're holding onto some crazy hope that one day it'll all go away. What do I dearly want? To hurt nobody. What do I see happening? Losing S, the most important person I have ever met, because I can't leave. I probably should, shouldn't I? I deserve to lose S. I deserve to lose E and baby, too, of course. Heck I don't deserve a bloody job!