I might cancel tomorrow’s appointment

I have a booked appointment tomorrow at a private hospital for my shoulder. I was told in advance that I can’t drive or lift any weights after this for a couple of days. It wasn’t a surprise appointment. The Husband knew about it and so did Tara. Yet just yesterday it seemed that my treatment got in the way of Tara’s life.

She mumbled yesterday, “If you WON'T take me to school what should I do? I’ll just walk.” This from a 16 year old girl who has firmly resisted doing anything around the house and who hasn’t even gone down to the local shops to buy a toothpick! Not for lack of effort on my part. I was determined that during the summer holidays I would like her to learn how to take the bus, go to the local shops and maybe start by tidying her room. Given the events of 2018,  I told The Husband to get it sorted . Nothing happened. 

So I told her that her father would sort it out as I would be resting after my shoulder procedure. She said she’d spoken to him and he said he couldn’t take her as he starts early. It’s as if I had the spotlight for a day, even if was in unpleasant circumstances, and these two can’t handle it.

I can’t deal with the drama so I will just cancel my appointment. The agony of my shoulder at least reminds me that I'm human. Otherwise the constant dehumanisation that Ive experienced in my life with people who are supposed to love me should have pushed me over the edge already. Yet here I am, typing away in my blog that no one sees. Why do I do it? I don’t know. Maybe I'm placing on record a first hand account of my life, that is not edited or controlled by others agenda or narrative. Maybe I need a place to disgorge my reality when what is presented outside to others has been hijacked by people cleverer than me who have solidly entrenched a completely false version of my life with such expertise, that even if I open my mouth to say something, I am shut down as a "neurotic, psychotic fantasist” (my sister’s words when I made a feeble attempt at reaching out to her) even before the words leave my lips.

I am played very well by very clever people. I am that person who gets regularly shot by others, with the bullet lodged firmly in my heart, yet somehow am always found with the gun in my hands and no clue how it got there as I bleed away. Duh !