This morning I am encompassed by two different feelings. One, that I need to take better care of myself and two, that I am alone. I don't mean either of them in a melancholic fashion. I'm not lonely. I'm alone. There is a difference. I'm not complaining, I'm just stating what is my reality (as of now, as of today).
These feelings had surfaced a few months before as well, but obviously I'd chosen to ignore them. Which is probably why I'm being made to realize them again today. I hobbled in painfully from my morning walk and almost cried for the pain of it. I've gone and done something to one of my legs and it's actually been quite painful. I still have to walk my dogs though and do my things. I don't have the luxury of saying 'I think I'll just stay in bed and not move'. And I don't have anyone else who can come and take care of them so that I may actually stay in and not move. I'm not writing this stuff out to garner sympathy or pity, both of which people can keep to themselves, however this is what I've had to face time and again and it's made me realize (sometimes after going through hurt and anger) that I do stand alone. Earlier this year, I almost blacked out in my apartment. It was a surreal experience and I could feel myself about to lose consciousness or whatever was happening. The room actually spun and I tried not to panic because at that point it was just Jackie and me. I made it to my bed and literally fell in to it only to wake up an hour or so later feeling extremely nauseous. I didn't tell my parents because I say I didn't want to worry them, but really I didn't want to deal with what would be an argument later on. I still had to get up off that bed and walk my dog, feed myself, and make myself better. Out of the couple of people who knew then what had happened, only one expressed shock and came rushing over to see if she could help. And while I was thankful and surprised by it, I was hurt by the lack of support from someone who "should've" been there, but wasn't.
I came out of the marriage too independent. I'm not saying I didn't have expectations of others, but to actually let them help me out in some way or the other was something I didn't know how to do. (JB, if you're reading this you might know what I'm talking about). I had to learn to do things on my own. It was actually quite sad at the time, but now I've turned it around to realizing that I am stronger than I thought I was and that I can actually do a lot more than I gave myself credit for. This is my reality. And today I'm ok with it. The motivation that keeps me going to better myself and now actually take care of myself is of course the two beings I live with because they are my responsibility. Nothing stops me from doing what needs to be done for them and like I told someone the other day, "unless I'm truly incapacitated, I'm not giving them up so please stop insulting me". The other factor that keeps me going is this feeling of I've been given a second chance of living my life for myself. A good friend has always been after me to do what I like doing, for myself. She's been the only one who has pointed out for many years and has been on my case to stop taking care of others all the time and putting my own interests on the back burner. Granted, that was a different me. However, with time and experience I've learned to actually say no to certain people and certain things and to find a balance between wanting to take care of others and taking care of myself. Some days this works in perfect symmetry, other days - not so much.
The point of all this is since the thought of 'if anything happened to me in this apartment, who would actually know?' came about I've been trying to take better care of myself. It's easier said than done, but I'm making a conscious and concentrated effort. They say no man is an island and most people want to share their lives with others. But what do you do until then? Like Godsmack sang, angrily, "...stand alone".