This morning, Facebook reminded me of a post I shared last year when my friend Kutloano came to visit me when I came home from hospital. It’s quite fitting then, that she also went back to the Pretoria Urology Centre with me last week for my check-ups. But the photo was just another tug at the thread that’s been threatening to unravel all the month of May.
Melancholic May and all that jazz
I’ve been feeling rather melancholic lately. You know I’m sad when I’m not reading. I have several beautiful books standing in a row waiting for me to love them, but my heart feels heavy and everything feels like it takes that much longer to do.
It might just be that it’s getting cold. Or that I miss Sean. I fucking miss him. I wish he would come home and make me tea and cuddle on the couch while pretending not to watch Gilmore Girls.
Last year, I had one of the worst years of my life and even more so because we were apart. And now we are apart again, and I’m starting to unravel. I struggle to have meaningful conversations, and even small talk seems a mammoth task when I feel the pressure of taking part in conversations at the gym or work.
Who is this person living in my body? It’s not me. I’m cheerful, confident, friendly, curious, inquisitive. But my shell is growing thicker like a blanket of fur weighing me deeper into the darkness.
Jirre, can you say mixed metaphors?
May is complicated, as I’ve said, because it’s also a time of triumph. I went for my health scans last week (I missed two days of boxing, which made me very sad) but I am healthy, yo. No residual tumours. My ovaries and kidneys are still clean, and none of the other organs have been affected.
I’m okay. breathe I’m okay.
Some thoughts on May
May is a month of excitement. Of book fairs and literary awards and parties and competitions.
May is the month of falling leaves. Of autumn shifting its weight and creaking towards winter.
May is a month of loneliness.
My friends are coming over for dinner tonight, and I’m so lucky to have them. Lucky for all the friends who brought me food I couldn’t eat and kept me company that one long week I stayed in hospital. Lucky for the nurses who bathed my broken body and soothed my bruised heart. Lucky for the people who want to be here. Lucky for the ones far away, who stayed in touch and kept me going with gifts and kind words.
Fuck this. I’m tired of being sad and cloistered and aching. I have a lot. I am a lot.
I’m going to go visit Sean’s Gran and Dick now. Maybe I’ll take them pie. Old people love pie.