Friday 4 June 2010

No show for Glasto...?

I'm not ready.

It's a simple, short, painful sentence. It's painful for me because I know, no matter how hard I try to convince myself that it's not as difficult or challenging or even emotionally demanding as I know it is, that it IS all of those things, and more.

I try to not pity myself, because when I see it in others' characters, I pity them, sometimes feeling unreasonable contempt for them and their ways of always seeming to be a victim. Poor them. Aw. Diddums. Et cetera.

But there are times when situations, circumstances, our health (or lack thereof) prevents one from working, or driving, or going to a festival one has dreamed of, literally, for years. I know, too well, that I am not emotionally or physically capable of going to Glastonbury this year, in a mere three weeks from me typing this blog entry. I have tried to convince myself that I could do it. Perhaps I could. For a few hours. But for me to be there for three days, not sleeping well, being among thousands of people, not eating properly, meeting new people and seeing and hearing things I may never hear or see again is, even more my imagination, a RIDICULOUS notion.

And that hurts me so much I can't even put it in to words. I've bought walking boots (very sturdy, very comfy and they look good, too!), a sleeping bag, an air-bed, very short bungee ropes to secure stuff, ear plugs, a new waterproof jacket, a folding mat on which to park my bum, train tickets and, of COURSE, my Glastonbury ticket. It's beautiful, with the exception of my face on it. It's so colourful, and with its shiny numbers, it's like a piece of magical twinkling Art, ready to take me in to the world of AMAZING, for memories to be formed and friendships to be made.

But I don't think it will happen. For as long as I car to remember, I have been shy, not confident, worried what others might think of me. What if they know I'm rubbish at talking to new people when I'm feeling generally bad? Isn't everyone like that, though? Doesn't everyone have times like that? Probably.

This Glastonbury, I will not have a wretched period and all its Satanistic agonies with which to contend, on account of my oestrogen-suppressing injection to help relieve me of my endometriosis symptoms. I can not guarantee I will be well for next year's festival. When I was awake early that cold October Sunday morning last year, I assumed and hoped (as always I do) that I will have made sufficient personal progress in order to "live the dream".

I haven't. And, this is not pity, but fact - I can not control my body nor can I say when I will have a period. Plans are scuppered because periods happen whenever. Not outlandish plans, either: to go to see the ducks at a local pond, or visit a museum not six miles away are simple, easy, enjoyable activities but so often, I end up not doing what I want to do. I don't want much. I'm not spoiled. I don't want a flash car, nor a grand house, nor a three week holiday in Marbella.

I want to not be controlled by my body.

I want to not hurt all the time, in some way or other.

I am so tired of being here, like this, feeling so tired, being so tearful about my ovaries and their hormonal attitude, buggering up so many days out, or walks through the countryside.

I am so tired of being humiliated by my lack of self-belief, because of depression caused by a malfunctioning womb and accompanying ovaries.

But "little steps" and "making progress gradually" haven't worked. Look at me. Tears are falling from my eyes because I feel stupid, like a failure after thinking I could do it and be "grown up" and do what other people do, every day, in every city, in every country in the whole world. But what if I can't do that? What does that make me? I see people doing jobs, driving, dancing in fields to music or no music, having the TIME of their LIVES and I want to be there, watching Rolf, Stevie Wonder, Billy Bragg and Cherry Ghost and, yet... I'm so frightened.

I just don't know what to do. Hysterectomy, maybe.

(Here endeth the self-absorbed crap.)


  1. Don't ever feel like a failure - you're anything but. You are, quite seriously, one of the most impressive people I've ever come across, for your charm, your determination, your attitude in the face of the amount of crap that life throws at you.
    Is there any way you could go to Glasto for just the one day, say? Then if you ARE feeling ropey, come home in the evening. If, however, your luck holds, you could maybe stay just one night?
    Whatever you decide, it'll be right for you. I wish I could come give you a big old wombat hug right now, and cheer you up with a silly dance.

  2. oh honey - this is controllig your life, I wish i could take some away from you. I remember going to a festival and having to spend most of it in the tent. But being there was an achievement in itself - only you know what is the right decision. today is my hysterversary. Contemplaing a hysterectomy is a massive step - for me it has given me a quality of life that illuded me before. am here to chat if you want to Liz


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