The Darker side of me…
I never knew I had a dark side, not really. I do remember having these small snarky feelings when I was a child, towards the latest person to tick me off or stand me in the corner.
I am a good-natured person, I have found that life is usually better that way. So these elusive thoughts and feelings I have been having lately haven’t worried me unduly.
This year, I have been learning a lot about the real me. Stuff that could drop me in the brown stuff if I ever acted on them. Secret thoughts and emotions that have been busy growing into unmanageable beasts.
How I think it all began…
In March of this year, I suddenly became very weak and developed paralysis in my legs. I have always been relatively fit, six feet tall, and as strong as an ox, so finding myself helpless, reliant on other people’s assistance for everything was a huge learning curve for me.
Patience is my middle name, so I have managed to cope with my new status. The weeks went by with no help or answers, but despite everything, I managed to keep my cool when l felt that I might as well be dead.
Apparently, there is an inflamed disc in my back, causing all this trouble. I was too old for surgery (that didn’t please me at all!) So, I was sent home from the hospital with some weird medication that they swore would heal this nerve, and an exercise regimen (do these regularly, they said, and you will walk again)
Well, I did all of these things religiously, and I did start to get stronger. Not as much as I wanted, though. I can stagger around a bit, but every step is agony and could put me on the floor.
This is when I discovered this alien side of me. I found myself watching the people who were caring for me. The genuine carers, who really cared, and the other kind. The ones who literally hated every minute and probably wished I would drop dead or vanish.
I began to hate these people, their selfish attitude, and the fact that they could walk and I couldn’t. I wanted them to swap places with me and see how they coped. How they couldn’t feel my hatred, I will never know, as it must ooze out of me.
There are so many things I cannot do anymore, and I am constantly chastised for wanting to try. I must try, just to see if a miracle could be waiting for me. But apparently, I am not considering the anxiety that my falling down would cause everyone.
I have moments of such dark, screaming despair. I find myself wondering if I could stagger out into the traffic, or how many pills it would take to leave this world. This isn’t really an option though, as I couldn’t stop writing and talking to people, even if I tried really hard…
Jaye Marie and Anita Dawes 
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