The weekend was really good. We took the kids to watch some car racing which is considered a very ‘bogan’ interest here, but we all enjoyed it nonetheless!

Then on Sunday we went to watch the celebrations of the Chinese New Year in the city. And feast on some delicious Asian food! The weather was spectacular- and again it was nice to be out doing something different 

We were tired but all glad for an interesting and varied weekend. 

Sunday night a conversation started between S and I, there seemed to be an understanding. A closeness? I needed that. This week being the anniversary has been especially hard and the constant debilitating pain of migraines has made me feel isolated and lonely. I hoped that for once we might reach some sort of plateau – could there be hope? Could some compassion and understanding be reached?

My hope was short lived. It’s amazing how despite knowing it’s over, a vulnerable part of me wanted to be wanted, wanted to be listened to and supported in a way only my longest confidante can provide.

But again I was left with no doubt in my mind that the love is gone. Words are meaningless. 

This morning I had my appointment at the clinic for the depo. The drive there my head started to throb again. I parked and entered the building feel numb. Posters advertising safe sex and the importance of consent. All of these clinics look the same. I stared blankly – not wanting to read anything or see any images that might trigger me. But my 14 year old self felt very present. I felt vulnerable, anxious, lonely and afraid. But my need to stop my menstrual cycle is strong enough to endure this hardship. The nurse called my name a couple of times apparently. I was so spaced I didn’t hear or see her. As I followed her into the room with its swabs and test kits – I wondered how I presented when I was 14. My friend spoke for me, but indeed I was even more spaced, overwhelmed, confused. I wondered how I managed to go through the process of emergency contraception when I was still very much a child. I wonder if a nurse took in my unruly state and 1000 yard stare. Or if she just saw me as another person on a conveyer belt of people taking risks? 

I remember returning to the clinic years later for my smear tests and blood tests. The tears, the support of the nurses. The rustling paper of bed linen, the sterile smell, the sympathetic smiles, the invasion of my body with objects. Again, aside from the people in that room, no one knew what I was experiencing. I remember crying on the bus home.

So today the nurse tried to initiate light conversation but I was hardly able to hear her. I must have seemed rude and/or arrogant. But I couldn’t stop my mind slipping into a protective stance, as questions floated in my mind – trying to remember images from my past.

Well, eventually I received the shot. My new migraine medication and blood pressure warranted some checks.

By the time I left my head was becoming a migraine again and I wanted to cry. But I needed S to meet me to fill up my car. So I stayed detached. The tears come and go. But my head is taking over. Back to the painkillers.

I suppose I can never truly be free. But at least I can manage through this alone. 

One day I won’t need someone to tell me it’s going to be ok – I’ll believe it myself.


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