20th January 2002, 08:30
I have this little box in my head. Well, it’s quite a big box. Silver it is.
Metal corners, probably wooden in the middle, I’m not sure what it’s made of
exactly, I’ve never looked that closely. And since it’s just an image I’ve
counjoured up. Well, I don’t know how much the details matter.
This is the box where I put all my problems. All the things I can’t deal
with, all the things which I don’t have the strength to work out, or which are
causing me problems.
Other people seem to use walls, for much the same purpose.
Some days though, it gets hard to put that stuff in there. It seems to always
be very full, and I’m always trying to squash the lid on and hold it on lest
something get out. It’s always a fight to keep it shut, because when it does
open and it’s something I’m not ready to cope with – it’s usually bad.
It’s trying to open again. Well, maybe it’s just getting too full.
My dad’s ill, well, obvious that, he’s got cancer, he’s going to be ill. But,
no, he’s more ill. They’re maybe going to have to take him into hospital again,
because he can’t eat, or drink at the moment.
I guess I was and am trying to be optimistic, it’s the only way I can survive
I guess – just by being optimistic. But, whenever anything bad happens it hits
really hard.
I don’t know whether I should be preparing for him to die, and I don’t want
to, because if I start to try to do that I just fall apart. And I need to be
there for my mum, and my dad, should he want to talk.
Sometimes, coping is all I can manage to do. Now is one of those times.
—
Kate E