Friday, October 10, 2014

Reverse frying pan

For most of my life I've felt pretty shit about myself. This low appraisal of self made possible with the additional support of parents, peers and prick-arsed teachers—the shit ones who enjoyed inflicting pain because it gave them the jollies and some perverted sense of self for calling me out as an example of a not-man. 

I shed that feeling of shitness when I healed from my severe nervous breakdown of '13, having been able for the first time to look back on my en-rule thus far, the dash between dates of years of birth and eventual death, and realise I'd actually won. I'd won my life. And that my abilities and the circumstances that led me to do awesome work for the people of the fine land of Oz were forged in the crucible of crap, that all that fucked-up shit I copped as a kid paid off in the end because it led me to what I did and led me to survive what then happened to me. 

Being short, fat and afflicted with pain gave me a razor-sharp mind and a keen understanding of suffering. I could see pain because I lived in pain. And that made me better able to help others.

My fibromyalgia is almost background, though the odd flare still happens. My IBS is bad at the moment but I know that's cyclical and already the peak is tapering away. I know that newwork values my skill-set and that my co-workers, many I'd used to work with years before, like me and appreciate what I do.

I no longer work for people who don't believe in what they do. And I know my organisation is healing from years of illness and sads and I am part of the extra healing that's about to commence.

So I won. I won in the end over all of them. Over the shitty people who did shitty shit to me at school through to horrible people doing horrible things to me as an adult.

Fuck me it is true—the best revenge is doing well.

Wellness for the win.

Go, C—!

Go my friend C— who got her book published. 

It's a cracking read and at the end I wanted to read more. 

Now that's a life win. 

Hat (equals sign) doffed