04/04/2026
i didn’t gather jonah’s thoughts before writing this because he can’t talk and would probably toddle off before i finish asking.
today my other half referred to life after Jonah as the “second half of your (my) life.”
i wanted to shout what the fck do you mean rhys. But i couldn’t pretend I didn’t know exactly what he’s on about.
I gave up my old life for this new one. My boring plain same old same old life for this new life that brings me the biggest highs and lows “the all” can bring. Bringing up a child, sleepless nights. Harrowing amounts of health complications. A body I don’t recognise, doughy and stretched, like worn dried out play dough rather than the tight yet depleted gaunt body i used to deprive of fun things like a second helping of cake or any food after 7pm. Regimented, predictable life. Awful friends I kept around for continuity but yet always.. predictable
Some things from the past didn’t change. For example; listening to twenty one pilots, as one does i belted the words “a drag path etched into the surface as evidence I left there on purpose.” loading the dishwasher of Jonah’s bottles, that maybe I should have actually cleaned this morning, I felt a euphoric yet well haggard release of emotions. This really is the second half of my life, the old me is dead, i’m so glad. I appreciate life better, having had so many threats of mine and my son’s life from somehow multiple 1 in 1,000,000+ health conditions. The day before I went on maternity leave we were inches from being struck by a school bus on my way to work. I couldn’t help but think for ages, were Jonah and I not “supposed to be here” for just life’s natural population control, and all these awful things are happening to get rid of us. My mindset has now changed to, we got away with it, we’re still fcking here!
1 year post cancer diagnosis, nearing 3 months post major surgery from an accident in early January, my mortality is an ugly scab i keep picking at, but as scabs which get picked at do, they turn into accidental scars, and scars stick around for famously, life.
So there you go. Serendipity in scab analogies is my thoughts on things.
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