Eastern European Muslim

Again. Third time in the last 10 years. Second time in the last two. My friend told me it’s not 100%. The nurses told me, too. But still, it was worth giving it a try.  But now I’m bald again. Baldie, baldie, as the youngsters joke. Walter White. Or Achim Lauritzen, people from my generation and above may remember him. Bowling ball.  The ball effect is enhanced by the 10 extra kgs that got on me as a result of the steroids. Those were necessary so that I can take chemo. So in order to stay alive, I need to be fat. And ugly.  I have no uterus, it had to be taken out so that my life could be saved. My beauty and my femininity is the price I had to pay so that I won’t die. Of course I can see the silver lining. The possibility that I can be here is already a miracle. Not one miracle, many of them. It is true. And I’m inexpressibly grateful. But I’m tired. Of the whole journey. And also by explaining myself that the sky is always blue above the clouds. And that every cloud has

I’m a rebooted old computer. It had been shut down, the viruses were cleared and now it is restarted and ready to work. It’s stopping time to time, going very slow, opening too many pages and can’t seem to concentrate on the tasks. It needs to have a really good programme installed about organisation. It needs to learn to classify its tasks and duties and it needs to learn something crucial to its survival: to prioritise its own needs. Very simply to put itself first. This programme is brand new for this computer. It had been programmed to serve others, that is the key to acceptance. If it’s useful enough for others, they will like it and deem it worthy to keep. That’s not how life can be organised.  It is really not sustainable. It’s not only my energy that will run out and never fill up, but I can’t even get things done. I don’t know what to do and when to do it, if I’m just constantly running after other’s requirements. In fact that’s how my life has been so far. Running