Facing trials.

 

Today has been a good day.  It's not quite 11 in the evening, and I'm sitting on the balcony in my old and rickety IKEA rocking chair that I fear is nearing the end of its useful life. (It come to all things, including ourselves. But do not think I am coming to that stage - far from it.  So please don't worry - as if you would!)  The day was hot, approaching 30C I think, not bad for early September in Warsaw, and even now it's a comfortable 19C and in my old blue shorts and new black Red Hot Chilli Peppers tee, I'm warm. I have a chilled Lech beer on the table beside me, a full belly from My Beloved's cooking, and the sublime music of Mozart fills my ears.  It truly is a fine ending to a fine day, and I feel thankful and satisfied with my life right now.

Of course, it hasn't always been so.  There have been trials to face and there will be more I doubt not.  It's what we humans have to go through (probably all living things do, come to think of it). And that doesn't matter in the least.  It's how we face those trials that matters. An example: my dad died of cancer when I was 19, and left me the main breadwinner.  I coped, comforted my mum and my sisters, and buried him. But I shed not a tear, it would have upset everyone, so I bottled it up and hid in a beer barrel for several years, before marrying and having my family.  So essentially I didn't face that trial at all, and it took nearly 30 years before I cried it out, and another 20 before I faced the guilt I carried and buried it.  In fact, the final exorcism only happened last year, when I wrote a short story around it and cleared my mind finally. Now I'm comfortable with it.

I've had other pains in my life, too, and faced them rather better.  Losing my mum in similar circumstances, and not mourning her properly either (I did that at the same time as I did dad), but it wasn't so painful because I was closer to her and she knew it (in a way my dad never knew how I felt about him...).  In and out of work more frequently than was ideal, and a couple times it was no-one else's fault but mine - again, this new found honesty has made me realise it.  Illness: of course, not least the two Covid infections that left me in poor mental health, leading to the depression that forced me to look at all this stuff with different eyes (and gave rise to this honesty).  

It's been tough sometimes, but accepting things about myself and my life that I previously had not recognised (or worse, denied) has laid ghosts I never realised I had to rest, and given me an inner peace at last.  But none of it has been close to how tough life is for millions of people. Those in Ukraine, for instance, victims of Putin's war, watching their country reduced to rubble as their armed forces fight to turn the tide.  Those in Syria and Yemen, for instance, victims of brutal civil war and oppression by their own leaders (propped up by superpowers fighting a proxy war).  The hundreds of thousands of migrants in this world, walking and hitching rides and paying people smugglers, for thousands of miles, in a vain attempt to find better lives in the West but finding mostly hate and victimisation instead of help and comfort. The millions of people across the tropical regions, especially in Africa and low lying island nations, destined to become climate refugees because of the selfishness and stupidity of the richer nations incapable of weaning themselves off their carbon fuel addiction. 

I can of course do nothing about any of that, beyond showing my support, voicing my disgust and advocating in conversations with friends and acquaintances and total strangers on various social media platforms or face to face.  So I focus on my own life, and those of my nearest and dearest, and try to make our lives as good as possible.  I do my best, although often it's not enough, but at least I face my trials now, instead of hiding away.

Money is always too tight: being over generous and trusting people I should have walked away from has seen to that, but we manage.  We are not wealthy, far from it, but as long as we are fit and strong and work hard and honestly then we are fine, and can have clear consciences.  That is more than can be said for some people who have taken advantage. There is little, realistically, that we can do about any of that, except make the best of what we have: a good and comfortable home full of love and laughter (and sometimes tears - we are human after all), clothes to wear and food on the table.

Aging is a frustration, but I'm becoming more settled with that.  For years I've refused to recognise the passing of time, trying to do things increasingly beyond me.  It's led to hospitalisation and various aches and pains, so now at 70 (and a half) I've come to accept I'm no longer a young man and started to live my life accordingly.  I feel better for it, fitter after changing my diet and exercising more.  And happier: I'm in a better place now, mentally, than I have been for years (perhaps even since childhood).

Which is just as well.  I was recently diagnosed with prostate cancer, until quite recently a killer.  I've had loads of scans  and blood tests and a painful biopsy, and thanks to God it's not as bad as we initially feared.  I need surgery, which has been scheduled today for a few weeks hence, but with luck I will be through this, cancer free and living a normal life, by the end of this year.  My mindset has been positive since I found out, and the doctors have all been confident my good health and strength will be a great help in my recovery, and foresee no major issues.  But still - it's serious, and surgery, and there can be no 100% guarantees.  But I will be fine, I know this in my bones. 

So until the next time, good night.  I'm off to bed now.  Happy and content.