Happy Birthday To Me

... and to my sister.

God, in His Wisdom, knew full well the dimensions to which my ego might expand, should it be left untended. He therefore arranged that I not receive a birthday all my own, but instead share it through all time with my beloved twin.

Not only is this a Divinely Willed thing, ordered to my eternal salvation, it also comes with many other fringe benefits (eg the built-in-best-friend.) In any case, I don't mind. After you share a womb for 9 months with a person, the perpetual sharing of a Day with them is no big deal.

Thought You'd Never Hear From Me Again

Right?

I really can't bring myself to type it all out. But my sister explains things here.

I rarely have a conversation these days which does not revolve around dark, weighty matters. I'm trying to resume blogging because I think it will make me feel a little less isolated, and help me to stop staring obsessively at the gaping hole in my chest. (Note to Oblivions: I am not here referencing a literal hole, but a metaphorical one indicating the ripping out of my heart which this singularly excruciating experience and ongoing Associated Unpleasantness has engendered.)

So, I'm not going to talk about what happened, or all the hurt, anger and grief that has come with it. Nor will I write long, in-depth posts about the particulars of how physically sick I am.

Also prohibited at this point: vocations gab.

The suffering in my body is nothing compared to the agony of this question. I would happily give my eyes, ears, guts, arms and legs, if only I could be a Sister again. But I don't know if that's ever going to be possible. There 's this surgery, which would cure the disease. But who knows if the outcome would make me an acceptable candidate for religious life?

Since I can't know, I've decided to stop tormenting myself about it.

So that is enough of that.

Fear not, for further posts will be Deliberately Cheerful,
and not of the pity-party variety.