Tyrant has some scabbed up knees, she is a toddler, we spend a lot of time outside and she seems to find everything and nothing to trip over. This morning, ‘Mummy, my knees still aren’t better!’ ‘They will be soon, a few days they will be better’. Now for the toddler favourite refrain, ‘why?’ Tyrant doesn’t just accept any answer she wants a full break down of why, so my response of ‘they just need time’ wasn’t enough. I ended up saying ‘time makes everything better’. ‘Really, Mummy, how much time?’
That my darling, is the million dollar question. ‘How much time before it’s better?’ I don’t know. I know I feel better than I did a year ago, but I don’t know how much time has to pass before I feel ‘better’, will I ever be ‘better’? I don’t know. I don’t know what ‘better’ is. What constitutes ‘better’? Are there levels? Does functioning count? Does being able to laugh again constitute ‘better’? Does having severe down days mean I am not ‘better’?I think the reality is that sometimes time can’t make everything ‘better’. Sometimes, the injury is too severe to heal fully. I may not feel as low and bad as I did yesterday or last year, but the holes that have been ripped into me, will never fully heal, they will scar and forever be a sore spot when touched, poked or prodded.
Am I liar now? The answer, yes. There is nothing I won’t do to protect Tyrant from the harsh realities of the world we live in. She has all the time in the word to learn that time doesn’t make everything ‘better’, some things never get ‘better’, whatever ‘better’ is, they just become….