Ruth's Real Life

A single sentence can change the shape of the world. This one changed mine.  It was an ordinary day on an ordinary afternoon, and I was sitting on an ordinary couch. A late winter sun was lengthening the shadows in the garden. It felt like winter and there were certainly shadows, but it may well have been summer. When you’re at the bottom of the black pit of depression, most days seem wintery. Oprah was doing one of her usual TV interviews and her voice was a soothing antidote to the loneliness of the day. She was talking to a young woman who had been through years of abuse and fought the dragons of her darkness. I was mostly lost in my own space but there was one sentence spoken by her that pierced my heart: ‘You should never have to fight to be loved.’ That one sentence was a turning point for me. It was a moment of clarity that allowed me to take a step forward and that is often the most difficult thing – the one step forward – the step that will take us away from

I goal set to die at 63. Dogs look like their owners - sorry, Pablo. That may seem like a ridiculous goal, but at the time I set it, life was bleak.   To fix a goal and then to see it vividly is a sure way to turn possibility into reality. Life changed, as it mostly does. I stopped working on this particular goal and when I turned 63 in November, I didn’t die. Well, not that day anyway and not in the traditional sort of way. I died on a Friday evening in February, sitting on the toilet and weeping. If this conjures an image of Elvis, it was nothing as epic as that. The tears ran down my cheeks and dripped into my underpants – no dignity in this death. I now have a new method by which to measure stress, it’s on a scale ranging from one to crying into my underpants. (Should you need to use this scale, it also goes up a level to crying acid tears.) I’ve had to muster a fair amount of resilience in my 63 years; I know the weight of stress. I’m not sure why this point in m