Monday 23 April 2007
I still don’t know what came over me.
I tried to extricate myself from my thoughts by doing something else, then I tool the bull by the horns and tried to analyse my feelings, that way thinking to calm the storm. But nothing would work, I had a dreadful Sunday. Mulling it over endlessly.
Because, there it is, yesterday morning I made the ENORMOUS mistake of saying to my sister on the telephone that I was going to have the operation.
It was frankly surreal this conversation. In fact I don’t believe I can get over it.
We were talking about other things, health, shopping, future holidays, and suddenly, I decided to tell her (with a little nervousness, all the same, but still ...) that I was soon going to have an operation. Surprised at the other end of the line (“but what operation?”). So, quite happily I told her I was having my clitoris reconstructed. She asked me if I wasn’t frightened. All excited by the conversation that was taking shape, I explained to her that no, now I was well informed and I had met Dr Foldès at the consultation, I wasn’t afraid.
And that’s when I stopped understanding any more.
She said to me “I am sure on the Machin site, on the internet, they’re not bad the trousers they make.”
Hesitantly I told her that it was my cousin who had awakened this wish for me to have the operation. And she answered “Me too, I’m going to make some enquiries I think.” Before changing the subject completely. Just like that. Suddenly.
I was hallucinating. Frankly, that had me dazed.
I was talking to her about something important, totally new even and she offered me unbelievable indifference.
I felt mort-i-fied. Humiliated even. I cut short the conversation but it was too late, the worm was in the fruit and my day was ruined. But why did I tell her? Why? If I killed myself I wouldn’t feel this profound humiliation which has been clinging to me since yesterday.
So, all right, we aren’t very close in the first place. All right, on Sunday she was a bit miserable. All right, she was maybe taken by surprise. All right, she may have had her reasons for reacting like that. All right she has always refused to talk about circumcision. All right, all right, all right. I can understand intellectually the thousand reasons which my man put forward to try to console me.
But all the same! The only explanation that I can see, myself, is that my sister doesn’t care in the least what happens to me. That doesn’t interest her. Full stop. [period].
I wish to death to believe I could open up to her, to believe that the phone calls over the last few days (we don’t speak to each other a lot, my sister and I, that way we avoid rows) were the sign of an increasing intimacy between us. I thought things were changing., that the war was behind us, and I’ve taken a slap in the face. That’ll teach me!
And I was so worried by the idea that by not talking to her, she would kearn about it from my cousin! Pffff… I was completely wide of the mark in fact.
I feel wounded. And terribly angry. I’m still boiling today. And she didn’t even ask me when the operation would be ....
[original in French]