I am a pretty private person with most people, except for those I am very close to. I open up and share the inside of my soul with those who I whole heartedly trust. I will do anything for anyone I am very close to and love….and you all know who you are because I probably tell you every time I talk to you that I love you.
I have distanced myself from drama, and those I feel don’t have my best interest at heart. I have learned who my true friends are and tightened my circle. I have learned some people are nosy and some people care. Some people are in your life for you and some solely for themselves. Some for a mixture of both.
Some of you will read this blog time after time simply to be nosy, simply for yourself. For those of you, I want you to know right now that’s on you. If my heartache makes you feel better about yourself then you’re welcome. You will take comfort in knowing I cry a lot.
The whole purpose of me starting this blog was to share my experience of my husband having cancer with others dealing with similar circumstances. Ever since I got over the initial shock, I have had a tug at my heart. I have had a voice inside my head. I have had a feeling of unsettledness in my mind. I cannot explain it, nor do I understand why, but I am here in this situation for a reason.
I don’t share my feelings in the open. I don’t allow myself to feel vulnerable on purpose. I know a higher power has called me to fight, be an advocate, make a difference and help those I can help.
Those fighting with themselves on a daily basis trying to deal with where life is taking them. Those struggling with their mental self, their sick family member, death or heartbreak. This is for you. This is me using my life to reach out and help you.
I am going to be an advocate for Sarcoma cancer. I am going to do it. And, yesterday when my daughter said to me on the way to the airport that she wanted me to start something, and she wanted to work and be a part of it I knew…
So, this is vulnerable me in the open, inside my soul.
Seventy weeks and four days ago, on a sleepless night before radiation, this is where I began…
September 4, 2018
Tomorrow starts the first real day of fighting on this journey. Up until now, I’ve felt like all I’ve been doing is facing a reality I was never quite sure could be real. It was hard to hear myself say the words. Hard to accept it was really true and hard to deal with the million emotions within me.
I’ve thought about it just about every second of the day since July 27. Today is Day 39. Wonder how many more seconds I will think about this? Wonder if I’ll ever be able to forget or just put it in the back of my mind? My gut says never.
I believe this will be looking me straight in the face for awhile. Even if it goes away I will live with the fear of it, whether it’s lurking in the darkness waiting to rear it’s ugly face, bearing down, or no where in sight.
It’s a part of my life now and it will always have some sort of hold on us all. It has changed me from the person I used to be and will never find my way back to. No one will understand quite what it’s like unless they have lived it. It’s unimaginable! And what’s more surreal is that it IS real.
How can I have so many emotions at one time? The feelings are not something I can describe other than they are what I never want to talk about unless I WANT to talk about them. It makes me physically tired talking about it because it’s mentally exhausting to a degree I never imagined existed. “It takes some getting used to” is an understatement. I will never get used to it; it’s just something that is always there.
I cannot escape it, no matter how hard I try. It plays with my emotions, makes me cry with a simple thought, and makes my whole world flash in front of me. I fall asleep thinking about it and wake up thinking about it.
I cannot explain to people why I’m so unpredictable, why I don’t want to talk or share what is going on, or be open about it in general. That takes too much thought and energy. I just know I have to get through it, and that requires using any survival mechanism I can possibly hold on to. And, most of the time I feel like I’m holding on by a thread!
I’m confused, I’m in denial, I want to cry, I want to protect my children, I want to pretend, I want to forget, I want to talk, I want to be alone, I don’t want this to be happening, I don’t want to talk, I want to scream, I want this to go away, I’m lonely, I’m sad, I’m worried, I’m shocked, this is surreal, I’m anxious, I’m sleep deprived, I’m preoccupied, I can’t think, I can’t focus, I can’t get through this, I have to be strong for my children….and this roller coaster of emotions…it goes on and on and on!
And, here now I find myself like I have most of the last 38 nights….lying in bed thinking about a million thoughts and asking God and myself, Why? Why does my husband have cancer?
Last night, I had a two hour drive home from the airport. I cried a lot. For more reasons than any of you will ever know. But, I prayed, I listened to last week’s church service, and I realized I am here because I am suppose to be.
I am here for a reason.
“Bear ye one another’s burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ.” –Galatians 6:2
I know why.
And, I am strong.