cancer has a hell of a grip

The twigs and brush you see on the side of a rushing stream--you know the ones, they are caught and mangled and are either here nor there. They have been broken off from what they were and are now waiting to be broke free and float along the stream.....there I am--broken from what I used to be, holding on, slowly getting pulled from the safety of the shore.

I now stand in the shower and feel like an anchor is tugging me down, deeper and into despair. As I wash my hair, making myself forget the fact that it will soon be gone, I imagine the rope that has been tied around my ankles, pulling me into a blurry mix of despair and pure exhaustion and failure. I try to step out of the rope, but it is tied tight......cancer has a hell of a grip.

I am beginning to feel that daily activities are pointless, I just don't have the energy. I put all my energy into not breaking; not having outbursts, and not sitting in the middle of the street, the waiting room, or the store and having a meltdown. Tears are beginning to hurt. Each one that runs down my cheek is a reminder that I am not me anymore. Each tear is a reminder I have cancer. A reminder that my plan, my goals, everything I have worked so hard for is not an option. that the family we wanted to start isn't an option. That me not having cancer is not an option. That I have months and months ahead of me that I already want to forget. Then in a few years I get to readdress my options...it is just to hard to comprehend that my life has been put on hold.

I try to stay strong for others, I have to. I burdened them with my situation...it is the least I can do. Also I do it for me. Not for the reasons you may think, not because I want to remain positive (which I plan to) and tears are weak (not true) but I do it because when I cry or break down in front of others they cry and try to comfort me....this resembles pity to me. I know it is not where the actions originate but that is the translation. I want to scream and yell that I am fine, I just have these damn tears that need to come out or I am going to explode! I am full of combustible emotion and I am not sure when or where to light the fuse, or if I even will....

Exploding may be a good idea. I could then pick and choose the pieces off the ground and put myself back together, maybe a little bit more patient, less of a control freak and calm. I could use that...