Hacked away at my side fringe because hey here’s something about my body I have control over and if it’s shit at least it’s like a scar other people can actually see and I did it and it’s MINE and if I did it badly I’m okay with that because at least it was me who did it.
Category: Cancer Survivorship (Page 9 of 11)
Having PTSD – or anxiety, or whatever the hell this is – is like lugging a big heavy suitcase around with you all day, but it seems to be invisible to everyone else and you’re shouting at them in your head, “Why can’t you see this thing?!” But you don’t dare say it out loud in case the suitcase really is all in your head and your friends and family think you’re crazy and making a big deal out of nothing, or just attention seeking or trying to get sympathy. Experience has already taught you there are wrong people to try to talk to about it, so you keep your luggage to yourself and hope one day it becomes lighter, and someone sees it and says “are you okay with all of that?” And then you can finally say “No. Thank you for asking about it. I am not okay right now.” After days, weeks, months of lying, you will finally have found a chance to tell the truth. “No, I’m not okay, and this is a bit heavy, actually.” And then someone might give you a luggage trolley, or something. And things will be easier. I hope. Because I don’t even know where to find a luggage trolley.
This is just for me. If someone else gets something out of it too, whether it makes someone else feel less alone, or like someone can relate, that’s fantastic. If not, then fine, it’ll just be an outlet for me.
I’m struggling this week. I had a bad dream a couple of nights ago, and because I didn’t want to have any more bad dreams, I delayed going to bed last night and went to sleep late. Not too late, but I was tired today. I feel perpetually tired.
Remember that game from when we were kids, where the whole point of the game is to not think about the game and when you do, you have to say “I lost the game”, causing everyone around you to also lose the game?
And then after that, all you can think about is the game, even though you hadn’t thought about the game in a long time and the only thing that set you off was thinking “hmm, I haven’t thought about the game in a while, I’ve been doing really well”?
That’s what thinking about my cancer history is like.
It’s a fucking tedious game.
I thought I’d been doing well. I had been doing well. It’s just been a bad week is all. Next week will be better.
If you’ve been doing really well lately, you should tell yourself that. Give yourself a pat on the back. Seriously. Give yourself some credit for coping. You’re doing okay.
Confiding in a friend is like shouting – you have to get a bit closer before they really hear you.
Gonna wear a tight-fitting dress to a party tomorrow and not even worry about how weird my belly looks cuz I can’t help that there’s a flat bit where my bowel used to be that makes the rest of my belly stick out more so I’m just gonna be comfortable with my post-op / post-cancer body instead of feeling self-conscious, mmkay?
What do brave cancer patients/survivors do that cancer patients/survivors who aren’t brave don’t do?
What do strong cancer patients/survivors do that cancer
patients/survivors who aren’t strong don’t do?
I had never experienced survivor’s guilt until very recently. Today at work we had a Macmillan Coffee Morning to raise money for cancer support, and I figured the day was going to be hard. For the first hour
I sat squeezing my stress ball trying to stop my hands from shaking. I don’t even know why they were shaking. My discomfort and reluctance to have anything to do with cancer charity related events seems somewhat illogical. I mean, the Macmillan charity has never tried to kill me. So I already started today having a difficult time trying to understand myself.
