the things I don't say
"Oh, I'm fine." "Yes, I'm lucky that it was caught early." "Stage 1 is definitely positive." "Good thing I look good in hats!"
There are so many things I don't say.
I do not have a positive attitude. I am not strong. I am not dealing with this well. Those are the things you choose to see. Those are the things I choose to let you see. Because it's easier and expected for you to think that I'm doing just fine than to listen to the ugliness that lives in my mind now.
I am overwhelmed by the kindness and support and love that people have shown me - mentally and emotionally overwhelmed. People care about me; friends and family love me; and I am grateful for that. Yet I don't respond to emails, I don't want to answer the phone, I read a card and feel nothing for the sentiment expressed inside. And that just makes me feel guilty.
I don't believe there's a cosmic cause-effect in place for people's lives; there's too much irrationality in this world to think that everyone gets what she deserves. Yet I can't help but wonder why I have the life I have: single, childless, cancer. Did I do something specific to create the chain of events that led here? Was there a wrong turn somewhere? Did I have a chance for a different life and simply walk right past it?
I returned my red suit today because the arms were open enough to see one of my scars. Like every other scar I carry, I only know how to cover them up.
I don't care that I have cancer. I was so upset before I was diagnosed but with the passing of that moment, I just don't care. I feel like I'm simply doing what's expected of me: surgery, more surgery, exploring treatments. I'm playing the part I'm supposed to play: plucky young woman fighting back to reclaim her life. I'm not fighting, I'm just going through the motions. Part of me wants to walk away from it all and just let whatever happens, happen.
There's nothing better on the other side of this. I'm going to survive it but I don't know what I'm surviving it for. My career? Years of a drug that may send me into early menopause? A future of wondering when the cancer will return?
These are the things I don't say. Because if I did, people would flinch or tell me they're not true or recommend a therapist. So, I write them down and hope that the act will take away the strength of all the things I don't say.
10 thoughts:
A lot of time I feel the same way about my life, and I haven't had to go through everything that you have. I hate it when you talk about things like this and people think they've fixed things if they tell you to see a therapist. Sometimes things just aren't good- and it isn't wrong to feel that way. I don't think our culture does well with sadness, or with things being bad. There seems to be some assumption that what we need to fix is our attitude- that if we just see things the right way things are dandy. And that isn't always true. I feel the same way a lot, and I try to do what I can to put myself in new circumstances, to call old friends every night, to do one thing a day that might make things different. But that doesn't mean things will necessarily get better- life isn't like that. I don't know what the answer is, but I do think you'd be surprised by how much you mean to people- they're sending you those cards and things because you matter to them. And that's something that will be there when this is over. There are a lot of people who don't have that, and you should be proud of the life you've built. I also think that we ARE the people who choose to let others see. Ugliness may live in your mind. It lives in most of our minds. But that you choose to show something else, even if its because you think others need that, is a choice that says something about you. And it means that you are not the ugliness, even if you have it. What stands out to be most is how often we can sit in our houses and apartments, and walk down the street next to so many people having just as hard a time as us, and never know, never knock on their door. You aren't alone, for whatever that helps.
I hear you and I've been there.
I often feel that I do/say stuff so that others won't feel bad. That doesn't mean that I actually believe what I say -- but, it's easier for me to deal with folks who aren't feeling bad about my cancer.
Strangely enough, I kind of looked forward to my chemo appointments -- and I kind of miss going to the clinic now -- because people didn't feel sorry for me there. They didn't look at me with that look -- especially after I lost my hair. At the clinic, I was an easy case -- and they were used to dealing with folks with cancer... I was 'normal' there.
I also had my informal support group at the clinic. There were several women who were on the same treatment schedule -- all for breast cancer. We talked about all kinds of things and it helped a lot.
I agree with exwool's comments so much. Lovely words. I agree that your effort to present in a particular way says something about you. I know that you mean something to people -- your life means something to us!
I also agree that it's not right to expect ourselves to think positively all of the time. I just bought this book on that particular topic.
Karen Duffy--remember her, Duff the MTV VJ back when they played videos?--she would wear ball gowns and make-up and crowns and heels to her chemo appointments (she had brain cancer)--it was her way of embracing it, making fun of it, and getting through it. I don't know why I'm telling you this--you actually sound like you're coping just fine to be honest. I think my point is that there is no one right way to cope. Sometimes indifference can be a good thing. I'm glad that you have this space to say all the things that you don't say in public.
However, I don't think you give yourself enough credit--the fact that you still get out of bed, go to your treatments, deal with the cancer and still go to your job and do your job--you are so much stronger than you think. I don't know if you want to hear that, but you are. You *should* acknowledge that this f&^%ing sucks. I'm rooting for you. We all are.
When my sister was being treated for cancer, it used to make me so angry that she had to make it seem like everything was basically OK, so other people without cancer wouldn't get upset. I wanted to take them aside and say "NO, it's NOT OK!"
thinking of you...
I know those moments of feeling it's all for crap on the inside and yet assuring everyone of the fineness of the situation (although for different circumstances). It's annoying, and I've felt as if we don't have adequate language to respond, or at least not how I wanted to respond, which was something like "I'm OK, but only because I don't have any other option, but really I'm not OK because I doubt myself and feel like I've shattered into a million pieces inside. However, I know that's what I'm working with right now, which means it's OK even thought it's not OK. Not at all." Yeah, I know that bit rambles, but it's always made perfect sense for me when dealing with a big, bad situation.
I'm glad you have this space to let some of it out.
What everyone else said is so right on. If you want to be mad, be mad. When you feel like being happy, be happy. I think many of us, myself included, spend way too much time putting on a happy face.
This resonates with me, very strongly.
Putting on a happy face, a plucky coping face, seems the only thing to do because dealing with the flack, the implications that if things aren't OK it's somehow my fault (whateve the world threw at me), and the burden of other people's fear and shame and upset and frustration - but wearing a mask feels wrong too. That's one reason blogging has become very important to me too - I can take the mask off for a few minutes, be honest and raw and over-dramatic, and pull together enough energy for another spell of playing a role (rather badly, but at least trying to play a role). You have my every... sympathy isn't the right word, there should BE a word which says, sister, I've been there, in that emotional place, it sucks, but you're not alone.
And I do wonder where my other life went too. The one with a loving partner and children and a big garden and feeling safe in my work. Sorry, this is not the helpful positive comment I meant to write, but... we're here and listening, I hope it conveys that message at least.
I can relate to the not wanting to answer the phone or reply to emails and to feeling empty when reading cards. And I also know the guilt that comes with that. Glad you are giving yourself time and space here to just be.
(o)
Post a Comment