Below is an excerpt from the notes I take when I'm at my lowest... I don't call it a diary, but for some reason writing things down makes them easier for me to release. Why am I sharing this in a blog for the whole internet world to see? Sometimes I wonder... but, I hope because it will touch someone else who's felt the same way, and make them feel less alone. Maybe give them the courage to write it down and let it go. Maybe it will reach someone who never thought about life after cancer, but who's spouse or friend is going through this... I believe we need to bring our pain to the light, to have any hope of overcoming it.
And I intend to overcome.
I’m dying, and no one cares.
I know how ridiculous it sounds, but that is nonetheless how I feel...how I’ve been feeling. So, when a friend can’t find time to get together, or my Mom is busy, or my husband and I have a spat - what should be minor inconveniences in the larger scheme of things, are suddenly devastating rejections in which I can’t recover. And if more than one happens at a time, forget it. I’m a puddle.
Because, for the last 2 years, I’ve been living in the world where I’m dying.
You see, I have cancer. The doctors, and blood tests, and scans, that all show my cancer to be in remission, well, they just haven’t gotten the latest memo, that’s all….
I’ve actually imagined the replacement wife and mother Roy and Jack will have so many times, there are days I feel like I’m an intruder in our lives. Other times, I wish they’d just get on with it, and leave me behind.
Because, I’m dying.
I’m over.
I’m useless.
I’m spent.
I’m dangerous to love.
I’m broken.
I wasn’t worthy anyway...
It’s weird, because, while I’m screaming, it seems to me, for people to notice what I’m going through, at the same time, I just want everyone to go away. I want it to be over. I want to stop being so afraid. And I want to stop hurting - it’s not the physical pain - it’s the emotional pain. It’s the heavy weight I feel I drag around with me everywhere.
Because, you know, I’m dying.
I think, if it weren’t me writing this, I’d probably think something like this:
Oh, you big baby. You’re NOT dying, but other people actually ARE. Stop complaining. You’re “cured”. You should be happy. What is wrong with you?!
And, it’s true.
I wish someone would tell my brain that.
I wish someone would remind my heart that it doesn’t have to defend against the inevitable destruction.
I wish somehow, I could remember that tomorrow. I want to. I just don’t know how.
And it’s not for lack of praying…
I’m not one to lament my unanswered prayers. I know God hears me. I know He listens. I also know His will is not my own, and His plan is better than mine. He’s shown me that over and over. I have no doubts. I know there’s an answer somewhere, and I know it’s from Him. I know I can’t overcome this without Him.
I know I have to give my fear and my control to Him.
But, I’m still dying, you see.
So, there may be no point in trying.
It just might be too late for me. And, in that case, I just want it to be over.
Please, I’m so tired. Can it just be over?
Come, Jesus, Come.
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