Last Sunday I received a gift from my dearest friend Jamie. It consisted of two things but ultimately, the biggest gift was the words she wrote me. They were honest, which from Jamie, I expect nothing less. Some were harsh. When you boil it down, the letter was a form of Jamie kicking my butt. Though it was more than that. It was Jamie telling me, reminding me, that she believed in me. Yelling at me, almost, in that perfect black handwriting that I love to see that she has faith in everything I am. "I have faith in your willpower. I have faith that your determination will carry you through". I walked away reading that letter determined I wasn't going to die. Or even if I was, I was going to stop acting like my life was over. I have to much to do. Six months is ridiculous. Any amount of time is ridiculous. I am 22 years old. I have too much life ahead of me.
Monday came storming in and I took my lovely pills and everything hit me. I can't explain the sickness. Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday. I've managed actually really well. Better than I should. Why? Because I had something to keep me going. I didn't allow myself to feed my negativity and get into my head. I didn't let every aching muscle consume me. I didn't allow the nausea to take over my entire being or the spinning of my head to keep my eyes shut from the world. Survey please. For the past weeks, and maybe months I've drowned myself in tears. I wish that was an exaggeration.Depression couldn't even describe it. But this week I didn't. Until yesterday. I turn the corner and I'm back to where I started, though maybe worse. Double the chemo and more unstable than ever. I want to throw a temper tantrum. I want to kick and scream at how unfair everything is and this doesn't even all have to do with my freaking cancer. It's almost 9 and I should be at a park right now all ready to go to to clean it up, but I'm not. I'm at my computer on here complaining. I feel like I'm letting everyone down.
I want my best friend to hold me and sometimes I'm so overwhelmed with how guilty and pathetic that makes me feel.
I hate being at my parent's house.
I want to runaway. I always want to runaway.
Jamie... I'm sorry.
You can't control the way your body makes you feel. Just take control of the things you have control over. Namely your attitude.
ReplyDeleteYou've got this in your little pocket, girl. This illness will not have mercy on you so you've got to give it hell!
I'll always be here to buoy you up when I can but you know I'm here to throw my arm around your shoulder when needed too. :) Love you.