Process

Sometimes I feel like my life slipped through my fingers. I used to be so focused, and I had this incredible willpower and drive. I was capable of everything and anything. Then I got sick. It first began my junior year of high school, but I pushed through that. I graduated early, and although a nasty tumor squashed my Air Force dreams, I dove into excellence elsewhere. College was easy, and I began volunteering in youth ministry, and at the hospital all while working full time. Strangely my work load was not stressful. It simply fueled me. I had a goal and I wasn't going to let it go.

Halloween 2010 I passed out in the middle of ringing a member up. Luckily my supervisor caught me and prevented me from slamming my head into the hard warehouse floor of Sam's Club. I seized and was rushed to the emergency room. My nightmare was soon to follow.

Cancer diagnosis isn't easy. Battling it is harder. Surviving seems impossible, even when you have already done it. Maybe it's just me but I still feel "sick". As if there is still this life threatening disease eating away at my brain and most importantly, my soul. Perhaps it's the fact that there are still tumors inside. Or maybe even after hearing those words of "remission" and "cancer free" the idea that at every check up I can get different news is too daunting. Regardless I feel trapped in this bubble that I can't pop.

I feel fragile. In more areas than one. Breathe on me too hard and I'll break. That strong girl I used to be is damaged, scared, and too often weak. I'm still trying to find my footing, and a group of people I can truly depend on. Mostly though, I'm still trying to find me again.

Maybe that's silly. In reality, I died. I need to stop trying to become who I was, but instead focus on who I now am, and who I want to be. My only identity that I can hold onto firmly is my motherhood. It's in that where I live. But there is too much more of me that needs to breathe.

Shouldn't I have healed by now?

Sleepless

I don't get much sleep.  Even when my daughter manages to fall asleep at a decent time I still find myself wide awake.  It isn't that I'm not tired.  On the contrary,  I'm tired all the time. Those pesky voices in my head though keep me up,  just gnawing at me.

I feel like I'm two people sometimes. Perhaps more.  I'm in this constant war of the person I'm being and the person I want to be.  Never could I have pictured myself to be here,  and to have this particular life with the specific struggles that I have.  Funny how life turns out, and how easily the battle with sin is lost. Despite what seems to be my constant proof of the living truth tattooed on my wrist, I find myself to be constantly on my knees praising God for His blessings. It is inconceivable the amount of happiness I find in my daughter's face. It is for her that I have survived so much, and it is through her that I still do.

Many of my hopes and dreams I have abandoned. Or at the very least have put on hold.  The ache in my heart for what I miss most I make sure to quiet, but sometimes the screams are far too loud. What was once so close within my reach seems so far away.  Time will only tell what the future will bring.

Change has come forth quickly, and I have adapted accordingly. Yet even so there are things I'm not sure how to fully accept, and don't know how to get around them.

No man is an island, nor should one try to be.

479

It's a little past two. In four hundred and seventy nine days I'll either already be, or very very close to being a married woman. Wedding Mass is at one. Getting that email a few weeks ago from Deacon Gene stating that the church is reserved for me on a specific date and at a specific time was surreal. It still is, but it seems as with every passing second I get more and more of a foothold of a dream that has all the possibility of coming true.

Four hundred and seventy nine days is a long time from now, but it is so reachable. I daily quiet down the excitement that builds up from within me. I'm being cautious, but optimistically so. Optimism rarely enters my life but I can't help but allow it to creep in. Jury is still out on the positive ramifications of this change.

I have a hard time forming sentences lately. A difficult time placing my thoughts appropriately. All I know how to say is that despite everything, I love him. I love him this deep and indescribable type of love that is at time debilitating but at its source is life giving. He's my best friend, and a piece of me that I'm nearly positive I can't survive without.

The road I'm walking is hard, but its end of destination appeal keeps me going.  

Wedding Bell Blues

My wedding day is something I have always dreamed about. It is perhaps the most girlish childlike fantasy I have ever had. My entire life I have searched for love. I have needed to be loved. I thought at a young age that once I found it I'd be fulfilled. I'd find this wonderful man who would adore me and make me feel like I mattered. Make me feel like I was worth something. Then he would one day ask me to be his wife in a grand expression illustrating his great love for me. I'd throw myself into planning a wedding, and that day will come and I would truly know happiness. All that dreaming has just set me up for disappointment and perhaps put too much pressure on everyone involved. I like to think I don't ask for much, but maybe I do. And maybe that void in me is too big for anyone to ever fill. Love has not brought me everlasting joy. It has caused me great pain and make me doubt everything.

I'm scared of so much. I want to be confident but the smallest thing makes me run back into my well lived in corner. I have buried anger stinging beneath my tears and I walk around in this constant ache. I don't even know what I'm looking for anymore or what direction I'm heading.

I want to get excited. I want to have the freedom to dream. I want to share happiness with those important to me. But I think I'm standing alone and there is this huge possibility that I'm not even standing. I'm more crumbled up in a ball on the floor.

Shattered

I feel broken. Like I'm walking around missing pieces of me. And the pieces that are still there are barely intact. Every step I take just hurts. I'm hollowed out.

I don't know how to be whole again.

And I'm running out of words to say.

Enter Sandman

Sometimes, on my good days I have this dream. I wake up, and the sun is shining. There are clouds gracing the sky and they're the kind that make you wish you could go jump in them. The temperature is exactly 72 degrees and everything feels perfect. Then in a flash I'm in this room, and I'm staring at myself in the mirror. An unfamiliar satisfaction enters my mind. I can't help but smile at myself because for the first time in my life I see my reflection and the first word that came to mind was beautiful. Then in another flash I'm looking at you from a distance. Your eyes are lit up in a smile, and a wide grin is spread across your face. You look down at your feet quickly in embarrassment and then quickly back at me.  Our eyes lock and then everything freezes. I just breathe in that moment with you and it lasts until something stirs me awake.

Dreams are stupid.

Inner Child

I am not a little kid. I don't even know when I stopped being a kid. It was before most, I'm sure. However not being a child did not make me immune from being naive. It did not prevent me from attaining a type of immaturity that only time and hard life experience can take away. I've had to grow up a lot over the years, and even now I am not afraid to admit that I still have more growing up to do. I have not been fully molded yet, and perhaps the idea that one day I will be is another example of how much more I need to grow.

It is with this that I find myself overly frustrated. Completely exhausted over the fact that at their rawest point my emotions are child-like. Like a spoiled child who hasn't gotten her way, I'm internally throwing the biggest temper tantrum ever. Perhaps I am outwardly as well. My heart is consumed with jealously, and anger that cannot be fully rationalized. I want to scream for this life that I almost feel entitled to but the fight in me is distinguished. I just sit in the corner, arms crossed, and lips extended in a pout.

However, at the root of all my emotions is a feeling a child, I believe, cannot fully grasp. For once this emotion is felt to this extent, childhood is but a distant past. The pain, hurt, and betrayal that weigh me down are fully grown. They are a lifetime's worth.

I keep being told that love isn't easy. I never expected easy. But how much pain can love bear before it stops truly being love?