The tale of the melancholic warrior

Remember when I said I try my best not to complain? I am very sorry to do this, but I am in deeply in need of airing out my mind. 

Chemo #12 - 8/12 of Taxol. Jason lent a finger (2 actually) this time.

As much as it would delight me to tell you this is another treatment day that went smoothly (and mind you, in most ways it has... ), a few hours ago, everything bubbled up out of oblivion and hit me like a ton of bricks.

It would be a bold-faced lie to say this is my pioneering instant of depression throughout this ordeal. I have my moments of weakness as I have shared before; however, I'm not sure how much I have delved into the matter in posts here. I try to be as uplifting as possible because I want anyone who reads this to be unafraid of handling whatever comes your way in life.

I still strongly believe that. But, I am only human.

And currently, I am suffering. I am worn down, numb, and lost.

When I was diagnosed, I swore my life would only partially be consumed by the cancer and for only the period of time I allowed. Hard lesson learned there. You don't control any of it. Basically, if you want to continue to live, you are given a single path. Take it or give up. This is the choice you are given.

Swallow these pills. Take this test. Allow this toxic substance to course through your veins so it can eat your healthy cells, just so we can cross our fingers and hope that it kills those abnormal ones that are attempting to destroy you. It's all quite nasty, really. No wonder the chemotherapy alone can leave your body in shambles.

This is my life now. It doesn't really define me, but it surely feels like it does. I am hard pressed to find myself motivated to do much in the days leading up to my infusions, and naturally I don't feel up to doing much in the days following either. So my days consist of waiting. I wait for my treatment. I go in for each one with a mixed sense of relief and joy because I fervently count them down.

The world looks so ugly to me these days. I see all the mindless violence, the impatience people have with eachother, etc. It saddens my heart. Or even the way people stare at me/don't make eye contact/avoid me when I go anywhere by myself and I happen to be wearing a hat or headscarf instead of a wig. Then there's the people I worry have been silent (or mostly so) during my fight so far because they're either afraid to "catch" it, or perhaps are scared I'm going to die so they'd rather keep their distance just in case.

So much I don't understand. So much I think but refuse to say. I push it all down and hold it inside myself.

I just want my life back. I want to go to work. I want to enjoy a day out with my husband at the beach or Disneyland. I want the choice to be able to attend church! I also want to have petty concerns again. Like not having an ingredient needed to cook what I wanted for dinner, or being able to bitch about my hair being uncooperative. Simple under appreciated silly things that I sorely miss.

I don't know when those things will return to being the norm for me. I wish I did. I'm only hopeful that they will be again at some point. There's so much left ahead of me that I must face.

This is not something with a permanent insta-fix where you follow doctor orders and you're guaranteed a happily ever after once you're deemed "cancer free" even. I will be forever under the microscope. I am not ungrateful that I will make it through this to be privileged enough to gain survivorship. I am simply trying to expose what hides under the pink ribbon -- pain, scars, and fear.

Honestly, how does ANYONE get through anything like this without God? I can't even picture the thought of trying to handle this without my faith. Because I realize once I've finished with all of my griping, that Christ comprehends all these emotions I'm experiencing. He felt each one them and then some firsthand when He was crucified. The Lord graciously gifted His only son to come down to Earth to become man and then willingly gave His life so that we might be saved.

That was just one reason though. God allowed this so he could feel closer to us as his proudest creation. So he might understand us better. I find such peace in knowing He empathizes any and all plight I endure.

I am so ashamed that I do not live up to the perfection worthy of His love. Perhaps one day I will be, or at least feel I am.

I am also sorry to let all of you down as well. I digress that I am still a warrior... I'm just a weary one.

 

"Evening, morning and noon I cry out in distress, and He hears my voice." Psalm 55:17