I try not to hide sadness when I feel it. I certainly didn't on my last post. It's because I want this to be an honest place. Pretending everyday is peaches hurts me, and it hurts others by perpetuating dangerous expectations. I dislike to be called positive, and prefer to be realistic. Realistic with hope firmly held in my hands. I don't deny the whirlwind of feelings inside me, but try (key word: try) to remain centered once I acknowledge them.
"Positive" can become an oppressive force when used recklessly. It asks a lot of human hearts. It's not just me, a lot of cancer patients feel they can't give in to being sad, disappointed, without letting down those around them. Being "positive" can crush you. In extreme cases, showing sadness means that you harm yourself physically.
"Cancer can hear your sad thoughts," we are told by society, "and it will grow stronger from them."
That pressure doesn't help, that pressure brings tired bodies and tired minds into even darker spaces.
As I usually point out, this extends past cancer. When we go through tough times we feel we have to put on happy masks. We tell ourselves that this protects our family, friends, ourselves...but underneath we fester. Crumbling edifices can't support their own weight, much less others.
In our heads, unspoken pains twist and turn into terrible monsters that don't always reflect reality. Being honest about feelings of insecurity, fear, sadness and disappointment take strength. Sometimes just acknowledging those fears shrivels them up in the light of day.
I feel better today about where I am in treatment.
I have an analogy I think of often, odd...perhaps, but one of those bits that stuck with me from reading random books. I studied philosophy and history throughout my life. One book I read talked about how the devil, in the Old Testament, was still an angel of god. He caused bad things to happen to people to divert them from their path, and through that manifest Gods will. I don't believe in the devil now, but it made me think about how things that look terrible on the surface may not always be so. Tragedy allows new opportunities to present themselves. Stagnation lifts. On the wings of chaos, comes a bit of beauty.
I hold new hope that these new drugs will cause a good response. Had I hung around for another year on the old chemo regime, making small gains, I might come out on the other side with a body too weak and damaged to go into surgery, even if I did had clear margins to resect. After that scan, I assessed my situation, faced my fear and reticence, and decided to start over with the same mindset I had at the beginning: Anticipate for the best response, minimal complications, and forge ahead.
Set me on fire...
...I won't tell you it doesn't hurt, that I don't feel fear, or sadness, but I will not back down until I get this done.
"Positive" can become an oppressive force when used recklessly. It asks a lot of human hearts. It's not just me, a lot of cancer patients feel they can't give in to being sad, disappointed, without letting down those around them. Being "positive" can crush you. In extreme cases, showing sadness means that you harm yourself physically.
"Cancer can hear your sad thoughts," we are told by society, "and it will grow stronger from them."
That pressure doesn't help, that pressure brings tired bodies and tired minds into even darker spaces.
As I usually point out, this extends past cancer. When we go through tough times we feel we have to put on happy masks. We tell ourselves that this protects our family, friends, ourselves...but underneath we fester. Crumbling edifices can't support their own weight, much less others.
In our heads, unspoken pains twist and turn into terrible monsters that don't always reflect reality. Being honest about feelings of insecurity, fear, sadness and disappointment take strength. Sometimes just acknowledging those fears shrivels them up in the light of day.
I feel better today about where I am in treatment.
I have an analogy I think of often, odd...perhaps, but one of those bits that stuck with me from reading random books. I studied philosophy and history throughout my life. One book I read talked about how the devil, in the Old Testament, was still an angel of god. He caused bad things to happen to people to divert them from their path, and through that manifest Gods will. I don't believe in the devil now, but it made me think about how things that look terrible on the surface may not always be so. Tragedy allows new opportunities to present themselves. Stagnation lifts. On the wings of chaos, comes a bit of beauty.
I hold new hope that these new drugs will cause a good response. Had I hung around for another year on the old chemo regime, making small gains, I might come out on the other side with a body too weak and damaged to go into surgery, even if I did had clear margins to resect. After that scan, I assessed my situation, faced my fear and reticence, and decided to start over with the same mindset I had at the beginning: Anticipate for the best response, minimal complications, and forge ahead.
Set me on fire...
...I won't tell you it doesn't hurt, that I don't feel fear, or sadness, but I will not back down until I get this done.
الآن من خلال التواصل مع فروع مراكز صيانة وايت وستنجهاوس المعتمدة في مصر ستتمكن من اصلاح كافة اعطال اجهزة توكيل وستنجهاوس الكهربائية بأمان حيث نقدم كافة خدمات صيانة وستنجهاوس على يد فنييين صيانة مدربين على اعلى مستوى
ReplyDelete