The past couple of weeks haven’t be very good for me. I have been struggling for a while, but didn’t fully understand why. I was trying to be ok, trying to carry on using the excuse ‘because I have to’ but not sure if I was actually trying to convince other people or myself.
So if you’ve read my blog before then you know September was meant to be a huge deal for me. It was supposed to be my last 6 monthly appointment with my oncologist marking the end of my 6 year journey with the big C. We booked an amazing family holiday to celebrate, only for the appointment to be postponed. That date was the light at the end of my tunnel. My fucking long tunnel. The day I dreamed about for 6 years. When it didn’t happen, when he decided to wait another 6 months I was gutted.
I slowly started to accept waiting another few months because after all, the end was still within my reach. The end of tests, hospitals, scans, appointments. The end of Cancer. I could wait a little bit more, right?
Then I got a little too comfy didn’t I. A little too cocky almost.
See with me, cancer means more than just taking my health, it took so much more than that from me. It took friends, my career, dreams, goals. It even took my identity.
Every time I climbed back up, it knocked me right back to the beginning again. But this time it felt different. I felt like I was actually going to win. I had built my career back up and got a job that I absolutely love. I had made some incredible friends who have made losing the dickhead ones so much easier. I had dreams, goals and finally an identity. I was winning at life. So close to sticking my finger up to Cancer and saying “I win”.
Then December happened. Not my journey this time, but still a journey I have to ride regardless.
I couldn’t face starting again. This time with my child, which is a million times harder. The guilt I felt was intense. Was it my fault? Are my genes to blame? I couldn’t see a way of coping other than going on auto pilot.
“This time, I have to be the strong one” I thought to myself multiple times a day. I had little people who were scared, counting on me. I had a point to prove to people at work that I wasn’t unreliable and I was grateful beyond words for the opportunity they had given me.
I knew I had to keep spinning the plates, not letting any fall. The parties, the after school clubs, the train journeys, the chemo, the heartbreaking conversations, the appointments, the millions of tests…. I was juggling a hundred different things while going at a million miles per hour… because I had to.
Until I realised that I couldn’t. I physically couldn’t. Something had to give and if it didn’t, everything would crash around me. I felt defeated. Again. That oh so familiar feeling.
I needed to stop.
I’ve had a few weeks to think, to process my thoughts. I’ve started counselling to help me with my jumbled up thoughts and overwhelming feeling of guilt that I can’t shift. I have been to my GP to get some tablets to help me sleep and help with my anxiety.
I am more than this. I deserve more than this. I am a work in progress.
I have my long awaited appointment in 2 weeks and regardless of Ellis’ situation, I am going to turn and up finally close the door on that chapter of my life. I have recognised that in order to be in a good place for Ellis and the girls, I need to be in a good place myself.
So here’s to Cancer not winning. It never did. No matter how hard it tried, how hard it pushed me back down, I’m here.
And I’m fucking ready to fight it again, this time with a bigger army behind me 🖕🏻💪🏻