I had my first haircut today! My hair is obviously very short, much greyer than before, on top particularly, fluffy like baby hair, but long enough for a trim :). And it looks great actually – slightly wavy on top so I may get my curly hair wish.

Not sure I dare tempt fate and say it, but the really thick part of the haze seems to be lifting. I stayed out of bed yesterday until 6pm – a miracle – and managed to do a few things. I’m tired today as lots of disrupted sleep, but don’t feel, so far anyway, like I may collapse in a heap. And that’s after bringing kids to school and going for a haircut – yup, minor things I know, but major for me after the last couple of weeks. 

Had a sort of argument with The Man yesterday – have actually had a couple recently where I haven’t gone off into the deep end in full psycho mode. A very big change. It’s quite interesting – he really has never seen me minus cancer and chemo – we’ve often talked about the ‘real’ me for lack of a better term. One thing that’s driven me absolutely insane is that I have always had to ensure things between us are sorted out no matter what because I have not been emotionally stable enough to hold any sort of distance when there is tension. I would completely lose it and also deal with the waves of insecurity which have been a nightmare. Seemingly I can hold it now….not sure I won’t metaphorically kick his head in when we do connect again (psycho mode clearly not fully gone) but I am able to hold this space right now and that feels really good in terms of feeling empowered and getting back to myself again. 

All of these things are glimpses into life without cancer and its treatments. As is the constant sense of sadness – melancholy I think more. It’s been 8 months since I was diagnosed – I have a picture on my phone of me at Pride with the kids last June, just before I found out. And it always makes me sad. Yes, why the fuck I keep it as my locked screen photo is beyond me as well. I think to remind me what I was like and how happy I was – not so I can commit suicide now, but rather to remind me I will be again. Or else to indulge my inner masochist. My life has been and remains so incredibly different since that photo was taken. The enormity of the differences, not all of which are negative, is overwhelming. And that is coming from someone who does major life changes as a hobby. 

I think the crux of the difference is that I had re-found joy for the first time in a very long time. I was thrilled to be in London, loving the work I was doing then despite the uncertainty, the kids (all 3) were thriving, I was dating (read shagging) like mad for the first time in years, ditto re finally getting fit and I was for the most part buzzing. I felt alive, vibrant, attractive, excited, exciting and full of optimism. Nothing like a cancer diagnosis and 6 months of chemo to knock all of that out of you. I was about to write ‘and that kills me’: however, it clearly doesn’t. But it does break my heart. 

It’s been something that has constantly been a hurting point – to have had all of that knocked out of me when I had only recently just found it all again. There is something about it I need to land – and move on from. As I’m writing I’m getting an inkling of where at least some of it is coming from: it’s touching an old, raw part of me from my past. Which is useful because it will help me move forwards if I understand it. And no, I won’t be back in that place again, but I can create a new joyful place. Once I’m not so fucking tired all the time.