Describes me pretty well today…

This ‘putting your life back together/rebuilding/decluttering/totally fucking changing your life’ post cancer is another sort of rollercoaster, but a rolleroaster nonetheless.

I am alive. And my god, (not sure I have a god, but…) that is good. Yet another of my nemesis (what’s the plural of nemesis…is there a plural?!!) I have faced and come out the other side smiling. Abso-fucking-lutely incredible. I have had a lifelong terror of early death – yes, I appreciate the irony of that coming from someone who loves war zones. But choosing to risk my life is very different – I weigh it up and make a conscious choice for what I believe are valid and thought out reasons. Cancer is very, very different – no choice involved. A few times in the last year I prepared to die, and as much as one can, I came to terms with it. 

I realised last week I really had faced the fear part. I was talking to someone who asked if I was now in remission. I trotted out my usual: I don’t use the term remission as it has very negative connotations blah, blah. So we got onto the topic of positive mental attitude – her telling me about a friend who had breast cancer  and  she was super positive, even ran classes on that in a local cancer centre. Oh great say I, enthusiastically. Yes she says, however that friend died when the cancer came back and killed her. I didn’t miss a beat, looked at her in mild amusement and carried on. Again, yes she says, the cancer came back and killed her: it was very sad. The point of this, apart from people’s seemingly endless stupidity, is that I registered what she said both times and thought yes, that could also happen to me, but that is OK. I didn’t have the gut clenching fear I would have always had.

I have totally digressed, or perhaps just bringing myself back to important things. I am a bit of a mess today. Had an extremely intense long weekend with the man, issues that have been there pretty much since we met, but finally I dragged them out to the surface. And it turns out he’s been lying to me for the entire past year about something important. Something I kept picking up on and asking him about, which he denied and I kept feeling paranoid and inadequate. Sorry to be cryptic – it’s just too personal to go into more. The upshot is I lost it, like completely lost it, from midnight to 4am today. And then some more. 

It’s stupid to say it’s not fair, having cancer wasn’t fair, but this is not fucking fair. I don’t deserve this after the last year. I don’t deserve this while I am packing up my life, packing off my children, literally leaving myself homeless and counting down the days and weeks until I can actually draw breath and celebrate. 

I am raw. Deeply hurt. And not willing yet to lose him. I always walk away from men – I feel a part of me breaking and then I walk away and try to pick up the pieces. This time he has to try and fix the break since he broke it. I don’t know if he has the courage to do it. Bravery is allowing yourself to be yourself, facing your demons, admitting to yourself the truth. I know because I aspire to it every day. People always love the freedom in me, how real I am – and assume it’s just me. They choose not to see how intensely terrifying it can be, how the pain sometimes doubles me over, how the choices to be free are never easy. 

But he has to hold me through this. I cannot crack now. And I still love him. Not in a doormat way, but in a self honest way. And I have no idea if he will face up to himself and choose to be brave enough to be with me. I have no control over that and that is terrifying for me. 

I know I will be Ok, I know I am OK. I am just swinging between a massive range of emotions. Which will likely be improved when I get some sleep.