All week people keep saying to me, “Well, you’ve been through a lot,” or “It’s okay to feel crappy considering what you’ve been through.”
First of all: What the hell does anyone else know about what I’ve been through? Only I really know, and other women who’ve battled breast cancer and done chemo have a pretty fuckin good idea, but everyone else is just guessing and I’m gonna make my own guess that they are really far off from how it all actually went down. No it wasn’t a fucking picnic and it wasn’t nearly as fun as having the flu or food poisoning. Yes, it sucked ass but not in any way most people can compare to anything they’ve dealt with. Maybe soldiers in war can relate but the difference is my body tried killing me from the inside and I never signed up for that shit!
But that brings me to the second point: I don’t wanna hear about it! I know what I’ve been through and I am still going through it and the last thing I wanna do is think about how shitty it is. I wanna keep that shit in me a little longer so that when it finally bursts out I’ll be prepared and in a safe place to deal with it. That is far from where I’m at now in my shit-hole apartment in Brooklyn with my control-freak-psycho-mood-swing roommate fucking with my head left and right; that’s where I was while I went through it & it’s where I still am while I’m still going through it, so I’m in no place to be reminded how hard it is cause this place has only made it harder.
So to maintain what sanity I have left, and to survive the approaching surgery and terror of living beyond cancer and everything that fucking entails, I would happily like to have my peace and my cozy moments and not be reminded that I just returned from war because I’m not there yet. I know I’m out and I’m okay, but I’m not entirely okay and I will never really be out. So everyone else can cheer for my victory on the side lines but I’m still in the game and the game is not over.