Wednesday, March 30, 2011
The aftermath of cancer and the realization of surviving something so enormous is often overwhelming. I find myself spending days battling with each part of myself. One side is this wounded child who needs constant comfort and attention, the other side is this strong adult who wants to defend against injustice. Lately they have become rather extreme, often feeding each other. The adult protects the child in a way I never got as a child. But who is caring for the adult? And where is the balance? This is a fear that goes beyond just average fear; that I may never find that balance or anything resembling a comfortable life. As much as I despise complacency I sometimes want to embrace it if for no other reason than to feel less alone and less isolated and less judged by others. There is no one I fully trust in this world. All I want to do right now is scream and kick, but the adult keeps telling me to settle down. I want a mom to cuddle me and read me a story, but I am 35 years old. It's like age (and societal norms) robs us of our natural animal tendencies. It's not easy to deal with life when you spend each day thinking about death. I feel trapped. Every day I keep hoping to escape but to be honest, it is me that is my own captor and it is me that is my own cell. How do I let go of 35 years of me? And what happens when I do?