I'm sure it was only a few hours ago I was saying everything was splendid and now you'd think I was an entirely different person. I don't know what's wrong with me. As soon as I stop and I'm left alone, if I let my mind wander for more than 30 seconds I seem to descend into maddening panic. I had gone to bed because I was sick of myself then my friend called me. She's depressed. It's something she battles with and I tried to pay enough attention to be useful. It's not like the world stops turning just because I'm trying to ward off another session of nonsensical fear and I'm supposed to be her best friend I ought to support her. I suggested she see her GP to change her medication, offered support and the such. She's barely spoken to me since she found out I had cancer because I think, despite her repeatedly telling me now she's more than capable of dealing with it, it scares her and she's not equipped to keep anyone else going. She's the same person who told me the day I received the diagnosis that I'd be dead within 3 months and whilst that isn't true, it's not something I'm likely to forget in a hurry.
She asked me how I was. I told her I was worried about the radiotherapy being delayed and tried to keep the rest to myself. I feel crazy. I just want to reach in and take the cancer out myself. Honestly, if I wasn't as sane as I am I think I might even think that was the solution. I keep looking at it growing on me like I'm mutating and I hate it. It's ugly and I'm angry with it. The scar isn't even that big but I hate it. I'm actually angry with my arms. That's just moronic! Keeping busy is a brilliant way of coping until you realise you've stopped and none of the things in your head have gone away.
I daren't tell anyone the extent of the worry, I just put a positive spin on it when I see people I know. There's maybe two people off the top of my head that have been able to keep it together and haven't ended up needing me to support them instead and one of them is 350 miles away so she's a little far to reach out to and just tell her I'm not doing so well right now. Anyway I think if I told them I might never stop and then I'd probably not see them for dust and then who'd be left? Just the ones that do their best but need my reassurance that I'm going to be OK. Not that I'd blame them for running. Who wants someone else's darkest thoughts aimed at them? I've gone too far already and I don't want to lose anyone else. I know the rational part of me says that you can't help how people react. They don't mean anything by it and I'm probably really annoying to be around because I can't help but make jokes about it all the time or being distracted by it or just looking like I was hit in the face with a chair because it's like my brain has cancer lift music on repeat in the background and I can't always ignore it.
It's not like I think anything awful is going to happen to me but I can't talk to Hairy about what's going on because he crumbles and his distress just makes it worse. I know he'd be gutted if he knew I thought that but the fact is he can't really deal with this because it's too hard and I don't really blame him. He's going out a lot to help his friends so he gets to avoid the situation a lot. Don't get me wrong, he comes to all my appointments and holds my hand but he lost his mum. He's not really equipped to help me either. I can't stand the idea of falling apart in front of a stranger so therapy isn't really as effective as it ought to be. I really wonder if I'm just emotionally stunted sometimes.
The people who want to hear me tell them I'm actually bricking it because I can't believe this has happened to me and I don't understand why, are the same people I'd never dream of telling because they either only want to know because they want something interesting to talk about or because they need to feed off it to use as a reason for their own emotional turmoil.
I keep focusing on the practicalities of it and trying to ignore the bigger picture. It's like I keep telling myself it isn't serious but then I have to remind myself that if it wasn't serious they'd hardly be telling me that I need treatment and countless appointments with various people would they?
I feel adrift and I'm so angry for even being panicked and upset. I saw this thing where an alien had taken over a person and it reminded me of invasion of the body snatchers which set me off again. What the hell is wrong with me? What kind of person freaks out at fictional aliens?
My friend told me she thinks that by keeping so busy all the time, even when I'm ill, I don't give myself time to confront the feelings and so I crash and maybe she's right but I'm not sure what the alternative is. Am I supposed to just sit at home and cry until I run out of tears? Surely the only result of that is one bugger of headache. Yet here I am, balling my eyes out at my computer screen because I don't know who I'm supposed to tell or what I'd even say if I was brave enough to tell someone who loves me that right now I'm having a moment and I'm really really irrationally and annoyingly sad.
I'm sad that some of my best friends won't even talk to me, that my mother is treating me like I've got something dirty, that I'm putting people through worry when I'm not even that ill at the moment and that I can't just reconcile my rational thoughts with my emotions. Maybe it's just because I'm over tired and not well and spent the last two days with wonderful friends who are doing their best to help me but who were quite clearly really uncomfortable with the fact I was bringing this into their lives. Maybe it's because I really am struggling more than I want to admit and the hole I'm digging for myself is just a little too deep to climb out of this evening.
I feel a bit lonely too but I'm not sure why. Seriously, I am so over reacting right now. I want to turn off this feeling and be someone else now please. I'm supposed to be thrilled that it was caught early, not hysterical because it happened in the first place. I hardly ever cry. I really hate it and I think that's half as upsetting as anything else. God I sound so bloody pathetic. I hate taking the victim role, it reminds me of my mother and makes me worry I'll end up the same as her. I just paint a smile on my face and carry on.
And now Hairy is home, so that's what I'll go and do.
