Things became too much this week. I had grand ideas for my free week with the kids.
Each day, we had a fun activity, usually free stuff I've found around the city. In between these events, I had some jobs - music jobs and law jobs. GIST cancer and its treatment has left me with physical pain and/or nausea every moment of every day, but it's become an afterthought. A get-up, shut-up, be happy you're alive thought. I figured I could do it all. There was a giant crash and burn. As one does, you get up, brush off, and do your best to see what went wrong and how to prevent that from happening again. The only other option is to sit in your bed and cry. I allow myself the time it takes to play through Tori Amos' "Silent all these years" approximately three times, and then my good cry must come to an end. (Ultimate cry songs - I am an expert in these).
At a certain point, when the excitement of the diagnosis and the surgery and its aftermath dies down, when your support system understandably returns to their own lives, you are left just as you were before: the same person with the same responsibilities, just with an added physical blow to your system. Maybe there is backed up work - people took time off to be with you and now have to work double. The stress these things put upon your family unit is intense. Sometimes you don't even realize how much the bow is bending until it breaks. And I have a pretty solid family unit. But there are days that are too much, where I can see that just as I felt the toll of this past year - so does my family. I feel responsible. The dangerous thought pattern of "why me? Why meeee?" threatens to knock you off your game.
You want to ride high for the rest of your second-chance life, that you are LUCKY and BLESSED to be alive. Yes, yes, and yes. I feel that at my core. But you can't sustain yourself on the fumes of positivity when the reality still stands that there are some fundamental changes that occurred, very quickly, very unexpectedly.
Sometimes I think I have not even addressed them.
All of my close friends and family know how I feel, what I look like on the days I've got Tori on repeat. What a joy I am to be around. But I put out a pretty good public front: I'm a rock star, don't you forget it.
I guess I want you to know, I'm not. Just a person trying to spin it all as best as I can. That IS pretty metal, true. But I don't do it all. Not even close.
Love and hugs to anyone who is rocking their best through life right now.