Guess Who’s Back… Back Again

After eight long, confusing months, I finally reached out to my former therapist who left me high and dry when he left ol SBL! He agreed to take me back on as a patient, through telehealth services, so I wouldn’t have to drive to his new, much farther away, office.

My first visit with him was this week and I was so excited! Finally, some much needed answers and advice- or at least that’s what I was hoping for. In years past (meaning the last five years), he has never told me what I wanted to hear, rather than telling me what I needed to hear. Why I thought this visit would be any different is beyond me! I guess I was hoping he’d let me play the cancer card and take it easy on me. Boy, was I wrong! If anything, I think he was tougher on me. But, realistically, that’s what I needed. I needed the slap in the face. I needed a good dose of the real world, because I’ve been living in a made-up, bubble-wrapped world for the last couple of months. I live under a rock, and if it weren’t for Jacob’s obsession with Fox News, I would have no idea what is even going on outside of 511 County Road.

In my initial email to him, pleading he take me back, I used the phrase, “I am really struggling through this diagnosis.” So of course, he asked what I am struggling with. Pfft, like I wanted to answer that! But if I’m being transparent (which is what this blog is for), I am struggling with everyone saying how strong I am and what an inspiration I am. There isn’t a single strong bone in my body, and nothing about the way I’ve approached this is inspiring. Yall… I cry. A lot. And I am in a bitter/foul mood… a lot.

I am weak. Every third week I text Jake while he’s at work saying I’m done or I’m giving up. This shit is HARD. Way harder than I was ever ready for and still harder than I can handle. I am by no means an inspiration. I am pathetic! I lay in bed for 72 hours at a time, I have pressure sores on my back and legs, I constantly pick at the scabs on my scalp, and I can’t just leave well enough alone!

My house is a cluttered mess; borderline an episode of hoarders, with paths to walk through from room to room. My life is a mess too! What few friendships I have left, I try to sabotage with my over-thinking and over-reacting. There is not a single thing about any of this I would classify as “strong” or “inspiring.” A joke, maybe. Humorous, for sure! And let’s add a dash of psycho just for fun!

But when we get down to the root of all this, it turns out I am just angry. I am so angry this hand was dealt to me. I am angry my life got put on hold. I am angry my girls have to watch this. I am angry Jake has to watch this. I am angry I can’t get out of bed most days. I am angry that I am weak and want to give up. I am angry I let myself get depressed again. I am angry I get angry. I am angry that I cry all the time. But I hide this anger with humor and jokes. It’s the only way I know how to keep moving forward. I play the cancer card a lot more than I probably should, and make more jokes than is probably socially acceptable. Humor is my coping mechanism. As is sarcasm. Which at some point the combination of these two will probably get me in trouble… or make me a lot of money!

Keep your eyes out for my new book, coming Fall 2024. See what I did there!