“And there’s your next blog…!”
After my latest session with my therapist, he encouraged me to share my feelings on my own answer to “Why me?”
This isn’t a Hallmark movie, and there isn’t any big revelation or inspiring message. That’s just not how my life works. We actually both agreed I’ve already had my life-changing moment, five years ago, when I first sought out his help and wanted to better my mental health. I accepted my diagnoses and genuinely wanted the tools to help me cope and move forward in my life. Over the span of five years, I’ve learned so much about having bipolar disorder, borderline personality disorder, obsessive–compulsive personality disorder (OCPD), and intermittent explosive disorder (IED). In fact, had I not been receiving counseling prior to my cancer diagnosis, I’m not sure I would have handled it “as well” as I did.
Now listen, I’m not saying I handled it well. I cried, a lot. I was angry, a lot. I was in denial, a lot.
Here’s the truth (may it be ugly and unappealing to my fairytale-chasers): I accepted getting cancer as a cause and effect type of thing, or as my fellow Swifties might coin it- Karma. Because I made poor choices in my life, I got cancer. Whether it be the impulse spending/gambling, manic episodes, episodes of rage… because I did irrational things and acted in such ways, I got cancer. Because I hated people and said horrible things about them, I got cancer. What goes around, comes around. Right?
Cancer is my punishment. There is nothing brave, strong, or inspiring about my journey. It’s karma!
I deserved to get cancer.
Is this realistic? No. But it is how I answer and accept the “Why me?”
And maybe, just maybe, because I got cancer, someone else didn’t. Maybe this is the inspiring piece I’m looking for. Maybe it’s how I sleep at night. Because I got cancer, my mom didn’t. Because I got cancer, my dad didn’t. Because I got cancer, my daughters, my brother, my in-laws (whoops, Britani, not you!) and Jake didn’t.
Also not completely realistic, but when going through something this devastating, I think having any reasoning in your head helps.
I know everyone’s diagnosis is different and their feelings and coping mechanisms are individualized. I know others don’t feel or think the same way as me, but I also believe that is 100% ok. That makes us who we are.
And this is my first rodeo! I don’t have a guide book and have no idea what the hell I’m doing! I have no idea how I’m supposed to feel, no idea what I am supposed to do, how I’m supposed to act. Do I care entirely too much what people think? Yep!
But just yesterday while at work, a colleague reminded me how much people do appreciate the truth and being real, so that’s what I’m trying my best to do.
Did I handle everything perfectly over the last five months? Oh gosh, no! I still lay in bed worrying about the thank-you cards I didn’t write, the texts I didn’t respond to, the updates I didn’t give and the friends I ignored. But I’m also allowing myself just a little bit of grace as we navigate these unknown territories!
While I say 2023 was hell (and it absolutely was) I think it was the easy part, so to speak. 2024 is going to be much harder for me. I don’t have a weekly routine of getting the horrible drugs that make me better. I’m not actively fighting this cancer, but instead worrying about if/when it’s going to come back. I’m back to work… for a month… then off again for surgery, then back again… which comes with all the worry and anxiety. 2024 brings trying to find a new normal, and if anyone can tell me what that new normal will look like, please– the floor is yours! 2024 will challenge me to find who I am now and want to be going forward. At what point do I stop saying, “I have cancer,” and also… at what point am I not allowed to use the excuse, “But I have cancer”?
2024 might be challenging, but at least we’re past the hell! Cheers to the New Year!
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