I don't know how to live this "new" life--if that is what you can call it. I don't know how to navigate this life. I feel like it's an accomplishment to just make it through the end of the day. This from a woman who used to consider herself to be strong, dependable, and capable. From an attorney who had big dreams and plans to make them come true. Now, I'm only a shell of the person I once was, going through the motions of life, living day-to-day because anymore than that is too overwhelming and the future is so uncertain.
I think that the uncertainty is one of the hardest things for me. I've always hated uncertainty and tried to find something in my life that I could control or at least have some hold on it. Right now I have neither. A friend said it well today. She said God took away her husband and then took away her hair and then her breasts. And I'll add that her took my life. My friends don't want to hear me say that because they think that I'll bounce back and be okay. They don't want to hear that I still may die from this disease or that my soul may never recover from this. They want me to move on and find happiness because they love me. But when I'm honest with myself I'm not sure that is ever going to happen. My fight is waning and the uncharted territory ahead is daunting. So for tonight, I will take a Xanax, breath in and breath out, and try not to think about tomorrow.
1 comment:
Hi, Lisa:
thanks for being so open about what so many survivors are afraid to voice.
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