I have often have these daydreams about what my life would be like if I could do or say whatever I wanted. Less like a vision and more of a fantasy.
This week I keep wondering, what if I just said no? No, I will not continually ask you how high when you tell me to jump. No, I will not re-work my entire schedule to get in for a colonoscopy because you and your fancy degree have deemed it “urgent.” No, I will not offer another blood or fecal sample. No, I will not take your plan, whatever letter we are on now, meds. In this week’s flipped reality, I am a girl emblazoned with a mission.
Except…treatment isn’t a forgone conclusion. To be a warrior, to be a fighter, to be a survivor, this is how the game is played: they demand and we give — until there is nothing left.
After all, we need the cure. We need the help. We need the meds. We need the answers. We, we, we… Usually, this is the point in my pie-in-the-sky musings where the top spins off the table and lands with a sickening crack.
I have spent so much time feeling like I need to keep it together; to be strong for the boys, for Jon, for my co-workers, for my family, but really I think I need to stay strong for myself. Because if I fall apart, that’s it.
Well, if there is one thing I have learned through this flair, hiding your pain doesn’t make you noble, it makes you a coward. And I am tired of being a coward.
So world, here I am. All messy, tired, puffy-eyed, sleep-deprived, worry-lined, me. I will tell you I am fine, but really I’m not.
I will be though. I’ll allow myself tonight, to dwell, to cry, to believe my worrying changes everything.
Tomorrow, well tomorrow is a new day.