Some days I swear I’m moving backwards in time.
I don’t mean health wise–as in when I was cancer free and never dreamed I’d get it. That would be a nice problem to have–but no..
I mean emotionally.
Lately I have been strangely pubescent in moods. I’m fine. Then I’m sad. I’m happy. Then I’m upset. At whom is usually the other crazy thing–at people whom I love and who love me.
People who have been nothing but generous and kind, thoughtful and helpful. Folks who have my best interests at heart 24/7 who, if they knew they’d offended me, would be devastated. I look at these folks and think, “Ann, all is well. There’s nothing wrong here. It’s just your life. Your life is f-cked up with this cancer and you can’t possibly expect smooth sailing all the time.”
And I reply, “I know, I know–but why can’t I stop feeling like crap?” And I say back, “I don’t know but get a grip. You must. So maybe your peeps make minor verbal faux pas’ that they don’t know bother you. Tell them and they’ll stop.”
“No, I can’t,” I retort, mad at me for not understanding this cancer space I’m stuck in that forces 95 percent of this awkward, awful headspace into my brain. “I can’t say anything because a) I don’t understand it myself and b) if I try to explain then my pals will walk on egg shells around me afterwards, worried they’ll mess up. I can’t have that–that’s like another kind of cancer, a social cancer, where you’re something nobody wants to be around.”
“Alllrighty then,” I stare at myself, one eyebrow up and the other hovering over my other disbelieving-what-it’s-hearing eye. “I think you need to take a holiday. Step off, step out–get away from yourself for a while. You’re going crackers.”
“Yeah, that’s genius,” I think sarcastically. ”Thanks for the hot tip. Like I didn’t know that. I came here for answers. You don’t have answers, you have observations. I already know I’m spinning out. I need help to slow the hell down.”
“Well,” I say out loud at me, taking stock in the fact that I’m actually talking to myself–”if I don’t have the answers, who does?”
Of course there is counseling. Of course I will figure this out, eventually. But lately, this maze of myself has been a hard puzzle to move through–and that’s where the conversation ends today.
And that’s where it begins all over again tomorrow.