Fighting for Them
At this point in my blogging experience, it's no secret about the guilt I've felt about my own diagnosis. For 7 months I've questioned myself, questioned how I could've done things differently; what if I had some blame in my own diagnosis? Could I really have caused this? The logical answer is 'No, you dumb bitch.', but emotionally my brain is clanging pots and pans in a red alarmed room and it is screaming frantically. Like I mentioned in my previous post, the stages of grief aren't linear, and you will go back and forth from time to time. The last few days have been one of those times. I've attempted to hide the fact that I've spent the last 3 days doing alot of thinking, and feeling alot lower than I've allowed myself to, but why?
It's because I feel like by feeling low, I'm letting everybody else down.
That may sound strange, but it is a genuine fear of mine. The last 7 months I have been met with multitudes of praise, lovingly so, and I'm constantly accredited for my 'bravery' throughout my entire journey, all of which I try to take with genuine love and selflessness. So much so, I have begun to hold myself to a higher standard when it comes to speaking out about my feelings, I don't want to give anyone a reason to think any less of me for feeling low. I've made it through 3 bouts of brain surgery, and my 6 weeks of radiotherapy come to a close in just 2 days; I'm officially halfway through my treatment now, and I handled it better than even I expected to. So what happened to me? I got tired. I fought this diagnosis for everyone around me, and didn't bear to think of myself and what I was genuinely going through, and I forgot about myself throughout this whole process.
When I showed up to my treatment sessions, I showed up because my radiographers had a clinic to adhere to. When I pushed myself out of bed, I did it because I wanted my family to feel like they could relax around me and think I was fine. When I went through all those surgeries, I did it because it was the easiest treatment for my family at that time. When I was one day out of surgery, I let everybody see me because I wanted them to see that I was okay and there was nothing to worry about. All this time I pushed through everything for my friends, my family, my boyfriend, and his family because this diagnosis made me see how others were affected. I didn't see myself. That was a mistake that I made. It was only a day ago I sat in my bed with Alfie and cried because I am scared, I'm fearful that treatment may not work and I don't know if I can collect the strength to do it all again. I finally let myself go, and it was something I needed to do. I needed to cry 3 separate times to get through my emotions, but I still did it. I am still learning, and I'm not ashamed of that. I will continue to fight for the people I love, but I will also hold my own hand when I need to, because I am the only one who can beat this. I may have an amazing support system, and an incredible care team of nurses and surgeons, but if I lose myself in this process then I cannot further my own progress, and I need to do this. I must remember that when I go to treatment, to therapy, to the shop around the corner, even when I go to the kitchen just to make myself some tea, I'm doing it because I deserve to. While my life may be forever changed, I owe myself a cup of tea when I want it, and it is up to me to continue my life and be as normal as I can; not for others, but for me. I'm living in spite of.
It was following a therapy session that I began to have this epiphany, my therapist recommended viewing this situation from another perspective. 'If it was your friend going through this, what would you say to them?'. It was this question that made me re-evaluate myself, had a friend gone through this I would've urged them to let their emotions out, because I know that withholding such strong emotions is a sure way to insanity, and I wouldn't think any less of them for feeling like a human being. It was my response that slapped me square in the face, shook me by the shoulders, and said 'Do you understand now?!'. Finally, I had made my next breakthrough. I was finally free to express my sorrows, and if I wouldn't judge a friend in this situation then why would a friend judge me? As I finished my session, I made myself that cup of tea and I was relieved. I had just gotten through a slump, a particularly scary slump yes, but it was something else I had gotten through, and the best part? I did it for me.
That may sound strange, but it is a genuine fear of mine. The last 7 months I have been met with multitudes of praise, lovingly so, and I'm constantly accredited for my 'bravery' throughout my entire journey, all of which I try to take with genuine love and selflessness. So much so, I have begun to hold myself to a higher standard when it comes to speaking out about my feelings, I don't want to give anyone a reason to think any less of me for feeling low. I've made it through 3 bouts of brain surgery, and my 6 weeks of radiotherapy come to a close in just 2 days; I'm officially halfway through my treatment now, and I handled it better than even I expected to. So what happened to me? I got tired. I fought this diagnosis for everyone around me, and didn't bear to think of myself and what I was genuinely going through, and I forgot about myself throughout this whole process.
When I showed up to my treatment sessions, I showed up because my radiographers had a clinic to adhere to. When I pushed myself out of bed, I did it because I wanted my family to feel like they could relax around me and think I was fine. When I went through all those surgeries, I did it because it was the easiest treatment for my family at that time. When I was one day out of surgery, I let everybody see me because I wanted them to see that I was okay and there was nothing to worry about. All this time I pushed through everything for my friends, my family, my boyfriend, and his family because this diagnosis made me see how others were affected. I didn't see myself. That was a mistake that I made. It was only a day ago I sat in my bed with Alfie and cried because I am scared, I'm fearful that treatment may not work and I don't know if I can collect the strength to do it all again. I finally let myself go, and it was something I needed to do. I needed to cry 3 separate times to get through my emotions, but I still did it. I am still learning, and I'm not ashamed of that. I will continue to fight for the people I love, but I will also hold my own hand when I need to, because I am the only one who can beat this. I may have an amazing support system, and an incredible care team of nurses and surgeons, but if I lose myself in this process then I cannot further my own progress, and I need to do this. I must remember that when I go to treatment, to therapy, to the shop around the corner, even when I go to the kitchen just to make myself some tea, I'm doing it because I deserve to. While my life may be forever changed, I owe myself a cup of tea when I want it, and it is up to me to continue my life and be as normal as I can; not for others, but for me. I'm living in spite of.
It was following a therapy session that I began to have this epiphany, my therapist recommended viewing this situation from another perspective. 'If it was your friend going through this, what would you say to them?'. It was this question that made me re-evaluate myself, had a friend gone through this I would've urged them to let their emotions out, because I know that withholding such strong emotions is a sure way to insanity, and I wouldn't think any less of them for feeling like a human being. It was my response that slapped me square in the face, shook me by the shoulders, and said 'Do you understand now?!'. Finally, I had made my next breakthrough. I was finally free to express my sorrows, and if I wouldn't judge a friend in this situation then why would a friend judge me? As I finished my session, I made myself that cup of tea and I was relieved. I had just gotten through a slump, a particularly scary slump yes, but it was something else I had gotten through, and the best part? I did it for me.
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