Saturday, November 24, 2018

Cry

Day +1507: 

It’s often hard to adequately describe what November’s are like for me since his diagnosis. I spent that first Thanksgiving by his side at UTSW, also my birthday that year, while we watched via FB our family road trip to MN for a family gathering. It was really hard. On so many levels. 




Yet the years since almost grow in emotion for me, both ends of the spectrum. I long for simple, quiet, lovely. But the whole month of November is just a lot of hard memories and it’s gone from my absolute favorite month of the year, to my least. Both from the first admit and diagnosis to the first month home after transplant the next year, I have lost my love of this time of year., replaced with resolve to just make it through.

Side note:  Your brain holds on to negative experiences more.  We've had some greatness during November as well, but by brain likes to get overloaded with the tough stuff.  

Last week, in doing some cleaning, I came upon a box of cards from 5 years ago. It was so bittersweet. And clearly a reason why cleaning is a bad move! I sat there, reading each one. A box I had kept stored away for all this time. 

And the tears flowed and flowed and have kept coming all week. 

I really meant to thank people more, clearly, since I also found dozens of blank thank you notes alongside all your cards. So, please know those cards still mean a lot to our experience and healing and I had very good intentions. 




There are so many articles written about the patient. How cancer effects don’t  stop past remission and how the emotional toll is still carried. And I worry so much about this for Wil...all the freaking time...that the ongoing toll for this post-caregiving wife, sneaks up on me during these anniversary months. I’m very good at “keep on keeping on” days. But this week of Thanksgiving I realized what a toll that takes on a marriage when you don’t let your partner take up the slack. And when you don’t let yourself sit in the feelings. 

To be honest, our marriage is not perfect and cancer has taken a toll, especially lately. We are no more a poster couple than anyone else. And we, like I’m assuming by the stats, aren’t alone. Illness makes relationships more stressful. Why aren’t most people talking about it? It’s just one more painful thing to be vulnerable about (and be judged by) when the rest of your tribe wants to see that you are perfectly well and stable.  And happy.  It's a bummer, but I really value honesty, so I am trying to be more transparent here while still being respectful to everyone else. 

Side note:  Our love is not smoke and mirrors. It’s real. It’s just that our mutual pain and unshared experiences make healing feel like an unchoreographed cirque du soleil show on speed (let’s face it, our journeys are so different. And not in sync on hardly any front, ever!);  We are two imperfect people struggling along at the same time in very different directions and speeds. The pressure to appear OK and “blessed” at all times is overbearing if you don’t monitor it closely. I preach it y'all but I still fall victim to it.  Blessed is not pain free. Pain is useful if handled with care and attention. 

So, other than my near perfect dogs I’m obsessed with, that’s what I’m most thankful for right now. The big shifts of emotions and pain. Pain?  Yes. Pain that I couldn’t sit with before because we were busy surviving. New life comes through pain. Growth comes with pain. So I’m sitting this month and maybe next month. Maybe the next year. I’ve told my pain I’m here and I’m not leaving until all the books and crannies are heard and loved. I’m crying again which I haven’t been able to do in quite some time. I’m evaluating. I’m trying to lay down the struggle and just let it flow. Figuring out who I am in this life post-caregiving. According to society I should celebrate getting fired from that gig. Right?  I’m here to tell you it’s still a loss. Especially since you’re not transported back to life pre-cancer once the caregiving ends. Especially since you mostly just feel lost and alone in the experience of caregiving to begin with...and apparently end with...





I know it doesn’t make sense to everyone.  Wil has said it doesn’t even make sense to him. And he’s pretty good about trying to get it.  I know it may not be apparent to just anyone. Until this week it was only partially apparent to me. And life is a mix always...I’m just a mere human making my way through this next segment like so many others, I’m sure. Maybe it’s my upcoming birthday. Maybe it’s the anniversaries. Maybe it’s the drama that I’m too exhausted to fight with anymore. But I’m feeling ready to just be actively broken and not try to pretty it up for anyone.  Maybe even say “I need to be taken care of too?”  

Perhaps this whole past year I’ve been gearing up to the this holiday week breakdown where I finally just metaphorically lay myself on the ground in fetal position and be swallowed up in post-grief-grief (I just made that up. But it’s certainly a new level of grief to wade through, past the cancer stuff). It’s the only way I think I’ll be able to get through to the next layer of life. I’m keeping faith that I’ll salvage real relationships with the people who get it, including Wil. 

November has had enough drama for me for a lifetime and this week really cemented by resolve to stop carrying all the perceived failures. Mistakes?  I’ve got plenty. I just don’t need to fix anyone else’s or beg to be loved by doing or being anything I’m not. 

Let this be the year for some cleansing. And maybe, some more writing. 


Much ❤️