Tuesday, October 13, 2015

Impending MRI Impending Life

I don't want to share this. I don't want to say it. I hate that I have to release, but the truth is that I can't handle my feelings. I have best friends, and I know that they would do anything for me. They know that I hurt, but they don't know my pain because I can't tell anyone, not even them. I've never told anyone how I badly I hurt. The pain of this, the diagnosis, the hamster wheel I live on. I give pieces to Dan, to my mom, to my dad, but if I gave any one person my whole sadness, it would be the meanest gift, and I refuse. Yet here I am, I can't stand it anymore. But it's a choice to read; close the window if it's too much.

I would rather cry alone, than burden my friends. I would rather hurt, and sob, by myself, because my friends have their own lives. No one's life is easy. It has taken me years to understand that, but I get it now. I'm a ghost that is here, but that doesn't live. People see me, or my hologram, but they don't know me. I just float.

I was meant to be a mother. I was meant to be a mom. What is my life without that? I found the most kind, handsome, generous, thoughtful, fantastic, man, but he always expected a family too. But now he worries about me. ME. He should have kids by now, he should have that beautiful love from his own children, that sticky snot filled, accidental wet bed, picky eating life, and I can't give that to him. And what is a life without children? Seriously, to those of you who read this, can you imagine your life without your kids? 

That is the life I live every day, that deep sadness. A life where I try to trick myself into happiness. "Hooray, I'm alive." And yes, of course, I should be happy that I'm alive, but what is this? I'm helping other people function in their own families. I'm helping mothers and fathers, born and unborn, and I have become this au pair for cancer patients, for cancer families, yet here I am, unable to have my own life. I hang on the edge of despair, worrying about my cancer friends, but I need to take care of myself and I hate that I can't compartmentalize. But I can't. So I just live sad. I live on anti-anxiety pills. I wonder how I'm even supposed to help because I'm nothing special, just a talker. I'm a not a specialist. I'm not a doctor. 

I've devoted myself so fully to help others, but I need to start focusing on what it means to be 35, without children, barely able to pay for our cancer treatments. I am an educated woman, with degrees, but I bought into what the doctors said about the fact that I would die immanently. So I've been in a mad dash to help others survive, but how am I going to live long term with my treatment responsibilities? I can't just take care of everyone else. And, how do I live my own life? And how do I make Danny's dreams come true? I feel so responsible. I feel overwhelmed. I feel sad. And I wonder what the point of this life is. I have watched others die for various reasons and its all confusing and messed up and it had nothing to do with working hard, or being a good person. I am not here right now because I'm somehow significantly better than anyone else on earth. 

So I just do my best. But what do you do when you know you can't give your husband children. That you've just isolated him. Danny should not be an old man without a family. Without children. Without that special, magical love. So yes, I am alive. I'm alive longer than I technically should have been, but, is this the life I would want for him? Never.

Here I am being grossly honest, and confused. What shall I do with my life? What will I be if not a mother? My heart breaks every day. I cry every day, whether its internal or literal. The worst thing is making others feel uncomfortable, so I try to hide it, dsguise my pain.

But it's the truth. And it hurts me to be real, but I will know in two weeks if my brain tumor is growing again or not, and sometimes I wonder, when I feel this despair, will it really matter? In the sliding door of life, what would be best for Dan?

5 comments:

  1. Oh dear Jessica,
    How so many of us out here reading your blog wish we could take away the pain you are feeling. People can't understand how you feel until it happens to them, until they experience the pain. Even then everyone will have different feelings and reactions to their experience.
    Don't close off your feelings to your family who love you. Share with them Jessica, they can handle it because they love you. Your precious Dan loves you !!
    Life is not always fair. My son died a month before he turned 3. God has a reason for allowing things to happen. We may never understand it while we are here on this earth,. I do not know nor can begin to understand your journey. I do know that giving up the dream of how we thought our lives would be or how things would turn out is not easy. There are times when the wish that it was different becomes overwhelming. We are human beings not robots without feelings.
    Your feelings are legitimate and there is no one who loves you that would deny you how you feel. They can't "fix" you but they can help carry you carry your load.
    Bless you precious Jessica, your Dan and family

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  2. Thank you so much for sharing, Coconuts, Sometimes the platitudes of being strong when facing trials exasperate me. I just asked Wacky the other day why people don't just say how stinking crappy it can be? It isn't easy to verbalize feelings of despair, pain, being overwhelmed, etc. How can you NOT have these feelings?
    Always remember, Danny chose YOU. Unconditionally. With our without children. With or without good health. He chose YOU. Let him have that choice without regrets. That is where the real magical love resides. That's the cool thing about love - you don't ever run out of it to share or give or receive - it's limitless, powerful, healing.
    We can do very little while supporting those we love to ease their burdens. But what we can do is keep listening and assure you we aren't going anywhere; there isn't anything you can do or say that will break the bond you made with each one of us. Because we chose YOU.
    May our prayers for peace find your heart and mind and strength to take it moment by moment until your MRI. As you breathe in to find some sort of serenity within, know that this camp mama loves you very, very much.

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  3. Jess - I am sorry for the pain you are feeling and glad you can be truthful and authentic with us. There is a quote from Richard Bach that came to mind..."The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but one of respect and joy in each other's life. Rarely do members of one family grow up under the same roof."
    I suppose there are a lots of kinds of love in the world...shallow love, cheap love, perceived love, conditional love, but what you and Danny have is what most people in the world dream of and long to find... you have true love, unconditional love. You have inspired so many people to know what great love is all about. True, deep, unconditional love must be the soul-gold of life, what we're really here for. Your example has awakened in many others the potential, of where love can take a person. I think Danny is a very lucky man to have the privilege of living beside someone as beautiful, wise, insightful, resilient, generous, caring and wonderful as you in all your strengths and all your vulnerabilities and weaknesses, you are an extraordinary person. Sending you peace, gratitude, healing, acceptance of this wild and imperfect life. love, C

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  4. I think of you often and hold you and your extended family in my heart and prayers. My Sweetie didn't often express his deepest feelings and fears, and although that protected me somewhat, I still feel awful that he held so much in. Please keep sharing as much as your comfort allows--you have surrounded yourself with people who care and love you, and have likely become stronger because of you.

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  5. Dear Jessica, thank you for this post. It is so raw, so deep, so spot on, so sad and yet so beautiful and liberating. Your ability to be vulnerable, truly honest to the core, brings us closer to you and you closer to us. Thank you for taking the risk to put yourself out there. Your honesty is a gift us all, and it makes the world a more loving place because it's courageous people like you that give permission to the rest of us to open up and share in our own struggles! I cannot tell you how many times I have written my deepest fears, hardest emotions and most honest thoughts, only to be scared to publish them where eyes can see. I understand your pain, and the deep loneliness that goes with it. I understand your fears and emotions and the confusion that goes with it. No, I'm not in your shoes, so I will never understand the way you do, but I can relate and empathize (to the best of my ability) because the depth of your amazing writing and the honesty that you share hits home with how I've felt in my hardest times. How can life be so hard and scary yet so beautiful at the same time? Is is always going to be like this? Is this all even real, sometimes it feels like a (bad/hard) dream! I've literally had days where I've felt the greatest love and rewards that life can offer while simultaneously being paralyzed with fear and anxiety from my own physical/emotional struggles. Finally, as a word of encouragement, I want to assure you that you will not always feel as deeply sad as you do now. A wise and loving woman once told me "Honey, you don't need to try to make your depression go away. Let it be what it is. Honor it and honor what your depression is trying to tell you. Mourn. Cry out every last tear. And then let is be. When it is ready, it will move on, trust me, it will move on." And she was right. Nothing lasts forever, even when a sadness as deep as yours has lasted for year and years, trust that it will eventually move on once its run its course. Endless blessings, joy, healing, good fortune and peace to you. Keep writing. We want to hear. <3

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