It's Okay To Be Weak

Well friends, we have yet to hear back about the third party results, which is just fine with me. For the first time in a long time I'm not anxious to hear the outcome. I just want to relax and not worry, and breathe, and live. I don't have the discipline that I used to. I am unable to restrict my diet, and am unable to rigorously exercise. I do not have the drive that I once had, which was born out of fear. The unfortunate thing is that fear was a bear, chasing me through the forrest, and without that same neurotic stress, I am unable to rise to the challenge of forgoing food, or drink, of pushing my body to extreme lengths for cardio or weights. I walk often and try to jog every once in awhile. I hit the sauna here and there, but I am in a state of relaxation, both mentally and physically. I am literally enjoying every moment. I spent years, several years, after diagnosis, trying wild extreme diets, taking hundreds of pills a day, trying random and scientific based treatments, and I'm tired. I don't have it in me anymore.

I honestly don't know how I ever restricted myself so diligently, so harshly. I'm just bone tired. But I'm happy. I'm thicker, and I don't love that, but I don't have the heart to discipline.

It's embarrassing that I can't practice what I preach, but it's the truth. It has been over 68 months since I was diagnosed, and 65 of those I was on crazy cancer diets. At times it has been a complete obsession. And when it wasn't an obsession it was the root of shame due to moments of failure, or stress from expectation. Living with cancer is living in a vortex. You're here but you're not. You're alive but every decision could lead to your death. Your stakes are impossibly higher than everyone else. I sometimes hear people say things like, "We're all dying." And I think, "What an asshole. Just shut up" The only people who say that are people who aren't in the vice of death's grip, or they're already diagnosed but trying to make other people feel better. There is nothing like living with cancer. You're supposed to just be happy to be alive, yet you're living in a slaughterhouse hearing the screams of your cancer family as they make it to the kill floor. You're being shuffled closer sometimes, and at other times you get shoved out of the way only to lose the friend next to you. It is a terrible emotional state that completely effs your brain. After years of this madness, it has taken such a toll on me that I can't bring myself to live in a state of constant battle. It's just too much. My stomach is so weak now from the years of drugs and supplements that I regularly vomit from queasiness. Last night my head may as well have been spinning, possessed, with horizontal projections - all from an off-label that I have been taking for almost a year. Dan was so terrified that he almost stayed home from work today to make sure I was okay. At a certain point you have to stop. Or at minimum take a break. My body can not take what it once did. Unfortunately, she never ceases to let me know.

I still eat quite healthy, sometimes less healthy (or worse yet much much less healthy) than at other times in my cancer journey, but as I have evolved I've realized that not only has my brain changed, and views changed, my physiology has changed, and my attitude has changed. Every single person in life has their journey. I have absolutely no idea what the purpose of my life is, other than to share my story, and let people know that we are inherently strong, but we should know that sometimes it's okay to be weak too.

Sometimes we ride, and sometimes we carry.