While I was waiting for the results of my CT scans, to see what happened with the metastasis in the liver, something changed in me. All this fear of hearing potential bad news rose to a point of no comparison. I feel like there was a string in my heart that got stretched way too far. And then, it broke.
From that moment, I cannot connect with my feelings as I did. I am constantly searching for distractions, whatever might keep my attention so I won't think about my condition.
Maybe a part of my soul switched off, trying to protect me from falling into pieces, from having a nervous breakdown.
Even though the news were encouraging, I will never be the same. I cannot talk any more of my pain and my fear because simply, the horror is too much to put into words. Only those that faced the same situation can understand. These are things that normally, no one touches in conversation, taboos. And yet, now I have to deal with it every day.
Don't get me wrong, I am not as desperate or as gloomy as I sound. But this blog' s purpose is to merely mirror deep feelings that I can't usually entrust to my loved ones. How can I say to my sister that looks on me for a role model that I am battling with desperation, fear, loss of faith, loss of incentive to keep fighting. How can I tell her that sometimes, I just get so tired of fighting that I am afraid I will just give up and get lost in depression?
No, I have to keep a face, be strong, be brave, be true, be more than this mortal flesh, be someone that leaves the world a better place, someone that filled a lifetime with love and caresses.
I wish to be a person radiating warmth, safety, faith, inner beauty. My body might be cut and sewed back, my external beauty gone, but I can still offer so much to my loved ones.
This is my war, and I intend to fight with teeth and nails.
From that moment, I cannot connect with my feelings as I did. I am constantly searching for distractions, whatever might keep my attention so I won't think about my condition.
Maybe a part of my soul switched off, trying to protect me from falling into pieces, from having a nervous breakdown.
Even though the news were encouraging, I will never be the same. I cannot talk any more of my pain and my fear because simply, the horror is too much to put into words. Only those that faced the same situation can understand. These are things that normally, no one touches in conversation, taboos. And yet, now I have to deal with it every day.
Don't get me wrong, I am not as desperate or as gloomy as I sound. But this blog' s purpose is to merely mirror deep feelings that I can't usually entrust to my loved ones. How can I say to my sister that looks on me for a role model that I am battling with desperation, fear, loss of faith, loss of incentive to keep fighting. How can I tell her that sometimes, I just get so tired of fighting that I am afraid I will just give up and get lost in depression?
No, I have to keep a face, be strong, be brave, be true, be more than this mortal flesh, be someone that leaves the world a better place, someone that filled a lifetime with love and caresses.
I wish to be a person radiating warmth, safety, faith, inner beauty. My body might be cut and sewed back, my external beauty gone, but I can still offer so much to my loved ones.
This is my war, and I intend to fight with teeth and nails.
