I had a breakdown tonight talking to D about how the hell I’m going to be able to say my proper goodbyes to the kids without completely losing my shit. I don’t know if I’m strong enough, but I want to be. I want to be coherent and say all the things I feel in my heart.
I don’t want to be remembered how I am now or how I’ve been the last couple of years. I want to be remembered as the vibrant person I was before cancer stripped me of literally everything. I worry that cancer has robbed me of even that – my legacy.
It felt good to cry earlier. I’ve been holding this in for a while now. We just held each other and sobbed. Then we both took Xanax and went on to have a nice evening together (well as nice as it could be considering). We decided to start watching Community again. I don’t want to start any new shows I won’t be able to finish. I’ve been binge watching Friends like crazy so I can finish. I’m almost done with season 8. I want to also watch the reunion show, and maybe read Matthew Perry’s book, if time permits.
I’m bummed because my ex cancelled his trip, so I don’t get the extra time with Jackson this weekend after all. Though maybe it’s good for me to have a few days to wallow in self-pity before getting my shit together when the kids come home on Monday. I try to stay strong for them. They deserve stability.
We still haven’t taken the Christmas stuff down, and I don’t care. I don’t care if we ever take it down. Fuck it. I doubt he’ll ever put my beautiful 12 foot tree up again once I’m gone. Might as well enjoy it now. I do remind him constantly that he can’t just completely give up on life once I’m gone. I want him to find joy again. I want him to be happy – whatever that looks like for him. Life is too short to waste.
I bought one of those “things you need to know now that I’m dead” books and have been filling it out. It’s as much of a mind fuck as you’re imagining, but it is very helpful and I believe will be invaluable to him when the time comes. I’m putting in all kinds of info, like even stuff about how to feed the pets, order their food, and pay various bills, etc. I take care of more stuff than I realized.
I read up on a study today about Mets to the eyes and realized just how truly rare it is. The last paragraph read: the prognosis is dismal. It felt like taking a fucking bullet.
I mean…it’s not like I didn’t already know, but still. Yikes. Dead woman walking.
You know, it’s funny, because even now, with everything I have going on, I feel like I need to apologize for being so dark and depressing on my own fucking blog. Lol forever. At least I can be remembered as a well mannered, polite person?
Today a friend messaged asking if we’re still down for an event she’s hosting in a couple of weeks. I looked at D, and in all seriousness replied, “I might be dead by then.”
I hate knowing and yet not knowing. How am I supposed to live like this? It’s so hard.