Awake and sad at almost 2 am.
Oh and in pain too.
And a touch angry, because it’s all just fucking bullshit, ya know?
Yet somehow still grateful to be here, alive, and able to function despite how much it hurts.
It’s all so complicated, this living thing, and still I want more.
I’ve been following Megan over on Insta for a while now. She was a fellow mbc thriver. She’s been on the struggle bus big time recently – with brain and skin mets. Then she got covid. And, as of last night, she passed. I know I didn’t actually know her, but she was so open and honest about life with MBC, that I felt like I did. She was only in her mid-thirties, and left behind a husband and two young kids. It’s heartbreaking and unfair and I fucking hate it.
I feel like a ticking time bomb.
Stage 4 needs more.
Trying really, really hard not to go down that rabbit hole.
I can’t eat much anymore (or drink much either) without feeling really full and sick. I’ve also been having a lot of reflux. I wake up super ill in the middle of the night. Lots of nausea, reflux, and cramps. So I think I’m going to ask that my scans be moved up. I’m worried the peritoneal mets are growing again. I’m not supposed to scan until June 23rd, but I don’t think I can stand to wait that long. Plus, I need to report this kind of stuff to my oncologist anyway.
I’m so tired. I don’t know how much longer I can handle all of this bullshit.
By death.
Everywhere I look, there is another under 45 yo woman dying from metastatic breast cancer.
I can’t deal with this shit right now. I may need to take a social media break.
My body hurts and I’m tired. I’m mentally and physically fatigued. I slept like ten hours last night, and it still isn’t enough. Nothing makes this feeling go away. The Ritalin just masks it.
I’m trying not to get down. Everything is fine. I’m just unhappy at where I find myself – it wasn’t supposed to be like this. I was supposed to be more than this.
It’s so fucking hard. Some days are better than others. This day I feel the weight of all of it.
I feel like a huge burden.
I feel like I have zero control over anything in my life.
I hate it. I hate it. I hate it.
I’ve been crying a lot.
I think I’m going to take a nap before court.
Panic attacks at 5 am. Ugh.
Yesterday, I read a post in my support group from a 40-yo mom with three young kids who will be dying from MBC in the next few months. She’s riddled with cancer from head to toe and is out of treatment options. To say it was triggering would be an understatement.
I don’t want to do this anymore. It’s too hard.
It’s just…not fair. And that’s what I kept saying over and over as I fell asleep crying: it’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair…
I know all too well that life isn’t fair. I’m feeling better about things today. I accidentally drank too much. I’m a lightweight now, and need to be more careful.
But, even though I’m feeling better, I’m still sad about all of it. I need to let it roll off though, because we have shit going on today and I don’t have time to wallow.
Okay bye – it’s time for court.
xoxo
My psych told me that my job is to relax and take care of myself. She said she knows it’s difficult for an over achiever like me to allow themself to do so without a lot of guilt, but that she wants me to work on it. So I’m currently lying down and resting for a few hours before I head out to run some errands. Like she said: I didn’t choose this life, but I choose to make the best of it.
Also – I keep reminding myself that this is technically my retirement. I should do things that make me happy. What’s the point of feeling guilty about it? It is what it is.
