Most of the time I feel pretty optimistic about my future and accepting All The Things I do every day for healing (it’s a very long list). Every night at about 9pm I think,”ok, so you made it through another day.” And — I’m being honest here — most of the time I feel okay with it all.
And then there are times like right now, when I feel angry and sad and afraid and want to pound my fists in to the wall and yell WHYYYYYY and FUCK YOU CANCER and eat cupcakes and refuse to take my goddamn 180 pills a day, closing my lips tight and shaking my head no like a recalcitrant two year old.
When do I get to LIVE? My inner two year old wants to know.
Inner voice says: This is living. Make the most of it.
And that’s well and good. Easy for you to say, Inner Voice. YOU don’t fucking have cancer.
I hear phrases like “baby steps” and “one day at a time” and I want to vomit. Fuck baby steps. I WANT IT NOW.
And I totally get that my inner two years old needs to beat her wee fists on my heart so she feels heard. We all need that from time to time, I think. And when she’s satisfied, I can continue to take my goddamn baby steps and move onward.
Because anything else would be backward, and I’ve been there already. Not going back.
Until then, I’ll be here in my shadows, taking my pills and my damned baby steps and hoping it all means something in the end, and one day the clouds part and it’s all sunshine from there.