I spend so much time analyzing my emotions, denying then, feeling guilty for them, suppressing them, trying to change them, justifying them, hiding them, admitting them...it's exhausting. Why do we do this to ourselves? Why can't we just let ourselves be sad. Plain old sad. Or happy, exceedingly happy. It's like there has to be a hashtag associated with all our thoughts, our emotions, ourselves..sometimes things just stand alone..and sometimes they don't, but we can't always put a voice to them. Sometimes the voice we DO put them, aren't good voices..they are negative, hurtful, accusatory.
Some times I think I don't have the right to complain. I say, well, my son hasn't lost a limb. He hasn't relapsed. He hasn't died...he isn't brain damaged, he isn't lost to me, he isn't in radiation, he isn't away from home...
Some times I think I have the right to complain. I say, well, your kid isn't suffering through steroids every month. Your kid isn't getting poked and prodded, hospitalized. Your kid doesn't have issues like mine, doesn't have bowel problems daily, friends who die. You don't wake your child every single night for years to give them oral chemo. Your family hasn't lost friends, family. If you miss church, it's because you want the time off, not because your afraid of what your kid will get there, or how insane he'll act there, or is too sick to attend. Your family can do what they want, when they want, no worries about germs, no worries about play dates..no social issues, as the cancer family...
Robbed. I think families who have a child with cancer often feel robbed. Any major illness I'm sure. Robbed of trust. Robbed of innocence. Robbed of time, of support, of help, of simple days. Robbed of the mundane. We are robbed of money, of health, of purity of childhood. Robbed of that time..that time that was 'supposed to be.' The ages of 4, were robbed to major life threatening treatments. The year of 5. His year of 6. Now, his year of 7. I will never have him again as a four year old boy. That time, it's gone. It was sick years. It was scary, hard, awful years.
What happens to robbed families? They have to rebuild. They have to find new eyes to see through. Not just to GET THROUGH the hard times, the chemos, the pokes, the steroids, but to actually LIVE through them, as real life. We can't just count down, though we do...because that would mean those years, are lost for ever..they were hard, but they were/are ours. They were what we had, they can't be fixed, but they can be accepted.
I am dreading February. Not because he'll finally be 'done treatment' but because I dread the reaction of others and myself...I don't know if I'll be happier. I feel I should be happier. I don't know if I'll be relieved. I think I'll actually be more nervous. I don't know if I'll be grateful. I think I may be the angriest yet. Will we feel like, 'wow, we've won, he did it, we did it?' When Jason and I talk in the dark, in the night, we say such things as....'I can't believe how long it's been, how hard it's been, and when it's over, it wont really be...over...'
You may think that negative, or pessimistic, or depressing, or fatalistic. We just think it's how we feel.
I'm ready to steal something back. I'm ready to rob. I'm stealing back my voice, my life, my health, my family. I'm stealing back my son, my beliefs, my courage, my strength. I'm stealing back my independence, my future, my past, my hope. We have all been robbed, have we not? We all have choices of what to do with these infractions that are put and placed upon us. Pity is good for a moment, and then it's time to look around. I think that this journey, this robbing hard time, has tried to hold us under the water...and we battle daily, to resurface. We will always resurface. We will not be drowned out, held down, or sunk.
Christmas time is a hard time of year. I admit, I'm a pretty big baby this time of year. I am not big on the gifts, the baking, the decorating, the hype, it makes me nervous, poor, and stressed...I'd rather just eat a nice meal, and go to church..but our world doesn't work that way. I will be spending Christmas eve, the day, the 24th, at the hospital with Luke, getting chemo, starting steroids, then coming home to take two more chemos. I think this will keep everything in perspective. God means us no harm, but he does know, what will make us think....perhaps we will make it to church, if Luke feels good enough, but perhaps not...the week will be filled with presents and hype and a little 7 year old boy who will be very distraught on steroids. I will not be robbed. I will not let the situation that I can't control, take from me, what I can control. My joy is mine. My family is mine. My Jesus is mine. And my attitude is mine.
#gottalettheemotionsbewhattheybeandlivelifetothefullestbooya : )