“To climb steep hills requires a slow pace at first.”

I always said the first time around and even nearly 3 years on that I wished people had been there for me more or I’d let them in. I was never in a situation where I had nobody but at times it felt lonely and isolating and it’s hard when you think nobody cares about you (even if you do push people away).

This time around, I’m finding it difficult with the overwhelming flow of contact. Phone calls, social media, texts. Everyone wants to say sorry and send their love. It’s what I wanted in a way, but it makes me sad too. Not just because the situation is tough and unfair on me but because of how others feel and how how hard they must have taken the news. I cry for how others feel- more than for myself. I feel guilty that people worry and feel helpless. 

I figured, (perhaps late along the way), words mean very little in relation to how someone is feeling. “Stay strong, you’ll beat it,”or  500 words on how sorry someone is using all the right language I like, doesn’t mean anyone cares any less. In fact I’ve found that often people who say the least or don’t have the words feel very deeply about things. I am pleased that I finally understand that now. It feels like a relief and an acceptance. Letting go of that anger that people don’t get it and may even ignore me because it’s hurting them is for the best.

Anyway, I’ve found  filtering messages and replying gradually  to people to be the easiest and gentlest thing for me. Some messages I haven’t been able to read yet or answer calls- close friends, it’s just too hard right now. If I read all the messages somehow this is all very real, and not looking at my phone for a day means I can pretend that nothing is wrong; escapism. It’s wonderful to escape from this, even temporarily until treatment starts. But keeping it a secret I’m sure would have been worse than being open and being overwhelmed. I’m not ashamed, I just don’t want the pity. Pity makes you feel ashamed and embarrassed and want to hide away.

I did read some really positive stories today about women still being alive in 7 + years doing well. It’s really lifted me up actually and given me some hope. The road is long and winding and there are steep hills to climb. But I must be prepared to go on this journey and be strong.
 
PS I’m not sure how well these blog posts are reading, as I’m massively off my tits! Perhaps I should call them “Morphine memoirs?” ☺️

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