Stuck on the can't instead of the can.

Well my bloglets.

I don't know where I am going with this.  It's 10 to 11 and I should be asleep.  I've got an exam in two days that I definitely don't know enough for, and then two essays to research and write and hand in by 10am on the 20th alongside patient research, being back in uni for 1 and a half days a week and trying to have a bit of a social life and time for me.  The essays are two weeks late due to my extension.  I am forever playing catch up with my uni work.

I'm not sleeping well at the moment.  It is taking between one and two hours to go to sleep, then generally I'm fine, but this morning woke up with a start at 7.30, which would have been ok, if I didn't need so much sleep. And I do.

Over Christmas, whilst it was amazing to be at home with Milo and Claudia and her boyfriend Rob, the whole family together, I didn't sleep well.  The stress and worry of an essay I was doing then and then not having enough time to do the next two and revise.  And the pain returned in my legs.  I feel very unemotional and unattached whilst writing this which surprises me because this is not how I feel.  There were a lot of tears over Christmas being so fucking fed up of being tired.  And getting angry with adverts for doing a 'dry' January. Because not drinking for four weeks is so fucking difficult.  I also feel that I am not acknowledged for everything that I have given up and sacrificed.  I'm just the one who doesn't drink and it's no big deal.  Maybe now it's not, but when I stopped 5 and a half years ago it was.  And I didn't announce it to everyone or ask for money or not go out because I would be surrounded by booze.  I just did it.  As with all the other changes I have made.  My 20s have been stolen from me.  And maybe my 30s as well.  It is yet to be seen.

One cousin has just had a baby and another is pregnant with their second and I ache to have a baby.  But will I be able to?  When will I be able to?  I know that my treatment by no means makes me the only person to question this.  My life is so controlled by things out of my hands. As is everyone's life to an extent.  I know.  I just.....I don't really know what to say or how to say it.

I have spent the majority of today in a fucking awful mood.  I'm so fucking tired.  My face aches and my eyes burn and I hope to god I pass my exam on Wednesday.  More often than not a little voice creeps into my head saying it's not worth it.  The stress and the exhaustion that this degree causes cannot be good for me.  Can I really get to July?

And then on the bus on the way home as the fucking Victoria line was closed between Warren Street and Brixton, my darling Daddy sent me an email entitled -'This is you Baba!  XXX' with this picture.

 Maybe I need to give myself a bit more credit and recognition for what I have done and what I can do, than

what I can't. I don't think I am amazing or strong or brave or a fighter or any of those other words associated with a cancer diagnosis because it didn't kill me.  I am just trying to deal and cope with this the best and only way I know.  By being me. It's just seems that at the moment, the exhaustion and the can't out weighs the can.

With love and a hint of laughter,

Me, XXX