I'm Sorry. I Need To Get It Out.

Something has been circling in my mind, so I am doing what I do when this happens.  I write.  And then put it on the internet for strangers to read because that’s just what I do.

This topic is reoccurring depending on what’s going on, how I feel and general triggers.  I have been struggling with this for a few months now and have kept quiet because it relates to two twitter friends.  But I can’t carry on with it circling in my mind.  For me and my mental health I need to get it out.  So if you read this and it upsets you because you know who it is, or it is in fact you, I hope you can understand why I have written and posted this.

I feel ‘what about me?!’ a fair amount.  I don’t know if it’s linked to being a middle child or just because I’m attention seeking and needy.   It has become a feeling and thought that I have learnt to recognise since my diagnosis and do what I can to rationalise it and understand why others get and deserve more attention than me.  I do know that everything doesn’t revolve around me and I would never expect it to.

In just under 2 weeks it will be my 9^th Cancerversary.  9 years on chemotherapy.  9 fucking years.  I’m 31.  I have been on the drugs for nearly a quarter of my life.  Yes, it does mean that I’m alive and obviously I wouldn’t want to change it.  It’s just sometimes…..

A while ago an editor of The Times was interested in me and everything I have been through so I wrote her something.  She didn’t want it.  A couple of weeks later an article was published mentioning everything I did but that person was probably going to die, and didn’t have any hair from treatment.  A much better story than me.  Everyone loves a sob story.  Not someone boring like me.

On the subject of hair.  My hair is under half the thickness it used to be.  No.  I’m not going to lose it, but I notice that every single fucking day.  My grandmother said over Christmas that combfuls of hair are coming out at the moment due to the stress of moving and an ill husband.  This happens to me every single day and has done for 9 years.  When I mentioned that to her.  Nothing.  Fuck all.  Her response was something like, but it’s so long no one notices.  That’s not the fucking point.  I do.

One of my twitter lot has recently shaved her head for charity and has raised over £6,000, which is obviously amazing and the reasons behind her doing it are heart-breaking and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.  I am running a fucking marathon with chronic fucking fatigue and I haven’t had nearly the same response as her.

I know I have chosen to do it.  I know no one has made me do it. I wish everyone really understood how fucking hard it is for me to do it.  It took me nearly an hour to get out of bed today….

So I sit here crying whilst I write this because I feel like a fucking horrible human being.  Another twitter friend is also running the marathon.  The day he announced it, twitter went mental.

What about me.

I know I’m still here.  I know I still have a life and can do so much.  I just wish at times it wasn’t so much of a fucking battle.

Maybe when people ask me how I am I shouldn’t smile and say I’m ok….

But I don’t want to be that person.

I’m sorry to whinge and complain.  I know I have so much.  I just sometimes wish I had the life I lost.

With love and hope,

XXX