That I Would Be Good...

Cuddling with Violet on one of my "down days"

I was already done with today when my feet swung off the bed and the right one landed right in cold, squishy cat diarrhea. Violet had been the one to come in and wake me with much persistence and I had to yell at her to move out of my way as I hopped to the bathroom to rinse it off in the sink. I would have used the bathtub, but it’s slightly clogged and takes too long to drain. The rest of the morning was no picnic. As I struggled to wake up enough to function, Violet pawed at me, making her usual demands. I got her a bowl of cereal and curled up on the sofa for a glorious few minutes. I’ve been dealing with an obnoxious cough which causes a violent stabbing pain in the pinched nerve that’s in my back. Needless to say, I have not been getting restful sleep.

The time came for me to shower and get ready for the day, which had me stepping in even more cat diarrhea (Jesse’s cat has been terribly ill, poor thing) and scrambling for something to wear with Violet still pestering me for things I can’t deliver at every turn. I barely got both of us ready in time to get her to the bus for school, then made my way back up to the apartment where I was greeted by a living room filled with clutter and a mountain of dishes in the kitchen. My heart sank to see it. I was almost caught up on things before this cough and back pain started. Now it’s almost back to where it was and Jesse has been exhausted from work whilst he adjusts to his new early schedule. So, I get to start again and hopefully, I’ll be able to get this place completed before something happens to cause another backslide. I haven’t even touched Violet’s room. The bathroom and our bedroom are atrocious and there is a giant pile of cardboard by the dining table that needs to go out.

As I’ve been juggling housework, Violet, endless errands, and all the fun (not fun) surprises that life keeps pitching my way, the frustration that I already feel has worsened by something else that has been eating at me for a while now. Some of my friends are angry with me. One even called me out. It seems, that I’m not the friend some people want or need me to be. I’ve been accused of not meeting my end of the required time and attention needed to maintain said friendships. I’ve been accused of not making the effort, of not placing enough importance on being a proactive friend and only making contact when I need something. Fucking ouch.

That last one isn’t entirely true. It came out of a misunderstanding and miscommunication. I tried to convey something that came out wrong, and well…there was that. As for the rest of it? Fine. Sure. It’s true. But let me tell you WHY it’s true.

Now first, let me be clear that the feelings behind such statements aren’t necessarily wrong. You need what you need and if you need a friend to meet you exactly halfway in order to maintain the friendship, well…that’s what you need. There’s nothing wrong with that, but here’s the thing; I don’t have it to give. It’s not that I don’t want to be the friend that people need. I do. I do so much, it has caused some serious emotional upset and self-doubt. After a falling out with one friend in particular, I spent hours in a crumpled mess of tears, thinking that maybe I’m just a shitty person. It was agony and it lasted for weeks. Hell, I still feel it. There’s a part of me that still wonders if I just suck as a human being, but that’s what a lifetime of low self-esteem and social anxiety will do to you.

Then I remember all that’s on my plate. Even with knowledge of my situation, I think that sometimes people don’t quite grasp the magnitude of it. Hell, even I forget how tough I’ve got it at times. I look great most of the time when people see me. I do Krav Maga (though not nearly as often as I used to), which is one Hell of a workout. I go to see bands with Jesse when we have the money. When I do get together with friends, I often seem fine. Here’s what people don’t see:

I’m exhausted all day, every day. Some days I’m just less exhausted than others.

I have some sort of physical discomfort almost all the time, whether it’s my bad teeth, or my bad back, or a screaming tension headache (I had to go to the E.R. for my head not too long ago).

I have been fighting a seemingly futile battle against my own apartment, trying to clear out and organize years and years of stuff piling up, and trying to catch up on the chores that I miss when I’m too sick to do them.

I have a very busy four-year-old who demands a ridiculous amount of attention. Even though I love her more than anything, she exhausts and tests me every day.

I’m all over the place. I have to get Violet on and off the school bus every day. Mondays and Wednesdays, I have to get her to her karate class and then get home in time to do some cleaning and make dinner so I can go to Krav Maga (which I have missed so much of lately due to all the other shit I have to deal with).

My car is in serious need of help, and I can no longer drive it more than a few short miles at a time, so I have to wait to do a lot of things until Jesse is home from work.

The biggest thing though, lest people forget…I HAVE CANCER! Fucking cancer, people!!! I may look healthy, but how healthy can I possibly be with stage FOUR fucking cancer??? Just imagine how much worse it would be if I didn’t have my daughter, Jesse, and Krav Maga to help drive me to continue. All the things above would certainly keep most people pretty busy, but doing it on top of something that is actively trying to kill me seems damn impossible some days. Yes, it’s diminished significantly, and yes, I try to remain as active as possible, but I haven’t beaten it yet, and this shit takes its toll. I still haven’t fully recovered from my last bout and I got slammed with this.

People are killed by this every day. Western Medicine has given me a death sentence. I’m choosing not to accept that sentence, but it takes a lot of work and determination. I had to leave some Facebook support groups because the women there were either dying or talking about how much time they have before they die. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t handle all that death. Learning how to live can be difficult. Learning how to live and beat a “terminal” illness while you’re at it, well how easy is that? It’s not. It’s not easy at all. I’m up against odds that most people say are impossible. Even with the progress I’ve made, my oncologist (who is absolutely wonderful, don’t get me wrong) is still counting on the likelihood of this eventually taking me out. So how much time and energy do you suppose it takes to disagree with that and make good on what I propose to do, which is live? How much do you think that takes out of me? How much energy and constant mindfulness do you think goes into defying those kinds of odds?

So if I’m not the friend you need, then I’m sorry. I truly am sorry. As I said before, I just don’t have it to give. It doesn’t make me right, and it doesn’t make you wrong. It just is what it is. People talk about not wasting time with someone who treats you like an option instead of a priority. Well, if you need to be a priority, find someone who has it available. Right now, my priorities are with raising my daughter, loving my man, making my home a safe and peaceful place, and NOT DYING. As much as I wish I could give more, as much as it hurts me to my core, I just can’t. If this means people are going to walk out of my life, then that’s what it means. Go do what’s best for you. Of course it hurts, but I’ve got to focus on getting better. I’ve got to focus on my immediate surroundings if I want to survive…and I do want to survive. I don’t expect everyone to understand. It’s a lot to take in. For those who can handle me at my limited capacity, thank you. I know it can be difficult. For those who can’t, well I wish you the best. Maybe years down the road, I can be what you need, but not now. Not today. It doesn’t mean I don’t love you (otherwise it wouldn’t hurt so much). It just means I can’t act on that love in the way you need me to.