“I’ll never live the
life that wakes me in the night.” ~Fiona Apple
I was going to be a
psychologist. I was going to major in psychology and double-minor in sociology
and women's studies. Every time I've gone back to school to better myself, I've
ended up with cancer. Do you know how close I am to having my associate's
degree? It's ridiculous. We’re talking maybe just over one quarter of classes
at the most (but probably less) and I’m done. You know what the biggest hurdle
is? Math. Fucking math. I have one math class left and it was a miracle I made
it that far. Last year, before I knew my cancer was metastasizing, I was taking
a statistics class (since I was sure there was no way I could handle
college-level algebra and stats is more geared toward my chosen field anyhow)
and I BOMBED it. As in, I did not understand it at all. I just couldn’t do it.
Math has always been extremely difficult for me, but this…this was a special
kind of impossible.
My brain simply does
not work as well as it used to. The medical industry is only just scratching
the surface of what cancer treatment does to the functionality of the mind, but
I can tell you from experience that the effects of “chemo brain” are real and
they are devastating. The thing is, when it’s a subject more directly related
to my chosen areas of study, I excel. I don’t like math. I’ve never liked math.
It’s difficult for me. Humanities are my forte. My brain is not mathematical.
It’s humanitarian. Its analytical capabilities eat human behavior and social
sciences up like candy. Math? Hard science? No.
It has long been a
great frustration of mine that in order to attend a four-year college to pursue
my heart’s chosen fields, I have to first muddle through community college,
taking courses that do not relate to those fields at all. I am already in debt up
to my ass due to having to take classes I have no interest in. It’s bullshit.
And now, I’m looking into having my student debt forgiven (which requires some
serious hoop-jumping) because I have a “terminal” diagnosis, even though I do
not plan on dying anytime soon. If I succeed at that task, what happens? Am I
no longer allowed to pursue my education at all? Is it even worth pondering? If
I wanted to take out more student loans to finish, I’d first have to pay to
retake the failed math class out of pocket and pass it anyway, since I’m out of
appeals. I could try to raise the money to pay for said class but again…I’d
have to actually PASS it. I just don’t know if my mind will do that, even with
tutoring. I’m angry. I’m frustrated. I’m sick of the whole system.
Today I finalized my divorce. Something huge that has
been needing to end finally ended. There have been a lot of big endings for me
over the past few years. There have been some beginnings as well, but here I am
with cancer for the third fucking time, still wondering when my life, my REAL
life is going to begin. It’s not like I haven’t been working for it. It’s not
like I haven’t been trying like Hell. And honestly, I’m not trying to sound
like a victim here. I’m just trying to figure out what the fuck happened and
how the fuck I can get around it. Why can’t I have the same opportunities so
many others have to build a good life if I’m willing to work for it? Why does
tragedy and disease have to continuously keep these things out of my grasp? I
don’t want to live on social security and in poverty for the rest of my life! I
don’t want to just not die. I want to LIVE, really fucking LIVE! I want to
create my destiny, the destiny I want and deserve. Destiny, not fate. Not this
fate. It’s making me feel like my existence is a waste and I don’t want to feel
that way.
I want to pursue my academic dreams. I want more than
just an associate’s degree. I want more than just a bachelor’s degree. I want a
masters, maybe multiple masters. Maybe I want to follow this shit all the way
to my doctorate. But my brain doesn’t work. It won’t do the stupid math I am
told I have to do just to earn the right to go to school for what I really
want.
I want to live a life of purpose and joy. I want a
house and a yard. I want to be a part-time (or maybe full-time) Krav Maga instructor,
but I can’t even take the belt tests until I get this damn cancer the fuck out
of my body. I want to be the mother that Violet deserves. I want to see the
world, starting by returning home to Australia. I want to become a Reiki
master. I want to pursue my art and writing without being continuously buried under
bills, chores, and stress. I want to know what life is like when you can afford
vacations and shop for food without worrying if I’ll have enough to feed my household
for the month. Did I say it yet? I think I did, but I’ll say it again. I WANT
TO FUCKING LIVE!!!
I want to live.
I want to live.
I need to find a way to live.
