Depression. It makes almost no sense that I would be depressed. Almost none.
But I sit here and I am gloomy - and not the kind of gloomy that I can get myself out of. Right now. I am content that I recognize that I am sad and depressed.
There’s just less brain noise. When I sit in a silent room- which is quite rare with having two kids- I am not running through the what if’s and the when’s of going through the diagnosis and ensuing journey. It’s back to the running list of a mom who has too many things to get done to make sure her and her family’s lives are fulfilled. Grocery list updated, rain boots kid just out grew yesterday ordered from amazon, answering a PTSA email, writing an email to a teacher, paying a bill, writing a check, double checking an insurance payment went through....it’s a never ending hum that I’m so grateful to be back to, but also I hear the silence. And the silence is the void that reminds me that I’ve been through the journey and that I don’t have that worry right now, though the worry never goes away. The thought that I was just living my life (bouncing around and being busy) and did not expect this cancer diagnosis and having it blindside me is a wake up call.
Like a wake up call that another something is around the corner.
And maybe that’s what this episode of depression is. It’s the anticipation of waiting. It’s the wanting to plan a celebration and wanting to celebrate and wanting to be able to breathe but not being able to out of the fear of something else.
And that makes cancer win.
I know cancer is not a thing that can plan, that can decide to choose someone else. It’s a biological fact. It doesn’t have a life of its own. It doesn’t have free will. But in the case of being rid of it forever, I now think it has ten upper hand. Because I wasn’t supposed to get it - I wasn’t predisposed. No one in my family has died of cancer that wasn’t caused by something (like smoking). So I didn’t expect it.
Now I don’t know what to expect. And maybe it’s that I thought I wouldn’t have this fear. That I would think I was completely done with breast cancer. Because I have no breast left, so how could I have breast cancer again? It’s the fear of being blindsided again that wins. Being blindsided by something that wasn’t supposed to happen. It could be anything.
But I guess that’s how it’s always supposed to be- it’s the definition of blindsided. It’s unexpected.
The question is how to move through this - not move ON, like I am leaving something behind. Because this journey is not something I can leave behind. It is something that comes with me, every day, and hides somewhere. It is my job to figure out how to learn to live with it and be content, happy, and joyous. And for right now, that has to be enough.
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