As strong and hopeful as I may sound sometimes, I've been in a depression and so has Kevin . and I think even a couple of my girls are dealing with their own levels of depression. I wish I could take the burden away from them. I wish I could deal with this secretly on my own and not have to worry anyone.
When I first got this news, I don't know how to explain the overload in my head. I literally couldn't handle it. All of that coupled with all the drowning of information dumped on me about cancer and Mets and chemo and facts and fiction. I just couldn't process. I forgot and still do forget things easily. I walk around like a zombie sometimes not knowing what I'm doing.
The trip to Florida helped take some of those thoughts and put them on the shelf for a bit and I really needed it. I wouldn't say for me that the trip was fun. I was just managing, but it helped.
Coming back, it's been interesting to see what my brain is doing handling all of this. The darkest and scariest thoughts are really down deep and even when I think of them, my brain doesn't let me truly absorb it. It's protecting me. But I know it's there. At times my grief is about my mom. At times it's about Kevin and all that I'm heaping upon him unintentionally. At times my grief is for my girls and worrying how they are doing or will do without me. Sometimes my grief is for others and at times it's for me.
I still get up everyday and do my stuff and I'm thankful I still can, but everyday I wonder how long I will be able to.
I love to plant. I love to plant flowers and gardens. I love to nurture them and see them grow. This year I've been scared to plant. Part of me is just depressed and I just don't feel like it. Part of me feels like planting is false hope and what's the point. Part of me is worried that I won't be able to care for my garden in the late summer. Part of me just thinks it sounds too hard.
However, I mentioned a desire to plant to Kevin and part of my mother's day gift was that he got new soil and got my garden boxes ready to plant.
I actually got a little excited and I went and bought vegetables and flowers. Yesterday and today I planted.
And while I planted, I hoped. I hoped that I would see them flourish, I hoped that I would be able to care for them. I hoped that in the Fall I will be able to clear out my planters to ready for winter and do it all again next year. I hoped that things will stay as they are now and that my medications are working and I won't have to try new ones that may make me sicker. I hoped that my next PET scans will show shrinkage and not growth. I hoped that I can keep feeling like this for years to come.
I hoped for a bit and that was good for my soul.
Kristi, I am following you and your story. I think you may be an external processor, like me. You have a chronic illness, as do I. While our illnesses are not the same, and my progression of illness is a slow ebbing and flowing of symptoms, while yours may run a more predictable, steady course, I can with confidence tell you this, all of these thoughts and fears and emotions are normal and certainly ok. If sharing helps you, it will most likely help others. Yes, some people will not be in a place to hear or bear witness to your darkest places, but, that's not your responsibility. And no matter how much energy you put into feeling guilty about how your illness is affecting others, try to remember, you didn't ask for this, you don't want this, it is not your fault. There are lessons to be learned in the grief and the pain and the darkness. Maybe the lesson for now is that cancer truly sucks! I love you. I pray for you. Get help in all the ways you need it. Be intuitive. I will continue to listen to and be with you in your darkness and in your light. If you more from me, please ask.
ReplyDeleteThanks for being real, Kristi. I'm praying hard. (Rachel Hickman Brighton)
ReplyDeleteI have a big felt letter board in my kitchen that I put quotes on. I've been fighting depression for the last few months and have had it say "Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise" from Les Mis. But I wanted something for spring so last week I changed it to, "To plant a garden is to believe in tomorrow" and that's what I kept thinking as I read your post.
ReplyDeleteLove you Kristi, thanks for sharing so much of yourself. I know how vulnerable that feels❤️
I understand why you night want to make it more of a private journal, but your words are so powerful. So much love to you.
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