Journal Entry 3

Took a hike with the family today. Besides a little balance and dizziness issues it was very nice.

I need to talk with the doctor because my eyesight is getting a little wonky. Every once in a while it lights up like a flashlight has been turned on from inside my head and it's almost like my peripheral vision... spreads further into my sight.

The emotions are starting to calm down. I think the shock of the news is finally simmered enough that daily life is helping heal my nerves and cope with things to come. That and I've accepted that I need some lifestyle changes in my life.

Well, not too much to tell. Talk to myself later.

Journal Entry 2

Things have started calming, emotionally. The shock of the news and initial reaction by others and myself threw me for a loop there for a while. I'm still feeling angry, scared and guilty but am working through the feelings. That's not to say it'll calm and all will be better soon.

Shit happens, right?

I'm not some special person who is excluded from cancer, or any illness after-all. I'm just a normal member of Earth and therefore part of the lottery of life.

And it's not like I'm dying. I tell my self to stop being a baby, but the idea that next time, or any of the next times, could mean losing myself scares me. Still, there are people facing metastatic and high grade cancers, so really, I'm lucky this is the type and grade of cancer I ended up with in that crappy lottery.

The week was easier, as I said. That may have had something to do with the busy work week. And these headaches have just been a constant guest in my head, so I've been keeping to myself. This means less jackass statement opportunities by people thinking they're giving supportive comments. 

I shouldn't be mad at them either. It's not like they deal with this all the time either. How would they know what's going to be okay to say or what's going to come across as insulting or awkward? And they mean well... sigh, yes, they mean well. I must keep reminding myself that.

But damn it! I hate those pitied looks and "poor you" words! It makes me feel like they think I'm a victim. THAT makes ME feel like a victim, and I am NOT a victim.

It not like the little tumors snickered evilly, rubbed their hands together in anticipated glee and then dove in with the direct purpose of slowly destroying my brain.

I'm just "gifted" with deformed cell regeneration, that are so excited they're growing warped and out of control.

"Everything will be fine."

"Everything will be fine."

One more time, Tumor Girl.

"Everything will be fine."

Talk to you later anonymous world.

Journal Entry 1

I'm scared.

The first time, after the surgery, I felt locked inside my body disconnected from the real world. I was frightened I'd be stuck there forever. Thankfully I reconnected, but for almost another year my brain would disconnect occasionally. There'd be times I'd look at my children, know they were my children, but I'd have no emotional connection that comes from being a mother.

It scared the shit out of me. What if this time I'm stuck forever in that emotional box? Motherhood is the major definer of my life. My husband, who I've been madly in love with since I was 15 has been my best friend and partner for most of my life. What if I am unable to love any of them anymore?

I'm pissed.

I thought taking out the tumor in 2011 would be the end of it. It was super slow growing and low grade. I'm only 34. I'm married with kids. I've got almost 10 years before the youngest is an adult, but I want more than that. I want to see the grandkids my children will have.

I'm even selfish enough to want to see a great grandchild or two. At this rate, I'll have so much brain taken out I'll be lucky to be a vegetable by the time my children are all grown.

I'm guilty

Is being a vegetable that lucky? I'll admit it here in this anonymous setting. I keep thinking that I'd rather be dead than nothing more than a drooling idiot sitting aimlessly in a rocking chair. I'd rather be dead than trapped in that emotional box forever.

What does that say about me, a mother and wife? That I'd rather be dead than around for them? But would I be around for them? I think at first I would and they'd be relieved. Soon enough, though, I'd become a burden. And not just a burden, a painful reminder of the mother and wife I used to be.

I'm tired

I spend all my time calming everyone else and putting on a brave fucking face for everyone else. All I want to do is crawl in a corner and cry like a damn baby. I want to curl up on myself and pity me for a little. Be able to express everything I've mentioned above. Just for a little bit. But the times I've started to, they all try to fix it. Try to tell me to show a brave face. Try to tell me to cherish every moment and enjoy each moment.

Damn it! Why can't I even have a moment to let it all out? A little moment of weakness? No, instead I have to bag it all back up and tell them, "I know. I do. Everything will be fine. It's just a little surgery and recovery and then everything will be back to normal again."

So, I started this blog. It's the only place I can tell it how it is in the privacy of the world wide net. Nobody knows me here. Nobody truly cares what happens to an random avatar, other than how it'll affect them and their search stats. I can say whatever I want here. I can journal to my hearts content and know I have the freedom that I can't get in the real world.