October 6, 2010
Lately, I have found myself in an insurmountable amount of emotional pain. Pain that reverberates through my entire body, leaving me limp, and hopeless, with nowhere to turn. People? I lost all ability to cope, with even the most minute of issues. It has been next to impossible for me to function in what I would consider a normal way. The way that I have always been.
I am incredibly angry. Irritable. Irrational. One moment, happy, the next sad. The next? So angry that I have walked out on my family (twice) and spent the night in a hotel room by myself, ranting at what I don’t know. That brief respite, however unjustified, left me feeling drained and comatose. Depression cuts you off from everything that is important to you. I don’t have the energy to talk to my parents or the rest of my family or friends, because oh my Lord, I just can’t fake it any more. In my mind, why even try because most people, sadly even my family, just don’t get it. Let’s be frank here. How could they understand when they haven’t gone through it themselves?
Much of my family and friends have told me that I just need to get past it. I am overreacting. Granted, in my youth, I was good at that. Perhaps I should have been an actress. So who can blame those who believe that what I am going through is nothing more than an emotional tantrum?
Those who love me most just don’t get it. My way to deal with it, though not what one would consider the best, is to shut them off. Not to call. Not to email. Cut off all but the absolutely necessary contact. Is this the right thing to do? In my heart, no. They love me despite who I am. I guess I just want them to understand. If I were to be truthful, how can they understand unless I take the time to tell them? To tell them until they HEAR me?
“You need to pray more. You need to get more sleep. You need to break through all of this instead of giving in. You need to…you need to…” I had to, as much as it hurts me, stop listening. Because there is something wrong with me. Terribly wrong. That can’t be fixed by prayers or just “getting up off my ass already and dealing with it.” That’s life you know. Get over it. Or so I am told.
Here I am, going through this. Struggling at how I ask for help. In comes, my yearly check up. I have been having physical (read female issues) for about a year and a half now. I am in what is believed to be a peri-menopausal state (or is that country?). Well below the age of the average menopausal woman. The symptoms and other tests I have point to several things, and of course Endometrial Cancer is the only one I can remember. The same day I had my annual, I had a Endometrial Biopsy done and today I got the results.
I am cancer free (even precancerous free).
The doctor talked to me for over an hour and a half after she gave me the results. I talked (babbled), she listened. Can you imagine that? She LISTENED. She had already read my file before my appointment (ya, I know!) and had quite a bit of options for me. Oh my the options. From the least invasive to the one I want to avoid at all costs.
So now? I have a plan. And am moving forward. Tonight? I am happy.
It also helped me, that when I started crying, and became incoherent for NO REASON AT ALL, she put her hand on my shoulder and said “I’m sorry. Let me help you. You poor thing. Let me help.”
And I cried more.
I don’t have cancer. I am going back on antidepressants. I’m not just faking it. And someone believes me. Physically, I have a plan to help me control the aspects of what I am going through. I can do this. More important, I want to.
Watch out world. I am coming back.