In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Cut Off.”
Someone once wrote me the following phrase “I started to write, then I hit delete. Than I started to write again, only to hit delete.” She was referring to some advice she was offering that was going to come out harsh, no matter the timing, and she wondered if she should send it at all. This topic of being cut off is very much like that to me. I feel completely cut off from people, some by necessity and others because they have walked away. With the totality of my past year, I sometimes just want to stay in bed and forget what I need to do.
Cancer, death, and divorce have been my past year. In some ways they are all topics tied to one another, yet have caused such a rift that I don’t have much recourse but to sit back and let things happen. I’ve written about the death of my daughter and my “divorce” [I call it that since when you are with someone for a decade, even if not married; you still are in many senses married. Thus divorce…]. I don’t write much about the cancer because I know that at some point it will win. I don’t want to give it that kind of power. Right now it is another part that defines my days, keeps me away from some people. Hell I’m at the doctor’s office with a tube in my chest, another in my arm as I’m writing this. A way to occupy my mind!
When you deal with all of that in one year, you feel alone. Not too many of my friends know how to deal with the daughter issue. They don’t understand that by talking about it sometimes is the only way I have of keeping her alive. I never wanted to outlive her, I only wanted to live with her. Simple request, yet one that life somewhere decided was outside the realm of possibility.
Whitney leaving was something that I also didn’t see coming. I should have, but to this very minute I still love her with a ferocity that I can’t explain. It snowed like crazy here and the first thing I thought of was sending her a text saying to drive carefully to work, to be safe. It wasn’t how am I going to get myself out to the hospital, it was about her safety! One of my aunt’s said something nasty about her and I tossed her from the room at Christmas. 5 months into this silence and I don’t have it in me to get angry. It was hard enough waking up from yet another round of surgery and having her name be the first thing to come to mind. My mother tries to understand, this was a woman who bought Christmas presents for someone who she knew wouldn’t be there, but still hoped on some level she would!
Cancer is something that touches everyone’s life. You’ve had it, someone close had it, someone you know will have it. Those are just facts! One of those is going to happen, hopefully not all three; but one will. I’m not afraid of dying, nothing really scares me anymore. What I’m afraid of is losing the memory of some events due to the drugs. Asking for Whitney was one thing, not remembering what happened to my daughter was something else entirely.
Am I cut off from the world? Yeah. This blog has been my way of reaching out to the world. Faceless individuals who have offered kind words, read my ramblings, thought enough to possibly “follow” me. Will I cry later tonight? Yes.
Lots of whining in this. Before anyone asks, yes I take an antidepressant! Yes they have me talking to someone about the weight of all of this! It’s just a lot to handle, and I’m not doing a very good job of it.
It’s time to stop writing, my eyes are getting heavy.