hi.

This post will probably be as winding as my life seems to be, so pardon the train of thought.

If you haven’t heard from me in a while, I’m sorry. It’s probably for the best, though, because I’m not a great person to be around.

I have this sense that it was one thing to have cancer and fall apart…which, I didn’t really. Or didn’t think so. But the weight of all the other life shit sorta sunk me. For the most part, the separation stuff has been good, but it’s brought up a ton of childhood trauma. I fell apart somewhere between that and what cancer treatment is doing to my mental health (by way of hormones). I lost some key people along the way, and I’m struggling to figure out what it all means. There’s so much to explain and too much going on. I retreated. If I do more harm than good, I don’t want to put that on anyone. And thus starts the cycle of depression.

It’s a dark period for me, not going to lie. I am really trying, actively, not to fall apart. And if you’re here reading this, you know I’ve been fighting that battle for a while. I didn’t predict I’d beat cancer only to be here from circumstances, but…I don’t know what to say.

This blog has been an outlet for me through cancer, but this is not something to burden folks with (unless you’re my paid therapist). I think there’s a threshold of what people can handle from someone else, which is fair. Even without the emotions, the laundry list of unluckiness is overwhelming. Someone said to me that they felt bad telling me their good news because my news is so bad…that kinda sums it up. So, it’s probably best to avoid me for now.

Besides some deep childhood trauma, treatment is fucking with my hormones. Exemestane – the daily pill to suppress hormones – FUUUUUUCKED with me. I have never felt so emotionally out of control. It was weeks of fucking hell before I stopped taking it (without doctor’s orders). I just was not going to make it, and I don’t say that lightly. I do not like being out of control. It was scary. And I know what that could mean for a cancer recurrence. My local oncologist said no matter what lady parts are removed, I will still have to take daily pills to suppress hormones for at least 5 years, which means experimentation to see what works. And that’s…daunting.

I’m not sure what role the quarterly Zolodex shot – aka stomach implant – has on my mental health or body. I am in the process of getting my ovaries and tubes removed. However…I have a history of cysts in my uterus. In fact, they showed up on my PET scan. I don’t know why we/I’ve never looked into what they are and what they might mean. So now it’s some tests to determine if I’m at higher risk for that kind of cancer, and if so, it’ll be a total hysterectomy instead of a simpler ovary/tube removal. Longer recovery, more incisions. I am glad that I looked into this option since it may rule out a future cancer.

I am about to be done with my every 3-week shot in the leg. That one fucks with my stomach. I’m actually more nauseated now than I was during chemo. My local oncologist said that’s not typical but didn’t offer up any solutions outside of that, so I’m going to get a second opinion from my Mayo folks.

And speaking of 2nd opinions, I am still bruising very easily. I am covered in bruises. I did ask my local onco who asked if they appeared on my trunk. I wasn’t sure then but I am now. It’s concerning that they’re appearing there. It was a sign of my breast cancer. I’m not fucking around with it, so off to Mayo I go. I don’t want to go down that what-if rabbit hole, but I didn’t expect to be cancer-free only to turn around with more medical complications. Just PLEASE don’t be another cancer.

And that’s some stuff that’s been going on. There’s “getting back” to work & I seemed to have lost all my confidence, which isn’t great when stepping into a new role. The “chemo brain fog” is something else. Being a single parent. Keeping schedules straight. Getting the house ready to sell. Keeping up the house. Family drama. Trying to not lose more friends yet maintaining some kind of “social life.” Styling a new body. Learning WTF my new body does. Menopause. You name it, it’s happening.

I thought I knew who I was. I’m not sure anymore. Amidst the chaos of life, I’m floundering. Too many leaks in the boat. I’m trying desperately to fill in the cracks. I am overwhelmed and trying not to ruin things in the process. And I’m too fucking candid to pretend I’m not a complete mess, so I’m keeping to myself for a while. And If you’ve reached out to me and I’m super late in responding, it’s not you. I’m sorry. This isn’t me, who I want to be. I’m working on it.

xoxo