Day 32
Today, there are no smiling family photos. Today, there are no inspiring pics of the ocean, or of a gorgeous woman, looking into the wind with her long hair billowing behind her. Today, there is nothing nice to say. Today, I have had angst and sadness, frustration and loneliness. Today, I have been angry that I have to do this and that I got fucking cancer in the fucking first place. Today, I miss the life I had before and I am not happy about feeling disfigured, and horrified about how I look in the mirror. Today, I am not smiling at the camera and I have no patience and I have snapped a thousand times at my mom, my poor husband and my sweet kids, who don't really know what to make of me.
I did my best... I tried to fake it. I made breakfast and we still worked on the Christmas decorating. I put up my kitchen tree, with all my Starbucks ornaments and I was happy for a moment... and then I thought about all the food that I ate over the weekend, and all the food that I probably SHOULDN'T have eaten... and then I thought about the controversy of coffee in cancer and the discussion as to whether cancer patients should or shouldn't be taking caffeine and I thought of the studies that show that women who drink 5 cups of coffee a day are 55% less likely to get breast cancer - but damn... I ALREADY HAD breast cancer, so maybe that statistic doesn't apply to me... so I was pissed off again that one of the things that I love the most, at Christmas, was MARRED and TAINTED by Freaking Cancer again...
At dinner, I had made a crockpot chicken and after they picked at their plates, miraculously, the kids had run off and were playing quietly (QUIETLY!!!) for a half hour... and I went off on a diatribe to my mom and husband about why I am in such a bad mood and how this all SUCKS SO MUCH... and they both kept giving me these furtive, surprised looks.. and I think my mom said, "well, this isn't surprising... you have been doing so well so far..." - as if me melting down and losing my shit is to be EXPECTED...
My husband calls these my mini-meltdowns. It didn't feel so mini to me... today.
Bedtime was an absolute disaster. I guess kids know when mom is having a breakdown... so they decided to throw their hats in the ring and lose it right along with me. Ellis refused to go to bed. Margaux wouldn't stop singing. Merus, the 10 year old, tried her best to fall asleep alone tonight, but with all the screaming and racket, she couldn't do it and came in the twins' to get me, in the midst of all the chaos, adding only more fuel to the fire. Even Dad failed to calm them...- and soon all three were crying for Mommy. Soooo- after an hour, I caved and brought all three down to the kitchen for a sandwich and some lemonade at 10:07 pm. We trudged back upstairs after the twins both wolfed down a ham and cheese... and I laid down in the tiny crib sized toddler bed with Ellis, essentially trapping her in. Finally, she slept and I took Merus to her room and she fell asleep clutching my hand in hers. In the quiet of her breathing, my greatest regret was the yelling today.
I HATE that I yell at them and hurt their little hearts. They do not deserve my wrath... it is cancer and the sacrifice and the loss that makes me furious. I HATE that they were victims in the path of my rage today... I could cry, thinking about the little eyes looking at me broken-hearted, after I yelled. Luckily, for 3 year olds, sandwiches at 10 pm with mom in the kitchen and a snuggle in a toddler bed seemed to make up for the no-good-rotten day. And big sister understood me too... as she drifted slowly to sleep, after all the mayhem, clutching my hand, she told me that she gets mad too, sometimes.... more lately, actually. She wonders why...
I know why. I just, sadly, can't fix it right now.
The best thing about today, is that it is over.
The best thing about life, is that I get a whole new day tomorrow... to try again... to love better... to say I am sorry... to tell my girls that Mommy sometimes has a booboo in my body that makes my heart sad... and ask them, could they please say a prayer so that mommy doesn't hurt so much that she says mean things anymore.
Tomorrow, I will tell them I think they are amazing. I will write them notes in their lunchboxes telling them that they are the lights of my life. I will GET OUT THE ELF and start our Christmas Elf tradition and find a way to make magic happen for them, while I find my new normal and continue my long long journey through treatment. I will drive my mom to the airport and we will talk and process and she will forgive me, because she is my mom... and I will do my best to be patient and listen and be open....
Tomorrow, I will change my perspective, change my attitude, possibly start a mantra or a vision... Maybe I will find the strength to go back to eating CLEAN, like I was. I will take a walk and move my body... I might even run. There is so much work I can do... and I will continue to do it. Tomorrow.
Now, it is late... I am weary to my bones and FINALLY, my children are sleeping and I can hear the comforting, rhythmic sounds of their breathing on the monitor. It is cold in my house and I am snuggled under a blanket and through the cracked door to my bedroom, I can see the twinkling Christmas lights on the staircase... I am slowing down and the tension is lifting and I am letting go. I know, SO WELL AND DEEP IN MY SOUL, that things could be ever so worse. I MUST REMEMBER to breathe... to practice gratitude... to pray for grace and forgive myself my bad days. I will do that again.... I will do that -tomorrow - and start anew, like I do every day.
For now, I will sleep... dreaming perchance, of a body - healthy and strong, happy and wild and good.
A dream. ( a hope, a wish...)
..... sleep.....