Interesting fact: it has been so long since I updated this blog that it took me awhile to actually figure out how to draft a new post. Perhaps I should be more diligent about writing. But that requires effort....
Anyway, it's December. Which is just mind blowing, since it has been seven months since last I wrote. I remember hearing that time just speeds up as you age. I can't understand how it could possibly get faster than this! Either way, it's been awhile. Which is basically the sentence you will find at the start of every post I've written for the past two years.
In terms of my ongoing cancer-ness I've got two things to talk about. Let's jump right in, shall we.
1) I might be "Debbie Downer"
While I don't write often about cancer, I still talk about it often. Maybe too much, if you ask the people in my life that have to hear about it. I just can't help myself. I don't want to be that person who is like "When I did chemo..." or "After cancer..." but I find it creeps in to conversation a lot. Perhaps it is because it wasn't all that long ago. Or maybe its because I'm still in treatment, though it is only a pill a day. I think it might be because cancer is really scary and I'm still learning to process it.
It's probably that last one.
Which sort of leads to number 2.
2) I'm going to therapy, guys!
Yep, I've finally said "I'm sick of being a worry-wart. I'd like to change that." I've also said "Is there a pill for that?" which it turns out, there is. So I'm on that pill. Hopefully not forever, but for now. Since I hope not to be on the pill forever, I'm also meeting with a therapist to try and work through my anxiety.
Now, I've always been an anxious person. I know, I seem so calm and collected (maybe?) but I'm not. I worry, obsessively, about many things. People I love dying is one. Since 2011, having cancer kill me is another. Also, "did I leave the hair straightener on?" Ugh, that one.
Initially I though it was just the cancer diagnoses that had made me into a crazy worrier but after about 10 seconds of reflection I was forced to admit that basically my whole life has been a study in anxiety. Now, I'm sure I'll never be as casual and un-worried as the calmer people in my life, but I'm looking to move more in the "chill-lady" direction on the anxiety scale. So I meet semi-regularly with a psychiatry resident who is based out of the hospital in their pyscho-social oncology program and we talk about how much I worry, and how I channel all of my other emotions into worry instead of just dealing with sadness or anger or whatever, and how I'm a control freak (I'm paraphrasing here) who also doesn't want to make any decisions. It's basically the most unpleasant hour of my week. I cry. It's awkward, with prolonged periods of seriously weird eye contact but I've decided this is the journey. Personal change isn't easy, it's probably supposed to feel really awkward and weird. So, I guess that means I'm on the right path. I'll let you know how it goes.
Anyway, it's December. Which is just mind blowing, since it has been seven months since last I wrote. I remember hearing that time just speeds up as you age. I can't understand how it could possibly get faster than this! Either way, it's been awhile. Which is basically the sentence you will find at the start of every post I've written for the past two years.
In terms of my ongoing cancer-ness I've got two things to talk about. Let's jump right in, shall we.
1) I might be "Debbie Downer"
While I don't write often about cancer, I still talk about it often. Maybe too much, if you ask the people in my life that have to hear about it. I just can't help myself. I don't want to be that person who is like "When I did chemo..." or "After cancer..." but I find it creeps in to conversation a lot. Perhaps it is because it wasn't all that long ago. Or maybe its because I'm still in treatment, though it is only a pill a day. I think it might be because cancer is really scary and I'm still learning to process it.
It's probably that last one.
Which sort of leads to number 2.
2) I'm going to therapy, guys!
Yep, I've finally said "I'm sick of being a worry-wart. I'd like to change that." I've also said "Is there a pill for that?" which it turns out, there is. So I'm on that pill. Hopefully not forever, but for now. Since I hope not to be on the pill forever, I'm also meeting with a therapist to try and work through my anxiety.
Now, I've always been an anxious person. I know, I seem so calm and collected (maybe?) but I'm not. I worry, obsessively, about many things. People I love dying is one. Since 2011, having cancer kill me is another. Also, "did I leave the hair straightener on?" Ugh, that one.
Initially I though it was just the cancer diagnoses that had made me into a crazy worrier but after about 10 seconds of reflection I was forced to admit that basically my whole life has been a study in anxiety. Now, I'm sure I'll never be as casual and un-worried as the calmer people in my life, but I'm looking to move more in the "chill-lady" direction on the anxiety scale. So I meet semi-regularly with a psychiatry resident who is based out of the hospital in their pyscho-social oncology program and we talk about how much I worry, and how I channel all of my other emotions into worry instead of just dealing with sadness or anger or whatever, and how I'm a control freak (I'm paraphrasing here) who also doesn't want to make any decisions. It's basically the most unpleasant hour of my week. I cry. It's awkward, with prolonged periods of seriously weird eye contact but I've decided this is the journey. Personal change isn't easy, it's probably supposed to feel really awkward and weird. So, I guess that means I'm on the right path. I'll let you know how it goes.
Isn't it a huge relief to find out there IS a pill for that? Or even just a small portion of that? Yay, SCIENCE!
ReplyDeleteCall me and we can commiserate our Debbie Downer stories and then just end up laughing and not actually solving any problems. Cry, laugh, cry laugh...
I just tried and I got voicemail. You can thank me later for not leaving a message.
Delete