The other side

One year ago today, I was diagnosed with Invasive Ductal Carcinoma.

I still have the piece of paper I wrote those words down on because I couldn’t believe it was true.

And I’ve written and written and written about everything that’s changed in this past year. And about my fears. And my hopes. And my dreams.

I’ve written about my friends and the Filmmaker and the hope and the loss and the everything of everything.

I sat here and cried until I couldn’t anymore last night. For all of this. For all the loss.

And I got up this morning and I went and I taught.

Real life.

Trying to get back to real life.

A year ago, I didn’t know how I was going to get through it. I didn’t know where I would be a year later.

And here I am.

On the other side… sort of.

There’s still a long way to go to heal, to recover, to rebuild. Just because the treatment is over doesn’t mean I’m suddenly healthy and ready to take on the world. That’s the hard part. No one really understands unless they’ve been through it. Your body goes through a year of hell, it doesn’t necessarily bounce right back.

And my heart needs to heal. Not just from leaving the Filmmaker, but from… I don’t know what from. But it feels beaten and battered and just wants to rest. Not think about anyone but me for a while.

And I still miss the Filmmaker every day. But I’m choosing to appreciate and hold the memories of him close and relish their beauty. And it’s more like a wistful wanting, not the painful, difficult, heart-rending wanting. And I’m glad he’s still in my life, as distant and far away as he is.

But I need to heal in every way. Focus on me. Focus on where I’m going.

Because suddenly, I’m not sure where to go next. It is difficult to move on after focusing for a year on what comes next. There is really no next now. I’m on a new medication that suppresses my estrogen since my cancer is estrogen-positive and we don’t want any of that crap running around, breeding other little cancer spawn.

But it’s been a horrible week of crippling side effects – the deepest, darkest depression I’ve had in years, moments of suicidal thoughts because it just didn’t seem worth trying to get through this, epic fatigue and just the lack of will to do anything at all. I have barely eaten because I just don’t want to. And all I can think is if this is what being on this drug for the next five years is going to be like, I may just say, fuck it, and take my chances because I can’t live like this. Yesterday and today were better, though, so I’m hoping my body is adjusting and that this will just be one more bad week in the midst of one really horrible year.

So the other side…

That’s a big empty space, the other side. The good thing is that all the stuff I love about my life is still here on the other side. My teaching job, my friends, my artwork, my writing, all of that. I don’t need to figure out my whole life, just need to figure out where to put my feet. There is potential, there is hope, there is… the other side.

One foot in front of the other…

To the other side.

I’ll let you know what it looks like from there.