I just don’t know what to say. Or how to say it. It is not that I don’t have anything to say anymore. I just don’t know how to put it in words.
We won. We’re home. Cole’s cancer free again. Everything is good now right?
Yes, and no.
… I didn’t realize how much was taken until I had to put it all back together. I didn’t anticipate the constant fear. The absolute disorientation. The sadness and anger. The inability to connect. The never-ending tears. (I thought I’d cried a lifetime’s worth already.)
And I didn’t expect the constant guilt I’d feel for feeling anything but happy and grateful. Or the shame for not being “okay”. Especially as I continue to watch so many suffering and know we are the lucky ones.
I AM happy and grateful that Cole is cancer free and off treatment. But that doesn’t make the rubble that is ‘what was our life’ any easier to sift through. It doesn’t make figuring out who I am supposed to be when who I WAS got whacked over the head and transformed into a “cancer” mom. Now the context of that person I was before no longer exists and the cancer is gone too. Now what? Get a life? A job? A hobby? What if I can barely function outside of “survival mode”? Until this moment I haven’t even been able to find the words to write about where we’ve been. Can’t even begin to think about where we’re going. The best I can do today is try to share where I am in the present moment.
Just like every rocky, rough patch, every peak and every valley on this long long road has been temporary, I know this place I’m at today is too. But today, I am not okay.
This is what winning looks like for me.