The past few days have been really busy and a couple of days ago I was crying and numb all over the place, I just couldn’t help it, but with help from Mum I seem to have picked myself up a bit.
Yesterday we did some Christmas shopping, met a friend for lunch, met more friends for coffee, and I had yoga, which was so quiet with three people in the studio compared to fourteen on Monday! Monday I was crying when I went in, realized I forgot my mat, fell down the stairs coming out of the studio to get it (so now my knee is all pretty colours, and hurts almost as much as my back) but by the end of the class I had calmed significantly. I really enjoy going to the classes and believe they are good for me and my mental health.
I’ve also started walking around the lake path I love- Tuesday I was ill prepared with it being the middle of the day, in my jeans, with no music, so I only did one lap but I plan on increasing that and do it at least three times a week. My HR gets really tachy but it’s worth it for the exercise. I’m so thankful Mum is supporting, even encouraging, my yoga and walks.
Mum announced at the beginning of the week that she wanted me to put my intake in her hands, with no NG fortisip- just the oral intake she prepares for me (with a heavy reliance on this website she has found which I will link here, when she wakes up) for a couple of weeks and she promises I will feel better. I’ve got to say: I freaked. I was petrified. I didn’t want to eat, I didn’t want to drink, I mean even water is a fear food for me. Anything that is good for me… I don’t want to know about, and neither does the voice. After I have something, the voice gets louder and more degrading and wants me to self harm, or suicide. It’s not easy to ignore. So me agreeing to try my best with mums proposal is HUGE and I don’t know how long it will last, but I’m trying, and that’s all my treatment team expect from me at the moment.
On Monday we had quite the scare. The kitchen knife went missing. Mum politely tried to suggest that I have a look around for it- that maybe I dissociated and didn’t remember. I was offended and adamant it had nothing to do with me and swore I didn’t have it. Cut to that night, and I found it in my room. Usually when I dissociate I can tell because I lose time, find things I’ve done that I don’t remember doing etc., but I was so sure nothing had happened. It’s scary, to be honest. There’s nothing we can do about it. I didn’t even mention it to my case manager on Tuesday, because I bolted as soon as she started talking about intake and I started crying.
On Sunday we have a family portrait happening. We’ve never had one in our entire life but it was a suggestion from mums work, and we agreed it will be a good thing to have done. I’m still not really looking forward to it. I look like a potato at the best of times. But poor Mum, she’s just desperately trying to hang on to her hair until it’s done, which is falling out at a rate of knots. Speaking of chemo, this Monday Mum starts another week of it. Please keep her in your prayers. I wish I could be the one who’s sick. I hate to see her going through all this when I just want to take the pain away from her but there’s nothing I can do except be there for her every moment. It’s certainly kicked my butt into gear. I’m so much more productive, trying to ignore the voice and the negative thoughts I’m plagued by- trying to make things easier.
Also, as a quick side note: congratulations Australia for making the right decision with #voteyes winning yesterday- finally some equality because #loveislove. We saw a rainbow on the drive home yesterday- someone upstairs is obviously proud and thinks it’s the right decision, too!
(credit to Gorman for the artwork.)