It has been a tough week for me. The reality of what's to come and when it will all come to pass is hitting home. Life is getting real. And it is all coming fast and furious now. I have been doing my best to channel all my unwanted nervous energy into training and literally running away from those unwanted feelings. I have been trying to stay focused on my race, rather than my surgery. But inevitably I am starting to struggle to feel jazzy about the logistics of March 5th.
So this week while out on long run I had a hard time keeping it together when my ipod randomly shuffled on to "So Hard" by the Dixie Chicks. Don't judge me! You can take the girl outta the country, but you can't take the country outta the girl. And I confess I finished my last 5 km with tear stained cheeks. Here's what got me...
(*Note: you should probably play the video while you read the following for the desired effect. Unless of course you are super famillar with all things Dixie Chicks and don't require a point of reference - in which case rock on!*)
Why is fighting all that we're good at anymore?
Fighting this fight has defined this year. Fighting to stay positive. Fighting to be and stay healthy. It has consumed my world. It has become my focus. It has taken all my energy. It feels like fighting is all I do. I am longing for the day that I can look back and say that I am finally made it out to the other side.
Sometimes I don't have the engery to prove everybody wrong.
I have been fighting so hard to not be a number. To not be a statistic. To say that I am not defined by this. To do things, *ahem* like run a Half Marathon the day before surgery as a way of shouting to the world that I can and I will be healthy despite all the obstacles...just as an example. To say that I am not defined by my genetics. But it is exhausting. And it is starting to wear me down.
And I try my best to be strong, but it's so hard
Rationally I know this is the right choice. To be healthy and happy this step (albeit drastic) is required to guarantee that. I know all of this. I shout it to the world on this blog and to any passerby who is willing to listen. I want so much to be strong. I want to be an example, both for my family and for other women faced with similar challenges. I want to embrace this journey and relish it. But DAMN! When I sit back and think, really think, about what I am about to willing do to my body...it's hard.
Its so hard when it doesn't come easy
"Life is hard". "Life isn't fair". And "nothing worth anything comes easy", so the old adjage goes. But other things sure seem to come easier than this...
It so hard when it doesn't come fast
This process has been about as slow as it comes. It has consumed more than a year of my life. By the time Dday rolls around I will have spent the last 14 months wrapped up in worry, doctor's appointments, decision making, fretting, and tears. And it has all made it difficult to be in the moment and embrace the progress I have made. I am ready to be done with all of this.
And could we be happy if life wasn't how we pictured it
So this is the lyric that sent the tears brimming over the edge.
This isn't exactly how I saw life going. This isn't ideal. I saw myself in grad school, preparing to buy a home, discovering my dream job, enjoying being a (*relatively*) newly wed. I did not picture myself having to choose between mutilating my body and getting cancer. Not to mention being plagued by all the questions surrounding fertility, genetics, children, and how all of my Darwinian failings will effect my idea of one day starting a family.
It wasn't how I saw this going, so I am pretty sure it is safe to assume that it's probably not what my husband signed on for either. Not that my hopelessly supportive husband would ever dream of saying something like that. But the facts are these: as much as this is happening to my body, this is all happening to our life. And for that reason I am wrought with guilt.
Last night you told me you can't remember how to feel free
This journey has taken hold of my life, and I feel its presence in everything I do. I am longing, dreaming, hoping, wishing for this to all be over. To be free again.
Show me a vision of You and Me swimming peacefully
I am all too aware of the effect that this process has had on me, my family, and my life this year. But I know this process is finite, and that all the support I have been given during this journey will carry me through. This will soon come to an end. We will get there. I will get there. And my life will be better for it.
Love your Favourite Darwinian Fail,