Most Days

Most days are great.  I am alive.  I am lucky to be alive.  Most days are gifts.

On the odd day, like today, however… I struggle to be grateful.  I don’t know why.  It just hits me.  I am hit with a weight that bottoms me out, gives me despair, leads me astray… wondering… about … everything.

Then the guilt hits.  How can I be so ungrateful?  This day has been delivered to me complete with a ribbon of sunshine wrapped around it.  It is glorious.  I should be shouting from the rooftops.  I should be biking, hiking, walking.  Yet – I can’t seem to get up and out of bed without an effort.  I’m not tired.  I’m just tired.  What?

I think of cancer everyday. I know I ought not to – there is no sense in worrying.  I don’t talk about it every day because I don’t even want to admit that I think about it.  Every pain, every cough, every sore spot on my body… is “cancer”.  It must be.  How can I be cancer free?  It is impossible.  I have to stop myself from my imagination.  It would run rampant if I let it.  So – I suppress it.  I hold it down.  I control it.  I discipline it.  That makes me tired.  It is so much easier to believe I am still ill than to fight that belief.

All along, I have written this blog as honestly as I can.  Today is no exception to the rule.  I won’t stay in this funk forever.  I will fight it.  You know I will.  Yet, I feel compelled to spill my inner thoughts of this moment – right now.  To remember.  To help others.  To help myself.  In case anyone else feels the same way I do right now.  In case I forget that there are days when life is glorious outside yet dark inside. I am living an irony.  I hear the birds singing and I feel blue.  What?  I see the green leaves glisten in the sun and I ignore them.  I am not myself today.

Still, I will get up.  Today Kevin and I are going apple-picking.  I know it will be fun.  I imagine what the apples will feel like, smell like, and taste like…?  There – outside – I will be assaulted by nature.  I will have no choice but to succumb to its uplifting glory.  I don’t have the strength to fight it.  Good.  This is one time my weakness will be my saving grace.


Tis the season.

Most days, I look forward.  Most days are good days.

Maybe I am reflecting too much on the anniversaries of the past year’s events?  It is difficult to “go there” to last year.  Yet, I feel drawn in.  I need to reflect so that I can appreciate where I am.  Where we all are.

Most days….

About inmycorner

This blog began as an opportunity to tell my Dad's stories. I sat with him and the computer and together we told stories. It was a wonderful way to get to know Dad. He was 9. He and Mom had a wonderful life together and since she passed away a year and a half before him - Dad was ready to join her. I no longer tell his stories but have found stories of my own. The impetus to resume this blog was the discovery that I had stage 4 ovarian cancer. Since blogging had been so therapeutic for my dad and I to get through our grief, I felt maybe this would be a good outlet to process my situation. I also hoped it may serve as an outreach to anyone else who is facing this very ominous journey. So far, so good.
This entry was posted in cancer, journal, prose, reflection. Bookmark the permalink.

21 Responses to Most Days

  1. Gwen K says:

    Wish I were there right now to give a supportive hug. Right now a virtual hug will have to suffice. “HUG”.

  2. pixieannie says:

    You have travelled a journey that most will never understand. A journey full of uncertainties and often, the unknown. If writing helps, write and we will listen. I can understand your feelings of disbelief and it is not that long ago that you received the life-changing news. Becoming a patient, undergoing treatments, enduring pain, heartache, torturous moments and questioning your own mortality focus on one thing…. the cancer. When the treatments end and the routine changes, you don’t return to being who you once were. Things are very different. It takes time and there is no right or wrong way to feel. Feel free to shout from the roof tops, as loud as you can and we will listen. Sending love and very gentle hugs. x

  3. Laura Brown says:

    beautifully written Stacey! I know that dedicated focus takes energy and strength, but it gives back so much more! You are a fighter – NEVER forget that. You are in my prayers. You WILL kick cancers ass back to where it belongs!

    Laura B.

  4. April says:

    So many of your posts reflect my thoughts. I am just a little more than 4 years cancer free but I continue to think about it most days. Not every single day like I used to, but I had to seek therapy to help me deal with my anxiety. I also have guilt for surviving. For not losing my hair. For not feeling like I suffered enough (I had surgery and was fortunate it was a stage 1). I have read articles over and over about new breakthroughs, prognosis statistics. I feel grateful for every day I am given but I can empathize with what you feel on the inside when dark feelings seem to over rule the blessing of each day.

  5. Maureen says:

    I’ll share this with my niece – thank you for your honesty

  6. Feelings are like the clouds; they come and they go—and always will. All we can do usually is to “weather” them and remember that the sun’s faithfully there, clouds or no clouds. Thanks be.

  7. Gallivanta says:

    It has been a tumultuous year for you. I am glad most days are good days. Enjoy the apple picking.

    • inmycorner says:

      yes – it has – lots and lots of living, though, has happened in one year. Maybe there was more living while the fear of dying loomed? I am enjoying life, thanks, so much!

  8. djrakiey says:

    Blessings & love for you always.

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