Dreamy Warrior

I was asked yesterday by a fellow terminal patient how I coped with the feeling of being a burden. This is a very big heavy box to unload, and it’s one I struggle with everyday. In the earlier days of diagnosis, I hated seeing what MY cancer was doing to my family. Everyone was stressed, on edge, not sleeping well etc... it was MY fault because it was MY cancer. After talking it out with them, I have to just trust in their words that this is happening to us all. That cancer happened to me. It’s not me. It’s not mine. It doesn’t define me. And yet, I still feel like a burden. I try to be independent when I can, and I choose the worst times to be it - vomiting in the middle of the night, struggling to sleep because my stomach feels like it’s poking out of my ribs, sternum on fire from acid reflux.... it’s a fucking lonely business. It’s like I purposely give the easier tasks to my loved ones and then suffer through the harder ones alone. Like it’s a fair trade off for dying. I ...

Today is R U OK? Day... also known as the day where some people share their own struggles and others let friends know they’re willing shoulders on which to cry. The problem is that people who need to reach out, often don’t. As much as we try every year, every day, every hour... there is still a fucking stigma when it comes to mental health. Whether it be cultural, religious, generational, or the awful combination of all of the above. Where you’re made to feel that your feelings are not valid because they can’t be seen. So we put our masks back on, accept that we’ll always be broken and maybe this time won’t be as bad as last time. I’ve been struggling with depression since I was a kid. There have been a couple of times in my life where it had gotten really bad, but I pulled through. I thought I was tough as nails for having “beat” depression on my own. How fucking wrong I was. Depression wasn’t beaten, merely beaten back, for now. It was lying in wait for years, creeping o...

A year ago, we saw Hamilton the musical. The major theme in the storytelling was legacy, and how different people try to achieve it. One had fiery passion and drive, while another believed about waiting for the right moment. I related hard to both views. More so the latter. Typical Pisces, always having opposing currents pulling at their insides. I had strong passions but I am also too practical for my own good. I was worried I wouldn’t leave much of a legacy so I worked on writing and completing a book (done), finishing a screenplay/tv pilot script (20% of the way but unlikely to finish) and other harebrained dreams, hoping I would get recognition or happiness from them. In the end, I never achieved anything except some small feeling of accomplishment and a tiny boost in my drive to do more. That’s when I fell into twitch streaming. I strived to create a community for people struggling with mental health issues, the LGBTQ+ community, women, people of colour and people on the au...

Resentment. It’s like a poison worse than chemo or cancer that eats away at your soul. Yet everyday, it grows stronger inside me. I resent people who have continued living their lives. Lives I used to be a part of. Now they’re off having great career moves, babies, engagements, weddings, holidays, food comas.... and I’m happy for them but I also resent that they have that and I don’t anymore. (Well not the babies and marriage, I already have one and don’t want the other). I especially resent listening or seeing complaints from people about the small stuff. Got a cold but call yourself diseased? Fuck off. It’s almost like a resentment that feeds into “cancer entitlement”. Like “I have cancer, will likely die young, can I please have great quality of life and comfort while possible?” - that’s reasonable right? But when a cancer patient doesn’t get the basic entitlement, it grows into unreasonable entitlement and resentment. I’m teetering on the edge. And about to start ...

My teeth hurt, I’m coughing a fair bit, chest is sore and sternum on fire... not to mention the bad burps too. But it’s worth feeling like shit if I get more days like yesterday. It started bad with a LOT of anxiety when I went out in public (not hospital) for the first time since I cut my hair. I wore a beanie because I get so cold, so I look like I have cancer now .. and it made me self conscious and uncomfortable. My hair has always been a big part of my identity and I guess I never felt how much it was protection too. To hide from the world. To look normal. Untouched by the evil cancers. I had to go home, I didn’t feel well. Nausea induced by anxiety. Then I had my psych appointment and she assured me it was just anxiety. We talked about ways to cope and just generally how our minds work when it comes to trying to be mindful. How scientifically, our brains are wired to constantly loop the shitty thoughts in the back of our minds and we can’t change that. We can work on moving aw...

I hate being called a fighter Being a fighter means I’m in a battle A battle means there’s a chance I’ll lose The truth is I lost the day I got diagnosed I’m sick of the positive outlook from people who either don’t have cancer or don’t have the same cancer and situation. “Everyone is different” after all... Nobody else has to live the ‘day’ in ‘one day at a time’ Only me. Nobody else feels the constant pain, chest tightness, despair and absolute heartbroken desolation at feeling zero relief after two difficult chemo sessions. Oh the tumour looks smaller? Good. Why does my GE junction feel smaller too? Eating has only gotten harder. And so has living. And that’s the honest ugly broken truth. No, I’m not ok. Cancer is a fucking bitch.

Today I want to give you everything That I cannot give myself There’s nothing more I want than to be able to feel I try to smile, but my eyes don’t look like me anymore They crinkle downwards in sadness Because none of my happiness is real The world is drowned out By the ringing in my ears I made jokes about losing my hair But it burns and it hurts Yet it’s nothing compared To how I feel about losing it all Losing you, losing me Losing everything All that runs through my mind is how I want to leave this cage of disease But I try to hold on because I worry How everyone will live without me There’s many more colours I want to splash across this world And if I don’t, I know you’ll put my face on the moon if you could The darkness tries so hard to cover me each day So let’s laugh together now, through the tears Because the unknown is staring back at us Let’s make happy memories to keep it away One day, the black dog or the sickness could win That’s when the ferryman stamps my ticket and t...

Yesterday, for the first time in what feels like forever, I laughed a genuine happy/funny laugh. A big one. There have been small ones here and there, but they were always the empty ones. It feels like I’m standing behind a glass wall and I can’t reach out to everything and everyone on the other side. I can watch and they can see me react but nothing real gets through. But yesterday, while resting on my chair, and having a bit of a cry with Stephen, as we often do to “let the weakness out”, I had a painful spasm but Steve didn’t notice and randomly started jiggling my thigh with his hand. I looked at him, perplexed and he in turn was confused at my reaction. “What? You don’t like me jiggling your thigh? Haha!” “I was having a spasm!!!” “Oh.. did the jiggling help?” It was so absurd that we both started laughing through the tears. It felt so good. I want more laughter. I want to laugh all the way to my fucking grave. With both middle fingers up, flipping off death and depress...