Leaky emotions

Sometimes I think I'm carrying on quite well, participating in activities, interacting with family and friends, doing the best I can despite my limitations, drug reactions and discomforts, but every once in a while I blow a gasket, shattering the illusion I'm coping okay.

I threw a brief, three-year-old-style temper tantrum this morning while leaving the house, complete with a scream, foot stomping and sour face. Then I sat in the car with my arms crossed, stewing in my own ugliness all the way to work. Poor Michael.

Don't get me wrong, I think I'm doing a pretty darn good job of managing the stress, uncertainty and chaos in my life. I'm managing to work a full-time job, be a part-time guinea pig (oops, clinical trials patient), a full-time mom, a wife, friend, sister, daughter, etc. I may not be doing them all up to the standards I previously held for myself, which is hard for me, but I'm doing the best I can. And part of me has to lower the unrealistic illusion I need to attain those pre-conceived standards of my - and mine alone - acceptability. Sometimes the best I can do IS good enough.

Last night, the maurauding, midnight gremlins snuck into my head for about an hour to torment my brain with random thoughts. Luckily, shortly after I awoke, I realized I'd forgotten my lorazepam and wandered to the kitchen to remedy the oversight. Once it kicked in, I slid into dreamland, but in the meantime, I got to explore some of those dark-of-night thoughts.

I realized I'm sad about the end of summer. For a season that was supposed to be so fabulous, cancer-free and fun, it certainly didn't turn out that way. I've spent most of the summer bloated, in pain or feeling unwell. My favourite activities were curtailed and worst of all, I felt like I spent the entire season waiting instead of doing.

I've anticipated getting into the clinical trial, starting treatment, getting the port in/out, starting the drug, establishing the side effects, feeling better. I feel stuck in a holding pattern. I want to move forward, but I don't know how or what I can do. Even though I'm not a big fan of fall, and I hate winter, a small part of me welcomes it because perhaps then I'll be better.

But then a small voice in the back of my head says, "Maybe not." And of course, that scares me. So what do I do? I can't spend my life waiting because that's not living. But my brain and feet are stuck in a inert glue. It makes me sad.

I know I'll figure something out since the thoughts are in my consciousness, but it may take me some time. For now, I'm rambling during my post-tantrum blues.

Thanks, as always, for listening.

Tina