I think my heart broke 2 years ago. I think it broke to the point that it will never truly be repaired.
No matter how hard I try I can’t remember what it was like to be me prior to January 8th 2015. I said in a previous post that all of this has made me a better version of myself, which is true, but it has also shown me how I have a tendency to bury my feelings, pretend it’s all ok, smile and carry on. The great British way!
It’s not so hard to keep up the charade when something bad happens then life carries on, time really is a magnificent healer. Living in what can only be described as a nightmare for two years has meant that the feelings I have been burying for so long are slowly rising and I’ve acknowledged small differences in my behaviour. I feel anxious a lot of the time, I shake like I’ve drunk too much coffee, I’m losing the ability to see the positives and I struggle to relate to most people, meaning I find myself closing up in or avoiding social situations. The main trigger for this I believe was when chemotherapy ended and the hospital grip was loosened. We were effectively left to go it alone (obviously we are not, we still have a team on the end of the phone should we need it!) the regular hospital visits and the knowledge that something was being done was strangely comforting and I really didn’t realise that until it was gone – the old cliche!
I have had a few counselling sessions now, I found a local lady who just lets me sit and talk about everything, no judgement and no need for her to try and make me feel better. Friends and family are so amazing and I am eternally grateful to those people who send me a message every now and again, just to let me know they are there, but their job is to make you feel better, bring all the positives to the table when actually sometimes you just want someone to agree that it’s all a bit shit, and just listen.
I’ll never stop smiling though, even through my tears.