Am I Okay?

"How are you?" Have you ever thought about this little phrase? We go around saying it all the time, but we don't really mean it. It's really nothing more than a polite gesture with an equally polite "good and you?" retort. I get asked this question repeatedly throughout my work day as I'm sure most people do and my answer is always the same - a polite "Good". But the truth of the matter is I'm not good. I'm not even just okay. I'm a mess. Sure, I do a pretty good job of holding it all together while I'm at work, at least on most days, but at home, around the people I'm most comfortable, the people I love the most, they see a much darker side. A side that I'm ashamed to admit I have become.

 

When I was pregnant with each of my children, except the last, I had incredibly horrible morning sickness through the fifth month. The only way of describing how I felt was a cross between the worst hangover ever and as if I had been hit by a truck. I consider myself to be a strong person, capable of dealing with a lot, but after months of being so sick, I would just cry daily. I was sick and tired of being sick and tired. I believe we're capable of dealing with anything, any amount of pain, but it's the duration of the situation or the pain that wears on us.

 

That's pretty much where I am. I'm tired of doing this. I tired of taking 100-150 supplements a day. I'm tired of not being able to eat the foods I once enjoyed, not even in moderation. I'm tired of having to drink carrot juice. I'm tired of having to pack everything I will need for the day, including filtered water, to go to work. I'm tired of carrying it all around. It's been almost 16 months now since I was diagnosed and I'm tired.

 

I have plenty of days when I think what really is the purpose of this. Why prolong the inevitable? I'm a huge financial burden on my family, every month going further and further in debt. I feel guilty for how I treat the people I supposedly love the most. I have days when I act like such a monster I'm quite certain I am causing more damage to my children being alive than I would being dead.  So if I'm going to succumb to this anyway why not speed up the process. I feel discouraged and hopeless.

 

I'm sure you're wondering what has changed that has led me to feel this way. So I'll back up to my last ultrasound.

 

In the days following my ultrasound at Hillman, I was mostly confused, confused about the results. As the days turned into weeks and the confusion turned into anger those words that they spoke to me that day continued to play in my head. And my own thoughts echoed more of the same - this was so stupid, why did you think you could do this, what were you thinking. Doubt mixed with fear completely took over.

 

At that point I was teetering on the edge and then the mass grew. Unlike how it shrunk, it grew practically overnight. It went from so small I could barely feel it to unbelievably big. So small I could feel the titanium marker to oh crap this can't be good. All the months of hard work GONE!! It was and is bigger than it ever has been and for no obvious reason. I started questioning everything. Was it this? Was it that? And over the edge I went.

 

I prayed, had people pray with me, for me, over me. I wasn't praying necessarily for healing, though that would have been an acceptable answer to my prayers. I was praying for God to take away my feelings of absolute despair. All I wanted was to feel better.

 

Then one morning I awoke from my sleep abruptly. I don't think it was a dream, but more of just an intense feeling that I needed to read my Bible. I randomly opened to Romans and began reading. My feelings of despair lifted. I had a good day. As long as I read good days followed. I'm not talking wonderful, joyful days, but days that I didn't want to jump in a hole and cover myself with dirt.

 

It seemed to be one message repeated to me in different ways for the following week. The message was I needed to have faith, faith like Abraham. Either I believe in God and believe His word is truth or I don't. I know His hand has been over me this entire journey. I know I am doing what I am supposed to do. I know this is His plan. So as far as options, I have none. That may seem completely foolish to most people, but I know without a shadow of any doubt this is the only option for me.

 

So I guess the real question is not how am I, but am I okay. And the answer to that is no, I'm not. I'm better than I was. But I'm worn down. I don't look sick, I have my hair back so everyone pretty much expects things to be back to normal and they're not. I carry this heavy emotional weight around and it's taking its toll.

I would say today has been the best day I have had in awhile. I feel like fighting again. I feel as though the battle is mine to win. Surviving is my only option. 

I know there have been a lot of unreturned phone calls, texts, and messages. I hope no one is taking it personally. I'm not mad at anyone. You haven't offended me. I just don't feel like talking on the phone. I don't feel like going out. I don't feel like being around people. Mostly I just need time to be by myself and time to concentrate on doing what I need to do.

So continue to pray for me, I can certainly use it.