Today is World Cancer Survivor’s Day. I don’t know if I was supposed to celebrate or punch a wall.
I did neither
Instead, I sobbed and yelled at God today.
I know I’m not worthy. I know I’m not the greatest person. I make mistakes. I’m prone to jealousy and melancholy. But. I try. I love with my whole heart. I hate the lack of compassion in the world. I’m scared of the hate in the world. I know I’m not worthy. I know you don’t particularly care about me. I’m tired of being told you love me, you gave me this burden to grow, to show others how to move this rock. I’m tired. I just want to see my babies grow up. I’ve watched 15 high school graduation as a teacher. I’ve sat in 2 as a relative. Will I sit in S’s? In AJ’s? I know I’m not worthy. I know you don’t like me. But, dammit, I’m not the worst person in the world. I’m not the worst person in my family. People say you only give us what makes us stronger, but that’s crap. If this was to make me stronger, what’s next? All this has done is make me weaker. I know I’m not worthy. I’m just me. I wish I were good enough.
A told me he wishes I’d find some happy. “If you keep being miserable for something that hasn’t happened, you’re wasting time you could be happy.”
I know that. I do. I know being miserable, on guard, wondering when the cancer will return to rot my life as it rots my body, does me no good. I know.
But, on this graduation weekend, on this World Cancer Survivor’s Day, I wonder how many more I’ll live to see, and I damn myself for having cancer in the first place because if I didn’t have it, I’d never wonder if I’ll see my babies grow up, and I’d never give more than a passing thought to cancer.