Today, a very raw and hurtful truth reared itself in Sunday school. We were in 2 Corinthians and the discussion centered on verse 4 about God being our comforter; He consoles us and is where we find peace. . . . and He has certainly done that for me. BUT then the discussion leaned toward how we are supposed to share that with others when they are in need. After listening to everyone talk about their personal stories of comforting others, all the hurt I've tried to hide and not deal with came tumbling to the surface. I let them know they weren't doing the wonderful job they thought they were. I gave them some RAW TRUTH about how I was abandoned and ignored when I needed it the most. I'm sure I embarrassed my husband. It will be hard and a little awkward to face them all again after today.
Nobody in my church family brought food while I was recovering. Only one person in my Sunday School class sent a card. Nobody called. NObody visited me. I was alone with only my husband, unable to do laundry, vacuum, cook, shower by myself. . . . . it was a painful recovery, physically and emotionally. I'm still recovering. Where were all my church family? Where were all my friends? I noticed they took meals to other people and helped others in times of need. Why not me? It's been 2 years and the pain of being abandoned, ignored and forgotten has never gone away.
A COMMENT ON FACEBOOK DOESN'T COUNT PEOPLE!!! (Read that again)
I wished I could've shared both the good and the bad of cancer’s aftermath with ANYone who would listen. I was good at faking my strength and that I was fine, so people assumed I was fine I suppose. As long as they couldn’t see the ways in which cancer had changed me, perhaps that made it easier for them to imagine that cancer hadn’t changed me at all. As anyone who’s gone through diagnosis and treatment knows, that's not true at all. I AM CHANGED! But nobody notices or asks.
Is it my flatness that makes them uncomfortable or makes them feel awkward? Is it difficult to see how my clothes hang without my breasts to fill them out? Maybe they'd rather not think about my breast free chest and what caused it, or maybe they are thinking that they might be next, or maybe my brave face and jokes about a lack of cleavage leaves them to think that I'm doing great. I'm told I look wonderful. I'm told that I appear strong. None of it is true. The raw truth is that I'm hurting and sad. I hate going to my Oncologist and surgeon, getting my blood drawn, and hands groping my flat chest for any changes. I have lasting side-effects from treatment, and I’ve had cancer-recurrence nightmares.
I was told today that everyone assumed I had tons of friends and was being surrounded by them and family. Yeah. . . . I thought I had tons of friends too, but crappy cancer showed me they weren't real. My husband was the family that surrounded me, and even he doesn't like to hear or talk about my "feelings" when it comes to this raw truth. So, I bottle it up inside.
I'm trying to get past it, and honestly thought I was doing better about putting the hurt away in a box in the back of my mind, at least until this morning. I have severe anxiety and hardly ever leave the house. Now, I'm not sure I'll even be able to go back to my Sunday School class after this morning. . . . . that's the raw truth!
I've lost a lot.
I've lost my figure.
I've lost friends.
I've lost bone.
I've lost sleep.
I've lost hair and nails.
I've lost my energy.
I've lost my confidence.
I've lost my sex drive.
I've lost ME.
I've lost myself, the person I used to be. I'm trying to find the new me. But, I feel alone in that and it makes me really sad. Today only magnified my sadness with crappy cancer and all that I've lost. . . . and that's the raw truth.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.