I am a thinker. I have always been a thinker. My mind tends to work overtime, even when I’m surrounded by people I can hear the gentle hum of the cogs in my mind working and this by some distance is probably my greatest enemy; my own mind. I don’t think things have ever been different, but Leukaemia has become the accelerator between the thoughts my mind produce to the snowball effect that follows.
Being overly sensitive to the smallest action, words, mere expressions enabled me to not only distance myself from people, but also get an idea of what people were like before I had the chance to properly get to know them. Although I wish I had Legolas’ elf eye to see into the future, I’m sure what would be best for me would be the exact opposite; ignorance.
I am not ashamed at all to admit that over the past two months I’ve lost faith a number of times, I’ve questioned my life, and I’ve probably fallen as low and deep into a pit of misery and loneliness that I ever could have imagined. I’ve seen how my illness has affected those around me, how they’ve responded, but also how it has affected me seeing this. I envy those that take everything in their stride (Seriously, you are not human.) who can let go, move on, never think twice about an encounter.
How you train your mind (not your dragon) will determine how you react in any given situation – no matter how much you avoid reality the second you come back down to earth it hits you; so hard that you can’t breathe sometimes. On the 19th of January I found out I was in remission (Yay..?) but I just could not be happy. Seeing my sister and dad’s face light up, the gentle pat on the back from him, the smile that was on his face when he would tell our family the good news. I just couldn’t be happy, I could have drowned myself in a pool of negativity at that point. But how could I be happy when I hadn’t even accepted that I was ill in the first place? – I only had the courage to say the C word last week, and that was in anger. It’s as if I’ve put a barrier between that and Leukaemia, as if they’re not even remotely related.
Having insight into your own mind is the first place to start when it comes to changing yourself, you may be fragile, scared as to what people might think about the storm of thoughts going through your mind “What will happen to me?” “What if i don’t make it through?” “I don’t want to do this anymore”; But for those that love you, understanding you is a given extra, and if I should learn anything it is to never fear ridicule from the people that will be there for you. When you come to this stage in life, what people think, say, how they react is the last thing that should be given any importance. You can’t expect people to truly understand how you feel – regardless, that is too big an ask.
No matter how broken a mind is, it CAN be fixed. It can learn to be patient, be calm, and break out of the prison it feels stuck in. Nothing is impossible no matter how it might seem. And I hope, that I find the strength both physically and mentally to break free from this mindset, to learn to let go, to move on, to appreciate more the family and the friends that have stood by me, forgiven me, listened to me crying (booing uncontrollably) in the middle of the night, not become frustrated by the repetitive sentences that roll off my tongue, and not become tired of telling me the same thing over and over again – it will all be okay.
Time to get the tools out and do a bit of DIY on this mindless mind of mine..
..I remember the numerous number of times I have not had control over my mind (these are the more funny ones.. well, they weren’t at the time) but going back to when I was first admitted to the Marsden, my sleeping tablets – Zopiclone, made me hallucinate. And who did I see? A character from my favourite film? Nope. A member of my family? Naa. It was the Hulk. He came and visited me right in the middle of the bay; of course the other elderly patients there weren’t aware of our visitor. But he started digging a big hole in the middle of the room – telling me how he felt betrayed by some very big people. (I never understood what he said, and its probably no wonder why he didn’t visit me again) No better are the incomprehensible messages I send a short time after I’ve taken my sleeping tablets – my brother and I call it being ‘Zopi’. Maybe I should write a post after I’ve taken one?? Or not.. Things started to get a little out of hand when I commented on my brother’s facebook status about a veggie burger. Needless to say even he couldn’t understand what I wrote.
Before I finish, I probably should have said from the offset that when I created this blog I did it mainly with the intention that it would help me, help me get my thoughts out and help people understand what this might feel like. This post was NOT intended to be depressing (The essay says otherwise) but if anything I write can help anyone then that’s an added bonus.
Lastly, an inspirational quote from an equally inspirational author.
“There’s something amazing about this life. The very same worldly attribute that causes us pain is also what gives us relief: Nothing here lasts. What does that mean? It means that the breathtakingly beautiful rose in my vase will wither tomorrow. It means that my youth will neglect me. But it also means that the sadness I feel today will change tomorrow. My pain will die. My laughter won’t last forever but neither will my tears. We say this life isn’t perfect. And it isn’t. It isn’t perfectly good. But, it also isn’t perfectly bad, either.”
― Yasmin Mogahed
Next post: happy, a little humorous and with lots of photos!
Update: Bone marrow biopsy number three over yesterday. I was meant to be ‘sedated’.. but all I will say is they’ll probably need a tranquilliser next time to knock me out.