I cannot begin to express how it feels for a control freak to completely lose control and not be able to do anything about it. The chemotherapy drugs, all of the drugs involved in attempting relief of the side effects of chemo and the side effects themselves have teamed up against me. I am accustomed to being in control of my body and my mind and this part of the process is proving very difficult for me. My emotions have completely run amok and I can't seem to talk to anyone these days without crying.
I realize that it is the medications and fatigue that is getting to me, but all the same it is very frustrating as I am attempting to be strong and realistic about what is going on. It really boils down to control. Cancer is not something you can control; chemotherapy and its effects on the mind and body are also something you cannot control. This realization is very difficult for me. I am fine when I am on my own and going about my usual routine. I am also fine when I go out in public and am around other people. The problem starts when I begin to open up and talk about how I feel; when someone shows concern or asks me questions about how I am doing - the buckets of tears start to flow.
Yesterday, I thought I'd be brave and go to a guided imagery class at the cancer center. I was in a room with several other women going through the class process. Everyone there was dealing with some sort of cancer and they all seemed normal and fine. When the doctor (teacher) of the class got around to asking me a question, I broke down and started crying in front of everyone and was completely overwhelmed with emotion. Embarrassing and frustrating for me.
Control...it's so controlling. After talking to my mother, a dear friend and one of my son's today, I realize that I simply need to let it go. My son reminded me that if I try to figure out how to let it go that I am still trying to control my feelings - that it is possible to let go and take one day or minute at a time. To release the tension and stress that I am holding onto so tightly is essential to aiding in my recovery process. Logically, I know these things; years of being who I am makes this difficult to accomplish. I guess I'm wound a bit more tightly than I thought I was.
Another bridge to cross and hopefully some peaceful paths ahead.
Cheryl, you are tough and strong and your control is part of your "operating system". But when people reach out to you and offer sympathy or support, or even ask how you are doing, it's kind of like your safety valve and your determination to be strong fails. But that's OK, let things just be what they are. Tears are not weakness. Holy shit, you are going through such a lot, so please be forgiving with yourself. When Anna Marie was in the ICU for her brain surgery, I kept a strong face for the world, but cried like a baby in private. I admire your strength and honest approach to this crisis, I don't think I would hold it together as well in your place. But it IS ok to cry. Hope to see you and Guy sometime in the not too distant future. :-) Take care.
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