I’m not journaling. The pretty notebook I use to share my thoughts and feelings in lies nearby on the floor. I’m only feet away from getting it done, but my avoidant-urge is strong, my counselor’s admonishments about the importance of letting things out notwithstanding. I’d blame my depression, but using that as an excuse when it’s a chronic condition is as valid as blaming my … Continue reading Not journaling, definitely not crying.
I’ve finished the radiation therapy for my early-stage breast cancer and despite my anxiety-driven imaginings, things went okay. Physically. Getting your head around the mental stuff is more of a challenge. First, you have to acknowledge something has happened. I had five weeks of treatment, four of nausea and fatigue, and very little burning compared to some. My skin is resilient it seems, though I … Continue reading Radiation and eating disorders.
The worst part about the appointment I had with my oncologist, beyond the fact that I have an oncologist which still seems surreal, was not going over the pathology results. Nor was it setting up the schedule for radiation which will run Mondays to Fridays for twenty-six sessions. The worst part was getting weighed. Which tells you a lot, really, about eating disorders and how … Continue reading Cancer and an eating disorder.
I hate confrontations in an incredibly, big-time way. I’ll do almost anything to avoid them, usually to my detriment. I don’t stand up for myself: I don’t share my feelings if I’ve been hurt. I’m determined not to rock the boat. It’s not a policy that works well. For me, at any rate. It works fine for the people I don’t challenge. And because I … Continue reading Confrontation and motivation.
From Famine to Feast 