I have been thinking about many ‘things’ lately… mostly about how far I have drifted away from the kind of writing that I used to do many years ago. It was a stream of thought that I would follow every day, but as life got more complicated I let myself be pushed into a different direction, and I all but stopped writing. After a month of writing Nanowrimo this November, for the 8th year in a row, I realized something about myself. It wasn’t that I am my own worst enemy when it comes to writing (I knew that already), but one of my biggest stumbling blocks to writing anything – whether it is a fictional story or a journal, is the fear that someone will read it. Funny isn’t it? And by funny I mean, sad. I do live in a kind of fear that someone that I love will read what I have written and be hurt by it or become angry, or sad. It’s happened before. I have written something that was completely honest and truthful from my perspective, and it has hurt someone. Not only- I was told that in writing it, I was purposefully hurting someone else that they were trying repair a relationship. Imagine. I was unable to point out the obvious at the time. Instead, I let that person shut me down completely and I stopped writing all together.
Tonight, I let that go. I must. If I don’t, I will never get back to a place of writing openly again. That is what I realized. The bigger kick in the pants is that I am for a second time heading to the hospital to the breast cancer clinic. In the midst of the emotions and fear (I am not afraid to share that I am afraid, and anyone facing a life threatening disease should be, it makes you fight harder) I realize that one of the few ways out of this I have is by writing about it. The thing about cancer, that I have learned over the past five years – from the death of my step-mother in 2010 of breast cancer, and my own journey that began in 2013.. You just never know when that little piece of crap is going to show up and start messing around.
So.. will I write about this cancer? Maybe sometimes. Most likely not. I have tried writing about it in the past. Seemingly endless trips to the hospital. Ultrasounds, mammograms, biopsies, MRI’s, more biopsies, surgeries. It’s all a lot of guessing, and doctors holding your hand and saying ‘I really have no idea what is going on but I think we caught it early’. That’s all I need to write about on that topic, to be perfectly honest. Blah blah needles and bullshit. I am not scared of it. Cancer, I mean. I am more afraid of not knowing. So yes. maybe I will write about the journey here, but it will not be the only thing I write about. I feel that I need to write about life more. I need to write more about what I think, what I see, what I feel. I never talk about that, let alone write about it. Seems like it might be time to start. It might be the only chance that I have. At least for the time being.