I'm back to my non sleeping cycle.
And I've been kind of emotional lately.
Maybe it's the hormones.
Or the lack of hormones.
Or the fact that Kim and Khloe have been lashing out at Kourtney.
Whatever it may be; kinda weepy.
And here's the thing...
You may be driving down the highway and Rachel Platten's "Fight Song" comes on the radio.
And that was the song you played your first day of chemo.
And maybe you kind of lost it in the car while traveling to Target.
Then you're stuck in the Target parking lot with a ruddy complexion and puffy eyes and you know you can't go in looking for your Oil of Olay until your eyes dry up but you're having a hard time collecting yourself.
That's the joy of cancer.
It hits you out of nowhere even though you are done with treatment and your hair, (according to your 6 year old niece) (who has no idea why you have short hair) "is getting longer" and you can finally look in the mirror without feeling totally nauseous but you cry in the car on the way to Target.
It doesn't really ever end.
You turn the pages but this is a chapter you just cannot forget.
And maybe you want to forget really really bad or maybe you don't want to forget because it keeps you real but either way- it's impossible to forget.
So we store it in the back of our closet in some box that we hide under loads of winter sweaters or something but it rears it's ugly ass when Rachel Platten belts out "My power's turned on starting right now I'll be strong"
I'll never be the same.
And that's not me just speaking nonsense it's the truth.
I'll never get my real breast back or get rid of the scars or the small teeny tiny blue tatoos I have from radiation or not cry everytime I see the scarves that I kept from chemo days.
It's okay that I wont be the same.
I've grown and I've changed and it's all part of my story.
I just wish I would have been okay before I hit Target.
I really didn't want to cry in aisle 4.
And I've been kind of emotional lately.
Maybe it's the hormones.
Or the lack of hormones.
Or the fact that Kim and Khloe have been lashing out at Kourtney.
Whatever it may be; kinda weepy.
And here's the thing...
You may be driving down the highway and Rachel Platten's "Fight Song" comes on the radio.
And that was the song you played your first day of chemo.
And maybe you kind of lost it in the car while traveling to Target.
Then you're stuck in the Target parking lot with a ruddy complexion and puffy eyes and you know you can't go in looking for your Oil of Olay until your eyes dry up but you're having a hard time collecting yourself.
That's the joy of cancer.
It hits you out of nowhere even though you are done with treatment and your hair, (according to your 6 year old niece) (who has no idea why you have short hair) "is getting longer" and you can finally look in the mirror without feeling totally nauseous but you cry in the car on the way to Target.
It doesn't really ever end.
You turn the pages but this is a chapter you just cannot forget.
And maybe you want to forget really really bad or maybe you don't want to forget because it keeps you real but either way- it's impossible to forget.
So we store it in the back of our closet in some box that we hide under loads of winter sweaters or something but it rears it's ugly ass when Rachel Platten belts out "My power's turned on starting right now I'll be strong"
I'll never be the same.
And that's not me just speaking nonsense it's the truth.
I'll never get my real breast back or get rid of the scars or the small teeny tiny blue tatoos I have from radiation or not cry everytime I see the scarves that I kept from chemo days.
It's okay that I wont be the same.
I've grown and I've changed and it's all part of my story.
I just wish I would have been okay before I hit Target.
I really didn't want to cry in aisle 4.
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