I knew I'd be here, after everything. I wondered what would do it: The fact that our household is short on funds this month? The realization my cancer spread farther than I thought (though radiation is still the plan)? Nope. It was chicken breasts... and Mr. Davicob's unwillingness to talk to my mother for thirty seconds on the phone.
I screamed at him. Not even a minute after, I was crying and apologizing to her and him both. Mr. Davicob just looked at me as I'm sobbing and coolly responded: "I don't think I deserved that". No, he didn't.
My mask slipped. The one I wear to lie to everyone, even myself. I felt so blissfully numb, yesterday. My entire emotional episode lasted less than five minutes. I must do better.
I tell myself I'm handling this "cancer thing" and just can't cope with anything else going wrong. But, if something tiny causes me to hit the ceiling... am I coping? Am I truly okay?
No. I'm not.
Maybe crying over chicken dinners lets me deal with my diagnosis and the feelings stemming from it indirectly. When I think of my cancer, I feel a tiny spike of fear, then numbness as though anesthetized. I just hope I can keep people from the pain of me releasing my own pain.
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