This week has been insane, and it’s only lunchtime on Wednesday. My projects are overwhelming me, a coworker got super pissed at me yesterday; a client basically told me I couldn’t do my scheduled visit tomorrow; and my manager’s emails all point to my lack of understanding. Oh well, today is a new day! Except it’s not. Boom. New projects, and new clients with old problems. 20 emails in 10 minutes, all from my manager- why are you doing this, why didn’t you do this, this is wrong, this should have been done, this should have been done differently.
I want to scream.
I want to hide.
But instead I write.
More than anything, I want to eat my feelings.
I always emotionally ate. But now. In the midst of a pandemic, uncertainty and the stress of my job- I want nothing more to eat. A small bowl of pasta. A scoop of ice cream. Mac and cheese. Pierogis and the kielbasa in my freezer.
But I can’t.
For whatever mystical reason, my blood sugars have been high since yesterday. Probably related to the stress of all these times. But this is my work, so ditching the projects really isn’t an option at the moment. But just a small bite of some comforting food may help my soul. But my blood sugar shot up a ton this morning after eating my detested egg. The broccoli I had for lunch didn’t help anything. Finally, it’s slowly at the upper most range it should be, and I can’t kill it now by stuffing my face.
I feel like I have nowhere to turn. My mentor isn’t online, my coworkers aren’t involved in this, and I can’t tell my mom without her worrying. Food is my haven, my solace, my refuge.
But it’s gone.
I have nothing. I have my faith, but you know sometimes you need something tangible to feel like everything is going to be OK.
Faith is a feeling, and it’s not there right now. I wish I could curl up under a blanket, but I have a meeting in 10 minutes, that will go for a few hours, so that’s not an option. Diabetes sucks. Like nothing else ever. Wasn’t life hard enough for me?
Didn’t it deal me the hand of cancer, not once, but twice? Throwing in complications, and chronic lingering effects, I feel like I should get a break in some tiny way. But no. I’m destined to have the generational curse of diabetes, like my mom so often said, it’s not a matter of if, it’s a matter of when. Grandpa got it at 40, I got it at 30, do you want to get it at 20?
Well here I am. 25 and with an insulin pump for the second time in my life. Today sucks.
I have a habit of spouting words into an email draft. Then revisiting it days or in this case weeks later Today is a better day. I feel good mentally, though the physical is still a struggle. But reading the paragraph above took me back to that day. When I felt hopeless and alone. They say time heals all wounds. That’s a load of b.s.
The wound is still there, but sometimes there are enough other things that you don’t actively think about the hurt. I wish I could say something magical happened after I wrote this and give you 10 steps to make you feel better too! But that didn’t happen. All I know is today I’m better than I was then.
I know every single person reading this has had an end-of-the-rope day. Whether it is directly related to cancer. Or the stupid long-term gifts of cancer like me. Or to the emotional trauma from cancer. Or even just to the isolation and worry and uncertainty of this global pandemic that seems to have no end in sight.
And I know you and I will have those end-of-the-rope days again and again for the rest of our lives. But maybe, just maybe- someday there will be enough good in our lives to lessen the ache of the wounds.
And maybe one day things won’t be as bad.
All of the posts written for Elephants and Tea are contributed by patients, survivors, caregivers and loved ones dealing with cancer. If you have a story or experience you would like to share with the cancer community we would love to hear from you! Please submit your idea at https://elephantsandtea.cdn-pi.com/contact/submissions/.