I haven’t written in a while because I haven’t been able to find my humor, which my earlier posts were full of. The sense of relief that I felt when the neuro-oncologist told me she believes this tumor is a grade-one, slow growing, non-malignant type has vanished. I am left with no answers and more questions. Best case scenario is just that. I have a brain tumor, and considering that it may not be an aggressive, malignant bastard, it is still an unwelcome parasite in the deepest part of my brain. So yeah, I’m still whirling in emotional turmoil. My life is not back to “normal” whatever the fuck that is anyways.
I’m not sure if anyone truly feels normal, average, or a sense of real belonging, though it seems to be a societal expectation or goal. I have struggled with clinical depression and alcoholism for most of my life, along with a chronic feeling of general discomfort in my skin and in the life all around me. I’ve worked really hard to overcome the obstacles both within and without in my life so far. My depression is managed with counseling and medication, and I have been sober since January 31, 1997 by fully immersing myself in a program of recovery with other recovering alcoholics. As a result of both, I have found a sense of ease and comfort that I hadn’t thought was possible.
I have a life of gratitude, joy, faith, and service today; yet for the past three weeks, I still would like to spend most of my days in bed with my dog. It takes a sometimes insurmountable measure of energy to interact with people. I have a dialog in my head telling me that nothing matters in this life, which makes it difficult to have conversations. It may sound like I am in self-pity. I guarantee you that is not the case. There were one or two times in the beginning where I would say, “why me?” but there is no point to that question. I am trying to make sense of my shifting perception of reality.
More will be revealed…
In faith and gratitude,
One thought on “When depression is really just a brain tumor.”
Nothing really does matter in this life, except what matters to you. In my lowest moments, when I thought being physically dead instead of just feeling dead seemed like a good option, I thought, “But who will take care of my cats?” Honestly, they’ve saved me when nothing else would. I love you and know how you feel, because I also feel that way more often than I’d like. The other thing that saves me is service, even if it’s just whipping out the sewing machine and making pet pillows for the cats in cages at pet stores. Finding a cause gives me a reason to live. Hope that helps. xoxoxox
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