I haven’t been writing here because I don’t want to sound like a broken record but I can’t really be anything else right now. I don’t want this blog to be a bunch of bitching, and I don’t even really want it to be solely about my stupid genetics, but I can’t do much else at this point.
I’m in that really awkward stage where everyone thinks I should be fine, but I’m not. It’s been a month and a half so no one really expects or wants to hear me crying and freaking out. It’s been long enough that I “should” be able to listen to my friends’ problems and be the same old person I’ve always been… but I’m not, and I can’t.
Thinking about this has become second nature. Never really being 100% happy has become second nature. And, quite frankly, it sucks. But do I really need to chronicle my misery on the internet? This isn’t really helpful to anyone, and as much as I believe in being authentic and feeling your feelings, it probably isn’t beneficial for anyone to read about how much I hate life right now.
I’ve mastered the art of appearing functional most of the time. I go to work, where most of my coworkers have no idea what’s going on in this aspect of my life. No one has noticed I’m at all different, so I guess I’m doing something right. I talk to my friends and give advice and make plans.
But a lot of friendships have fallen by the wayside because I just can’t pretend to be normal all the time. Nine hours a day at work is almost too much – most days I come home drained of energy and two seconds from crying. I don’t have it in me to go to dinner or happy hour or whatever and act like everything’s normal. I still struggle when a friend asks for advice or complains about a problem, because god I wish I still worried about normal problems like boys and jobs. I still really struggle with other people’s happy occasions. The way I see it right now, no happy occasion in my life is ever going to be of the magnitude of this horrible awful no-good thing. My wedding day, my first property purchase, a great promotion – those things will happen to me, but I just don’t feel like they’re going to matter as much as they would’ve otherwise.
But no one wants to read about that. Everyone says I’m allowed to have bad days, and I 100% believe in feeling what I feel and getting through it. But none of my “normal” friends understand, and it seems like a lot of people in the BRCA world sees this as something to be thankful for – a chance to prevent cancer and save your life. But I’m still stuck in the part where it just sucks, and I wish it wasn’t my life, and sometimes I wish I hadn’t even been tested, and I don’t know how to move forward into a life I really don’t want.
I ordered some moleskines the other day. I haven’t kept a paper journal regularly in years, but I think it’s time to start. I have to get these thoughts out, and I think the only place to put them is somewhere no one else can see.