My Own Valentine

I’ve always been a big romantic. I remember how disappointed I felt when I realized that love isn’t like the movies. I wanted so much to believe in fairytales and happy endings. I never thought I’d have to write my own…alone.

I didn’t date in high school in Macon, GA. I dated a little bit in college in Albany, NY. I went nuts dating in Los Angeles, CA because I felt like a hottie. Then when I moved back to Atlanta, GA, my dating life somewhat fizzled.

For me, it IS harder dating in the south than it was up north or on the west coast. Aside from the whole race issue, I feel dating is harder in this post-cancer body.

I was interviewed for an article about cancer and dating for Datingroo in the UK. Click here for article   In the article, I talk about the difficulties of not knowing what to say on dates anymore. I don’t know what to put on my dating profile anymore.

Now that my lower back issue should hopefully be resolved or at least feel less pain in the coming weeks after my spinal epidural injection and additional PT, walking and standing won’t be as much of an issue anymore.

I remember going on a date a year post-cancer and the guy commented that I seem to be walking stiffly. How could I tell him my body feels like a 500-year-old, and that it was taking everything I had to not show pain while we walked into the restaurant or getting up from the chair?

I’m a well-known talker, so the fact I’m often at a loss for words on top of not being able to find words (thanks chemo brain), conversation is hard and awkward when talking with a man on the phone or in person. I don’t know how to talk about trivial things anymore. My thought process (when functioning) is heavy. I’m not as light or carefree as I used to be.

I have a hard time taking a compliment from a man because I immediately want to correct him and let him know I didn’t always look like this. I looked better. I looked thinner. I still feel like an imposter in this body.

Weight gain

Infertility

Zero sex drive

Scars like a railroad track

Radiation scars on left side of neck

Chronic pain

Chronic fatigue

Cognitive Issues (chemo brain)

Hair (though can wear straight now) is so much thinner

In this body, I don’t attract the type of men I’m attracted to. Instead, I get thugs or creepy old white guys contacting me. That’s why I deleted my dating profile two years ago. I’ve never thought of myself ugly or strikingly beautiful.  I know I have a pretty face with a sparkling personality. The fact these types of guys are what I attract in this body, well, it was hurting my self-esteem.

The saying, “The right guy won’t care what you look like” is false. Men are visual. Heck, I’m visual too!

That’s why I’ll spend another year as my own valentine. Until I can learn to at least like this body a little more, I can’t put myself out there, even if just for fun. The rejection that comes with dating is hard. My current mindset is too fragile to handle it.

I’ll never love this post-cancer body, but I can learn to at least like it. Plus, I refuse to settle.

Happy Valentine’s Day to all the single people both in cancerland and out.

Until next time,

Warrior Megsie

Chronically grieving, single and in pain

Grieving again today. I thought I had picked myself back up, so this uncontrollable crying spell this afternoon came as somewhat of a shock.

Though I have left the Catholic church, I have never lost my faith. So, I decided to go to a non-denominational church this afternoon. I really loved the music and the message. During the service, my left lower back started burning. I tried to block it out and focus.

After the service, I decided to have a look around. I was amazed by the number of volunteers, members and beautiful facility. Then my heart dropped.

Seeing the number of families and all the kids in their fantastic kid’s area was a slap to the face. I will never experience a family the way I had always dreamed. What continues to crush me is it wasn’t MY choice to be medically induced into menopause at 40. It’s not a choice when your medical team tells you due to carrying the ovarian genetic marker, family history, intolerant of medications, and my own personal issues with my cervix and ovaries pre-cancer, this is the only way forward.

My mother found these pics today. I was 29 in the pink. So weird to see my natural black hair. I usually wore my hair up in buns, French braids and twists. When I was 29, I still believed in love and that I would have at least one child. I continue to get offended when women especially mention adoption or fostering to me. I know they mean well, but they aren’t hearing me. If I were married or seriously involved with someone, the conversation would be different.

I’m single. At this point, chronically single. I can barely take care of myself and my cat Nathan post-cancer. I have zero energy to even try dating. I look so physically different now. How come some other warriors got their bodies and hair back? I literally look like an entirely different person.

A friend mentioned that I looked “untried” in my younger days. I have been through many, many trials without it physically altering my inside and outside appearance. I’m an onion with tons of layers. You can bet there are some struggles I’ve never openly revealed on social media.

My weight is slowly starting to go down again. That 1 1/2 months on the prednisone really did a number on me. I can tell my appetite is finally back under control. I’m not having intense cravings. I want to actually plan and cook my meals. My thyroid is normal. I’m not even pre-diabetic. Heck, I’m not even anemic right now.

The chronic pain got out of control, and I couldn’t workout without crying in pain. This is another big struggle. I’m realizing that chronic pain is unpredictable. I can feel semi-decent one day and in excruciating pain the next. I didn’t know this would be life with fibromyalgia and neuropathy. This isn’t going away.

I can’t wait for my palliative care appointment at Emory next month. I am very aware I need help. I don’t have coping skills to manage this kind of grief and pain.

Until next time,

Warrior Megsie

Reality Bites

I’ve thought a lot about “my story,” and who will tell it. It’s a tough pill to swallow knowing my family history literally ends with me.

Reality Bites.

It’s overwhelming to think about. Friends tell me I can still be a mother by either adopting or marrying someone with children. There are many issues with these two scenarios, so I’ve highlighted the top three:

  • I’m single and not about to adopt a child when I can barely provide for myself and mounting health needs/issues.
  • The thought of dating is off the table for at least another year or so due to chronic pain, fatigue, and zero sex drive.
  • I don’t even know if I will still be alive in another year or what other illnesses will befall me as long-term side effects keep popping up.

The point is I will NEVER have a human legacy who inherits my long lashes, quirky personality or bubbly laugh.

Reality Bites.

I was looking at old family pictures this morning. Though my mother and I physically do not look-alike, I found two pictures of when we were little, and we have identical facial expressions and seated position. It makes me laugh, yet weep.

Reality Bites.

Life can be very hard; for some more than others.  I’ve often questioned why I have to carry so much weight on my heart and soul. I don’t want to be Hercules or Wonder Woman.

I don’t know where my resilience stems from. There have been more dark moments that I care to fully acknowledge in my life thus far, and also many beautiful, delightful and charming moments.

Reality Bites.

This is not about being clinically depressed. This is about the ups and downs of grief. This is about MY reality. I’m still grieving over what could have been, what my reality is and how difficult thinking of the future and making plans can be at times.

Reality Bites.

There are moments when I think, “What’s the point?” of telling my story. Who really cares?

  • Chronically single
  • Medically barren
  • Breast cancer survivor
  • Only child

A therapist told me to keep posting pictures on social media from my scrapbooks and photo albums that I have so lovingly put together over the years that fully capture the really magical, humorous and exciting moments since childhood.  I was doing just that to make my digital legacy mean something but stopped as life post-cancer became too much again.

Reality Bites.

The only constant in my life is the essence of me remains the same. It’s solid. It’s my core.

  • Cancer couldn’t kill it.
  • Depression can’t kill it.
  • Grief can’t kill it.
  • Pain and fatigue can’t kill it.

There always seems to be a storm brewing, edging its way to the forefront of my mind.  I could really use a season of calmness in my body, heart, and mind.

Reality truly does bite.

Until next time,

Warrior Megsie