Tag: strength

The storm ☔️

The window panes shook from an angry voice, hollow and gruff, he rumbled with noise. He clapped his hands with a fiery slap. He rubbed his brow, sweat going splititty splat.

He then spoke to me. Each word as a breeze, of fiery breath that could freeze. My heart beat faster and faster still. When you gaze at him, his eyes they chill.

Why oh why so mad, I asked of him? What have I done? Then CRASH went the tin.

Have I been bad just laying here? Why so loud? Please don’t come in.

He replied to me with a mournful growl, a flood of tears then came crashing on down. I realised then it wasn’t anger he shed, just sadness, and worry, while I was laying there in my bed.

His heart ached, as did mine of the fear we both felt. As the world crumbled beneath us, both our hearts did melt. We talked then for hours of worries of woes. Now every time I hear him I feel I’m not alone.

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Diaries of a cancer survivor…

I can sometimes get really offended when I go to see my specialist as he checks my neck after having had thyroid cancer a couple of times. Lately he always seems to state in his notes;

“Jacqueline’s neck presentation is unremarkable!”.

Unremarkable!!?, the way I present my neck is spectacular 😂 – #jokesonlycancerpatientswillprobablyget. #notblondejustbeingsilly #justjokes #seriouslygladthereisnothingtoremarkon #survivorship #followup #laughterinthemadness

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Untitled

I’ve gotten so good at pretending, I’ve managed to fool the world that i’m doing OK, have loads of friends and get invited out all the time by people really close to me. I model. I do charity work, creative projects. I have ample money and work. I party with loads of different friends. Yet the reality is me sitting here, tears streaming down my face wondering if anyone actually even truly cares about me at all. If it would be so bad if I just ended my life here and now to be done with the intense pain I feel.

So many people have taken their piece of me, and each time I have fallen in love it has been with someone that never even cared about me to begin with, yet they’ve always happily taken more than they should. It’s made me question myself so much now that I’m paralysed in my anxiety from it all and my level of self doubt. I can’t move forward I can’t move backwards. I smile through when anyone is around as I’m embarrassed to be anything other than a girl that seems to have it all together or at least mostly so. I need to be bright bubbly and polite. I don’t want everyone to hate the mess that my life has turned me into. I have shown my vulnerability over and over again only ever to be left standing in it all alone.

I have a percentage of my life where I have experienced wonderful things for sure, but that portion of my 34 years of life is only a maximum of 5% in total to the hell I have been in or felt the rest of my time here on earth. Each cancer, each person not understanding me, each death, each heartbreak, each anxiety has finally unravelled me so far I can’t even see the start of the thread anymore to pull myself back together. Now I’m just hiding and trying not to be found out but at the same time wanting desperately to be open and have someone understand.

I’m horrified at what I’m writing as I write this and knowing that I’m contemplating posting this just seems like total social suicide which for some reason seems so much worse than actual suicide. I guess because all I really want is to fit in. Looking down on myself I just hope that maybe someone understands this feeling and can appreciate the honesty or at least if people don’t get it, they can be more aware of what real depression and difficulties can do to someone. It’s not always out in the open and obvious. It’s often hidden behind smiles, beautiful social media posts and motivational quotes.

Not everyone is what they seem, i’ve witnessed that in others first hand. Everyone can have a good day just as everyone can have a bad day. Sometimes those bad days join into one long misery, while others have mostly the good days seamlessly strung together into a long and fruitful life.

Always be kind, always be open enough to never hold a grudge. Life is far too short and some will never get a chance to build enough positive memories to look back on a blessed life. We all struggle and some of us show it in different ways, some not at all.

#thisiswhatwritinglookslikewhenyouaredepressed

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All I remember…

All I remember now is how comforting your voice was. The way you would sing to me & read me stories always igniting my curiosity & intellect. You would hold me and make me feel like everything was OK even when it wasn’t.

I used to remember your smell but now I’m not quite sure if it’s just a made up thing in my head. I remember your manicured hands & strong work ethic, even from a kids perspective. You were my rock, my calm amongst the storm, always.

Not being able to say goodbye has always played on my mind these past 25 years, it’s something I thought would fade over time but instead it seems to almost strengthen as remembering the shape of your face seems to fade. It’s why I’m the way I am I guess. I always want to keep in touch with those I love because I’m so scared to ever go through the same trauma of never getting a last goodbye. Maybe that’s why I never have really fit in. You don’t understand loss until someone no longer exists in this world that was apart of your soul. They can move, they can leave you, but when they pass on there is a finality to this knowledge that shakes you to your core and you actually feel the absence of their presence on this earth.

When I was 9 I didn’t think I’d ever be able to even breathe again & just wanted so desperately to be by your side, even if it meant passing on myself. My life didn’t seem worth living without you. I remember picking up that phone to listen in on mum’s conversation only to hear the worst news of my life as you had lost your battle with those hideous treatments. Nobody deserves to fight so long only to lose their fight. I still don’t know why you thought it best to send me away by myself. I would have witnessed the worst most gruesome sights & felt all the pain in the world just to see you again & to be there to at least say goodbye if you had to go.

I was always cranky with myself that as a 9 year old I didn’t fight harder to see you as you laid to rest. I was too polite and I hate that about myself. Nobody would let me near you. I was supposedly being protected when all it did was crush me & make it even harder for me to let go. I felt abandoned & isolated in my misery as I cried myself to sleep every night and every quiet moment in between that I had to myself. Maybe this void I feel will change for the better eventually. I somehow still have hope, but it’s making me tired now. R.I.P dad, I’ll love you always xoxo

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