Friday, November 26, 2010

the significance of threes

They say luck, whether good or bad, happens in three's--

I've had three heartbreaking things happen in a short span of a week- all sandwiched between one magical trip to the Big(ish) Apple.

These three things have uprooted me emotionally, monetarily, permanently.

All three have been the decision of other people, directly impacting my life.

No wonder I feel helpless.

My life has been rather desperately reaching for something to cling to, for some small root to grab and take hold and secure me to more stable ground. The ground I cling to is far more fragile than myself- often just a future hope, a sliver of opportunity, a speck of a man. Perhaps all only ideals. Easily crumbled.

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[In NY; a crooked bowtie means good times]

So, this Thanksgiving, which I almost missed--

I am thankful for the friends and family that remain steadfast- offering a hand when my ground is giving way, pulling me up from the rubble, time and time again. I'm thankful for the people who stay with me, through all of my misgivings and flaws, because of love. I fucking love you too, honestly, absolutely.

ok. No more bad luck, on the count of three...

















Tuesday, November 23, 2010

it gets worse.

Just got a letter in the mail--

I've also been denied disability/ssi assistance.


there's nothing left to hope for.

no money left.

I don't know what else to do.

besides sleep.

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

A kick in the teeth, so to speak.

I am on my way to an informational interview in New York right now.

I spent all my NY savings on rent after my 2nd diagnosis.

I applied for a SAMFund grant in September, naively thinking that they could help me with my goal of moving to NY.

I just got an email today saying that I have been rejected, because at the time I was writing my application essay, I hadn't finished treatment (this was during the RAI). So, even though I'm finished, I am disqualified.

I'm on the train and I can't contain my tears.

I really was hoping.

EDIT: this piece of wisdom has been bestowed upon me by the lovely Bekah:

FUCK Samfund. I've applied for the same grants, and they claim to reject me because I'll 'never be finished with treatment.' Since mine is chronic, it will come and go..

We create our own world with our minds -- you know this. Yes, you are allowed to be down and out, you are allowed to feel like the world will cave in. Life hits us fucking hard, but we MUST get back up.

Cry, throw things, get pissed. And then, shake it off. The world is still yours if you want it.

(I needed that.) And for the record-- New York was awesome; the people friendly, the food delicious, and the subways didn't smell (much) like pee. I'll get there despite everything.

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Lesson #1: There is no seperation between life and death.

It seems like everything was going so well before cancer #2. Graduation, a finished portfolio, Hawaii trip, preparations for the move to NY. Fuck yeah, I made it through cancer and now I will take on the world and make the life I've always wanted.

Now? Now I'm broke, scarred, and still here. I still have cancer. I'm stuck. I've lost momentum. I feel like a puny inert lump in space-time just waiting to die. Waiting out the days. Wondering if I'll be able to pay the bills. But mostly just waiting.

I really don't know how to continue life knowing I have cancer, just lurking around inside of me, waiting for the next chance to pop up and reclaim my body.

I have no answers right now.

I do, however, have super-kawaii cancer gifs


Monday, November 8, 2010

I'm glad this exists:

I've just come across cancer survivor Andrea Coller's 2008 article for Glamour magazine. I found myself empathizing with her in many ways- especially her zero bullshit tolerance. She died in April of this year at age 29.

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

My PTSD has been flaring up lately. I haven't left my room in days. It's like a wet blanket wrapping around you, blocking you from reality, suffocating you. Fear, anger, guilt. hopelessness. Sometimes I actually taste the chemo under my tongue, or feel sharp pains by my port, as if a needle is sticking me.

All of this free time is exacerbating things, I think. I have way too much time to THINK, but not enough energy to DO.

I keep waiting for some kind of salvation-- an SSI claim approval, or the samfund grant, or a job interview. Something to signal that my life has hope, a direction, and isn't totally going to shit because of cancer.

I keep waiting.