I have hidden the box containing the ampules of mistletoe extract in a dark corner shelf of the bathroom. Hidden isn't really the correct word. Let's just say I keep it tucked out of sight because I'm tidy and because I don't feel like broadcasting/exposing my breast cancer medications for all to see.
But wait. That makes no sense. I have created a blog about my breast cancer, for godsake. What do I care if someone sees my box of mistletoe ampules on my bathroom counter? I say stuff about my breast cancer medications all the time, for friends and strangers alike, here on the worldwide Internet. So why do I feel the need to "tuck away" the box? What does that box represent for me? What aspect of my life needs to be hidden?
Probably my confusion. My clutter. My chaos. My indecision as I stand at a crossroads, uncertain, vacillating, flipping and flopping back and forth from one side to the other as I wrestle with the bellowing question: "Do you or don't you want to radically simplify your life right now, in order to better care for your health, for your body, for your soul? If so, how do you plan to do that? How? HOW? HOW? How do you plan to do that, yet still earn a living, still pay not only for all your usual expenses, but also for all the out-of-pocket MEDICAL expenses that are not going to end any time soon?"
Let's see. I could add yoga to my list of stress reduction solutions, right? But yoga classes cost money, too. I'm already financially fried. The only reason I've made it this far without going deeply into credit card debt is because my father died last November and left me a few thousand dollars. All of that has now been spent on doctors and medications, and I'm only eight months into what is going to be a "lifelong" dance with more doctors, more medications, more attempts to create more balance in my life.
I don't know how to simplify, and it's making me feel depressed, stressed, and flat flat flat. Dull. Dispirited. Alone. Very very very alone – because although the initial dramatic brouhaha has dissipated (a brouhaha that got peoples attention and thus helped me to feel less alone), I still have to face everything that I've been facing, every day, indefinitely. Nothing is really finished. Nothing is really DONE. There's no end in sight. Only more vigilant research, more struggles with the side effects of current medications, and continuing efforts to change my life in huge ways that involve huge learning curves and huge determination and huge commitment and huge self-discipline. All of which translates into MORE HUGE CHANGES.
This all makes me want to stuff myself with caffeine, alcohol and sugar. As much and as fast as possible. Hmmmm. Yum. Cheesecake. Oh cheesecake. Oh cheesecake. Cheesecake and a martini. And coffee. In any order.