Second son is well again and back at school trying out for the rugby team. I'm not feeling so great however. Maybe it's because I've had very little exercise while being sick and taking care of the boys while they've been sick.
I just feel like life is folding in on me somehow. It's not as if anything different has happened. It's more as if my life is being presented in front of me with no rose coloured glasses on.
I am nowhere yet which makes me wonder, will I ever be? This recovery process has been dragged beyond recognition as a period of time. This may be it.
I realize many cancer patients go through all these feelings afterward whether they are still fighting for their life or not. It just seems so counterproductive. I just lay in bed with the covers over me trying to disappear while the world goes on without me. It feels safe there under the coziness of the blankets. I feel lucky to have this bed because everything else is in shambles.
Rather than dreaming of buying a house and physically building what others my age have accomplished, I think about how lovely it would be to burn it all. Take all my crap that pins me down here and watch it burn in one huge pile. Then I could just leave and it wouldn't even matter where I've gone.