That's right I had a nervous breakdown. I will admit to that. I snapped. Cracked under pressure. Let out a cry for help. Let others see just how weak I really am. Gave in to reality that I can no longer keep up the pace I have been going.
It all came to head last Tuesday. But it has been building and building for the past few months. No, wait, almost eight months. Since brain cancer stepped into our lives and took over, uninvited. No manual came with this brain cancer explaining how to "deal with it". I didn't go to school to learn how to be a caregiver to her "once" Superman husband. I have not welcomed this monster one bit. What a cruel visitor it has been, this cancer. Not only has it caused my husband to become sick from chemo, lose function and usage of his right extremities, take away so much of his independence, keep him from a job he loves, hang over us like a black cloud, but it has also caused a restless anger, deep emotional scars and a pure resentment towards life for me. Yes me. Miss DVM's Wife. The "inspiration", "hero" to so many, "worthy" to others. I have been angry. Scared as hell. Pissed off. Resentful and downright tired of it all. I hate what this cancer has done to not only my husband but what it has done to our marriage and to me. Most days I do not like myself very much. Most mornings I wake up and say to myself, "I hate my life" because I know just how the day will go and it exhausts me mentally and physically. An attitude I never once had. An attitude I wish would disappear.
But I have kept it inside. I keep it bottled up. I have shrugged off the "cries for help". I have told myself to "get over it", "grow a backbone". This is how your life's plan is. Be strong for all of those around you. Hold on to the Wonder Woman attitude. Keep going the pace you are. Keep being the caregiver, mom, friend, nurse, cab driver, manager, business owner, farm girl, caretaker to numerous animals, maid, cook, mechanic and somewhere in there "the wife". Except my usual motto of "I am woman, hear me roar" changed to " I am human, hear me cry".
But where do "I" fit in? Where does my life, my time, fit in all of this? Who am I? Who have I become? Have I become this robotic person who does as she is told, asked and most certainly appreciated? Yes I have. I know I am appreciated by my husband and my children. But truthfully, who have I become through out this whole process? Do I even like this person whom lives in my body?
My dreams are on hold. My future is uncertain. My calendar is full of physical and occupational therapy appointments, doctor appointments, chemotherapy schedules, next MRI's, our children's functions, keeping track of our veterinary clinic and all of the other things that make our little world go around each and every gosh darn day. It is crazy. My life is crazy. Go ahead and say I am the biggest whiner there is and to just shut up and get over it. Tell me I am being selfish. I have told myself to shut up and deal with it. I have called myself selfish. But I have told myself this for far too long. Something had to give. Something had to change.
So I snapped last Tuesday.
I seriously cracked under pressure. I let go of all my responsibilities as a mother, wife, caregiver, friend, daughter, "inspiration". I let it all go. I was driving by myself crying like a baby. I had to pull over on the side of the road and with both of my feet on the break pedal, I laid my head on my truck's steering wheel and cried. I sobbed. I shook all over. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move. I was frozen and yet I managed to put my truck back on the road and start driving again. Yet I didn't go home. A weird feeling took over me. Another being crept in and took over my eyesight, because clearly I could not see through the tears. Someone else took over the steering wheel and set the cruise control.
And I drove into the sunset. But someone else drove. Someone, or something kept the steering aimed for the west. The person that has been trying to keep it all together, keep things in order, remain strong had all but disappeared. She could not take it anymore. She was running away. I ran away Tuesday. I left my family without telling them where I was, what I was doing or where I was heading for. I myself, had no answers to what I was doing. That person turned her cell phone off and just said "F - it."
I don't expect anyone to understand what happened to me. I don't expect anyone who reads this or knows me to completely grasp my situation and fully understand. But if you have ever been a caregiver to a person you truly love, who has been dealt with a mean hand of cards filled with brain cancer, you would get it. You would know what it is like to walk in my shoes.
I don't expect my husband, Tim to understand why I drove off for hours not knowing where I was, worried sick about me. I don't blame him one bit for all of this. This is not his fault. Our life with cancer has done this. It has changed me and it has changed him. We are not the same people we once were. To tell you I struggle with these thoughts each and every day is an understatement. I am not losing hope for our future, for a cure. I am not "giving up". I am not quitting. I am tired. I am broken, exhausted and have finally realized I am human and I cannot keep up this front of "I can do all of this, take care of everything and it will all be okay".
No one wants to admit to failing. No one wants to give up control and lose it. Many just want to do everything themselves. But I have come to realize that my life right now is far too much for little me to handle by doing it all "myself". Because clearly my cracking under pressure incident last week proved to me, and only me, that in order to take care of my husband and my children, I need to take care of me; emotionally and physically. This is not being selfish. This is a fact. A loud and clear message. I cannot go this route much longer and I won't.
I went away for a few days after this, to my parent's "cabin in the woods", watched 5 movies, took naps, curled up with my Ruby dog, "let it out" to a close friend, took a bubble bath and sat by the fire. Tim's parents stayed with him and our kids and my parents helped shuttle the kids to their activities. I let others play my roles. I just took care of me. It was the rest and relaxation I truly craved. It was the "break" I longed for. A break from my daily chaotic life, the locked in high speed I was going, the whirlwind tour I was lost on. A break from cancer. A break from my husband. A breather from reality. A breather from actuality.
I fell down hard last week. I fell to my knees. I broke down. While I am back on my two feet again, I am still weak, unstable, uncertain. But I have gathered some ammunition in the form of "help" to get me through. To get my whole family through this. They need me; I most certainly need them.
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