So, to be a little more serious than usual, there is a down side to cancer. Gasp!!!! No, but there are after affects that come more in the mental form. There is a so called after-sadness. After -sadness is something that comes with the true facing of up-keep, maintenance, and trying to return from a life where you were completely dictated by doctors. I’m sure many would fall in a depression when facing after-sadness or at least categorize it as that, but from what I have come to find in myself and other survivors I know, is that more commonly it’s just random bouts of after- sadness.
These bursts come and they go, they are more common around scan dates or any scares, but they can really manifest themselves whenever they want to. Usually, they come by surprise. For example, Saturday night I was driving home at eleven p.m. from a black tie benefit listening to hard core rock music when all of sudden it hit me. And these are not wimpy tears that slowly well and fall, no these are full blown, grunting, sobbing, snotting, whale tears. They typically last for 30-45 minutes, and then one can’t seem to cry anymore. It passes, almost frightening quickly. But that is why they are bouts. They come when needed, and leave after they have served their purpose. And the purpose comes down to an inner strength. Yes, I refer to crying bouts as moments of strength.
Looking at the reasons, it seems to be a valid title. I hold in so much when it comes to cancer. I can pretend to be healthier than anybody else and be completely convincing, I can cover all my tracks and missteps, and I can portray the very mark of pride and fearlessness. This is where I find strength, in the ability to be first introduced as a bubbly, healthy, sarcastic, weird, nerdy, college girl. Then, maybe after getting to know me you will learn about that one aspect of my life, and be surprised for I hide better than Osama Bin laden in a Short people parade. But the sadness comes, and it comes at the weirdest times, but it renews my strength. Because just when you think something has broken you down and the Dam starts to spill over, you let out a little water and fix the hole. It may break, but a survivor is always prepared. Some may choose to medicate the pain away, medicate the feelings away, hide the pain, hide the feelings, drink the troubles away, complain, run, or talk. But I choose the little down moments which prepare me for a lot of up moments, because then I feel the balance is in my favor.
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Even though I can't relate to the after-sadness of cancer that you face, I can relate to the crying like a "two year old who just got his cherry lollipop taken away." Crying is an experience that men find awkward to share, but I feel it is necessary. Just like you, my last crying moment happened at a needed time and served a purpose. It was also while I was driving.
ReplyDeleteTwo Easters ago, I missed out on the yearly family reunion in North Carolina just so I could work through the busy week .
With my boss pressuring me to work, my family pressuring me to go with them, school grades and other distractions, I never got the chance to unwind. Driving home after work during that Easter week, I finally got that reality check I made the wrong decision. The thought of choosing work over family instantly brought tears to my eyes. I cried like crazy for a good twenty to thirty minutes. However, just like you, I felt that release of pressure afterwards. I called my mom and told her I loved her and the family and wished I had been with them. Needless to say, it was an emotional experience in which I learned a lot about myself.
I don't know if you watch Dane Cook but here's a funny clip from him about crying: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HU_OZZGy5WM
Your post made me think of something my mother used to always tell me. She would say that it is ok to cry, that it is what you need to move forward. If you bottle it all up you are only hurting yourself. You are right. These are moments of strength. They are moments of recognition, recognizing your might. You know you need them to get through. That’s what matters.
ReplyDeleteI have a form of after sadness myself, due to the loss of my best friend last year. I can smile at the outside world and appear happy, but I still can't acknowledge the fact that he's gone. We had so many plans for the future; we were going to start a band, and he was gonna be a professional chef on the side. Although, I always thought he should be a comedian. While tough, I'm thankful that I have my "moments of strength" for Brian, because I want him to know that he will never be forgotten.
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