Depression

In December, just two months after diagnosis, I attended a retreat for cancer survivors where I met women who reported feeling depressed after their treatment was over. I wondered at that. Believed it was possible. Decided it wouldn't happen to me.

But it has.

Now that I am home from the autologous transplant, I'm feeling really down. I can't shake the feeling that I am no longer who I was. That beautiful girl with so much life ahead of her. No, I am the sick, hairless, sad, and doomed one. My life is not my own. It belongs to the doctors, the treatments, the pills.

Such knowledge is unspeakably difficult for one soul to handle. I am overwhelmed, consumed and defeated by it.

I cry suddenly, whether I am driving, watching television, or speaking with my ex-husband.

Yet, I know, from being in this place before, that I can find happiness and peace once again. I remember, after giving birth to my son, the depression I endured. Yet, I endured it for only about seven days. Then I had my beautiful son to boost me on. A helpless life form who needed me.

Now, once again, I have my son. Yet, at 13, he is quite able to take care of himself (for the most part.) I could choose, once again, to endure the pain for him, but I think a better choice lies deep down in my spirit.

It is the choice to move on from sadness for myself.

Okay. That sounds nice. But it's not working. Not now. I need answers that not only sound good, but actually work for me. The way I'm feeling now.

So, then, I come to the final conclusion. I am going through this sadness. It may last more than seven days. It may end tomorrow. Whatever the case, I can endure it, whether for myself or for someone else.

I will not die from sadness. I'm just going to feel bad for a while.

And I know, now matter how long I endure it, the sadness can't remove me from the love of God, my husband, my family, my friends. It can't steal anything from me that's of any worth.

It may take a miracle, but this, too, shall pass.