The End of the World

Some bastard cut me off, halfway through the roundabout on the way to Nelle's school. The dining table lays unseen and unused below piles of drawings and mailings and scribbles and notes. My husband puts the wine glasses where they aren't supposed to be. My car is littered with dirty tissues and parking receipts. My suitcase lays unpacked beside my bed, which I spilled tea all over last night. The nauseating smell of air freshener sweeps across the coffeeshop. My child loses her school jumper within hours of purchase. The air outside weighs heavy. I'm angry and frustrated and dejected and scattered and I want to reset, rewind, do over. 

These things pile up on me like the end of the world.

perspective?

And 5 years ago yesterday I got into a scalding bath and closed my eyes and got cancer. I already had it, of course, but it was in that warm and peaceful moment that the doctor called, changing my world forever. I thought the world was ending, I knew it was ending, but it didn't end. I survived. Survived. 

Survived. 

I survived the end of the world. So fuck you, bad drivers and bitter coffee and gray skies. Fuck you, cancer. One breath at a time, I can make this life what I want it to be. I'm not stuck, I'm not overwhelmed, I'm me. I'm alive.

And I'm having a massage. This day will get right.

Love, Amanda xx

PS. Thank you for sharing this cancerversary with me, friends. This month is always an uneasy time of year for me - every fear and sadness seems amplified. But your support these last few years has really made my heart sing - what a journey we're sharing together. You're awesome xx