I've had a few things on my mind, so please excuse me if I ramble. To start off, I wanted to reiterate my reason for this blog - or at least one of the reasons. I want to help erase the negative stigma associated with mental illness. Any kind of mental illness, but because my experience is with depression and anxiety, that is where most of my subject matter lies. The biggest way I know to do this is to make the very personal, public.
If this is your first time reading my blog, I have dealt with depression for over 23 years. I almost typed "suffered from depression", but I am not a victim. I won't allow this to define me. It's part of me, but it's not me. I have days where I am sad, I have days where I am happy, I have days in which I can't get out of bed for lack of energy due to my depression and yes, I have days that I want to die. Most of the time, I say that I don't want to exist. I use these terms because the fact is, I don't want to die, I just don't want to be a part of the world outside my bedroom. But, yes, I also have days where I feel that I want to end my life. The days are not often and I never act on them, but they are there. Is this normal? NO!! But it is there and it is real and I will not be ashamed of it. Are you uncomfortable? Well get over it, because it's real. It's part of many people's lives and it's not going to get better if you ignore it because it makes you uncomfortable. (read my previous post for a little more in this realm)
Ok, so continuing in the vein of making the personal public, a friend recently asked me a question. Well let me rephrase that. She started to ask a question, stopped herself, and then would only ask it when I dragged it out of her. She prefaced the question with, "Remember, I opened my mouth before I thought about what I was asking." Her question? Do you think about what it might be like if Jon dies? Yes, yes I do. This is another area in which people are afraid to ask questions, or talk or spend any amount of time. My husband has cancer. The first two days after he was diagnosed I spent feeling as if he were already dead. Our lives changed forever. They will never be the same, regardless of how long Jon lives, or how long I live for that matter.
Because I try not to think about it, or don't have time, or really just can't for my own mental health, I don't think about it a lot. But I have thought about where we would live, how I would be a single mom, what his funeral would be like, among many other things. I hate every minute of thinking about losing the person I love most in this world, but there is part of me that has to. I have to be prepared for that if it happens. So chalk that up to one more thing that I am not unwilling to talk about.
At the same time that there are horrible things that come with a cancer diagnosis (chemo, medical bills, the aforementioned sad thoughts), cancer has actually done a lot for our family in a good way. Jon and I are closer and talk more than we ever have. We have both gotten reacquainted with God and we have started going to church again. We are so much more aware of every moment we get to spend together and how precious they all are. Despite the cliche sound of it, we are living fuller lives now. We're not perfect, and yes there's always more we can do, but as of now, cancer has gotten us out of the complacent lives we were living.
This past Saturday, we went to the funeral of a good friend's brother. One of the things Adam (our friend) said after his brother died was for everyone to grab those they love because life can change in a heartbeat. This is the same lesson we learned in April, and one that broke our hearts to see others we care about learn. The funeral was one of the most touching I have been to and I haven't been that affected by someone's death since Henry and Natalie died. I didn't know Nick, I had only met him once, but my heart broke for his family This is also a family that has gone out of their way to make us feel supported and loved since Jon's diagnosis. So I think a big part of my emotional reaction was not wanting people I care about to have the "our lives will never be the same" experience.
That night, after the funeral, Jon and I were lying in bed and he said "That could have been my funeral today." (Nick and Jon were the same age) I told him I thought the same thing. We then, very calmly, proceeded to talk about his wishes for his funeral. There weren't any tears, nothing sad, just a practical conversation. For those of you that saw the video I made, this is the strength I talked about that could only come from God.
I can only credit God with any strength I have had in dealing with Jon's diagnosis, as well as my depression. There is something he has planned for me, I just have yet to figure out what it is. Yet again, I am finding myself without direction in terms of my career. My teaching credentials have been rendered useless by forces beyond my control, and I am left to wonder, again, what I want to be when I grow up. I feel like I have a million puzzle pieces in front of me, but have no idea what the picture is supposed to look like. It's not even really what I want to be, but what I'm supposed to be. It's on the tip of my brain and hopefully I'll figure it out soon. But I know it has to be there, because I'm still here.
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