Just Elizabeth

I wrote a poem last night. It was the longest I think I have ever written. Although I am not sure how much *I* wrote. It seemed to have written itself.

It came from the place within me that is all confused. It is the place both resignation and optimism live. It is the place of hope and heartbreak.

It speaks deeply and completely to the struggle I face. I wanted it to be positive, hopeful, but in the midst was the pain. They had to co-exist in the body of the work.

They co-exist in the body of me.

Like a horse race, one occasionally leads, and sometimes the feelings go neck in neck. 

At the moment I am feeling down. It is happening too much lately. My struggles can be ignored and put off and ignorance can be bliss for a time, but time is closing in on reality.

It is coming for a visit, and I do not feel ready. I am feeling very much on shaky ground. I had hoped visiting my friend would help, but instead it has only become another thing to interact with - and even a diversion of sorts.

This is is not to say that it hasn't - on some level - been wonderful. Maybe the diversion has been necessary.

I haven't found myself taking many pictures, and my conversations haven't raised the topic of cancer. I realized that I am exhausted about talking about it. In some ways, I would rather be "normal" for awhile. The "crusade" is on hiatus.

It isn't what I imagined happening, but then again, I really wasn't sure what would happen. I just wanted a change of scenery, and I got it.

I also have my privacy in that people know nothing about me, my journey, my ordeal. I am able to pull in. For someone who never wanted to be so open, speaking up and out has been exhausting. 

But I have had to. My survival has seemed to depend upon it. 

I cannot tell you how much of a relief it has been to just be Elizabeth, not Elizabeth Informer or Elizabeth Educator or Elizabeth Inspiration or Courageous Elizabeth or Artistic Elizabeth or any other modifier Elizabeth.

Just Elizabeth.

Just pulled in, quiet, pensive, appreciative Elizabeth who has no desire to connect with strangers, just with herself.

I think part of the anxiety I have about my return is the feeling that I will again need to return to any or all of those versions of myself sooner than I want to.

When I was initially diagnosed and dealt with treatment, it was mostly in silence and privacy. I wasn't public about who I was here in this blog for a bit. 

I needed that. I could also afford to be that way. I had money in the bank. 

Now, not so much. The bit of an influx I had a few weeks ago will be gone shortly, and I will find myself without funds and likely feeling the effects of chemo.

On top of that, I will need to buy supplements to take. Really not sure where that money will come from. But they are needed to help minimize the undesirable chemo effects and maximize the desirable ones. 

I hadn't been thinking about that til now. I feel so heavy, down, depressed.

How in the world can I make it?

I need help. I so do not even want to mention it. But I have to. I have to until I either get a large enough chunk so I do not have to worry month-to-month and/or Disability finally shows up.

You likely have no idea how much I hate to ask, or how utterly physically and emotionally exhausting it is. If you can help, even with just $1 or a few, I cannot tell you how much I would appreciate it.

You also likely have no idea how much I would like to crawl into a cave and not come out for several months. Dealing with this was so much easier when I was "on the other side" and when I thought I was emerging from what I have been through. That lasted a whole couple of months.

Ugh.

Ugh.

Ugh.

I wish I could just run away.

Opportunities to help here (and other things) http://anewme515.blogspot.com/2014/03/about-mehow-you-can-help.html