This sucks. I read to my husband what I write and I can hear myself….only writing about Melanoma. Well, I suppose that makes sense seeing that the title of my silly blog is ‘Holy Moly, Melanomy’. I also suppose it makes sense that I've only had surgery a short 3 ½ months ago. Wow. When I think of it that way, it’s only been a very short 3 ½ ago. It's very, very fresh. I’m a newborn in this weird fog.
I don’t like this fog. I hate it. I like being able to see. To see my life. To see my husband‘s happy face. To see me, being happy with everything.
This is lame. Complete lame-sauce.
How do I get out of this fog? A super thick, fear inducing fog? I don’t know… I can’t see any exit signs, and that scares me. I don’t want to be scared. I don’t like being scared.
I remember at times when I was at home sick from school and my mom had to work - I’d play this made-up game that I called “ten things”. This may sound strange to some of you. When I was home alone and felt scared or I heard a noise that made me feel like someone was breaking in, I’d look around in whatever room I was in and look for 10 things that I could possibly fatally wound someone with. Yes, I just wrote “fatally wound“.
The way that I could 'pass a level' in my ten things game would be if I could find those 10 fatal objects, then I could move on to the next room. This was the way that I would get my mind off that evil mailman - which would scare me by making noise outside my house and would turn my dog into a bloodthirsty crazed wolf. That room could be the kitchen - duh, super easy. The bathroom was especially hard; what to do with a loofa, shower gel and a shower curtain? Believe me, I’ve figured it out. I have several potential weapons in every room. With this game, I found courage.
Why don’t I have a weapon to battle my thoughts? I found courage by looking around my house - thinking of 409, candle holders, toilet plungers and records as weapons. Why don't I have that same courage by looking inside myself? Where is that same warrior in me? She’s in there, along with all that raw courage, why can’t I find her again?