Owning Up To It

I’ve been looking at pictures of garbage on Google Image. I was going to blog a funny story about the garbage-collection system in Taipei despite the fact that all I wanted to do was to sit in a corner and cry my eyes out. I wouldn’t allow myself to do so because what I should be doing is to count my blessings rather than to feel sorry for myself. Moreover, crying is a sign of weakness, and this is not a time to be weak.

It seems that everyone thinks it is time to celebrate. I understand why it may seem like the most logical thing to do. After all, I finished one round of chemo therapy and, if everything goes well, I’ll never have to do it again. I SHOULD also feel good about this and start enjoying life. However, I feel like the person who accidentally walked into the wrong house where a party was already taking place. Frankly, I have no idea what there is to celebrate.

How ungrateful I am?! There are people who have gone through far worse than I have, yet here I am, feeling sorry for myself. How vein I am?! There are people who have lost far more than I have, yet here I am, making fuzzes about my weight-gain and change of appearance. I feel guilty for how stupid I’ve been. I feel apologetic to those who expect more of me.

I’m sorry that I’ve disappointed you.

The thing is, I’m the only one who knows what I’ve been through. I’m also the only one who knows how important these losses are to me. I’m fatigue and I feel faint from time to time. I’ve never been this heavy and out of shape in my life. My heartbeat hits as loudly as war drums when I walk. I gag when I hear or say the word “chemo”. I can’t talk about my treatments without getting misty-eyed. I fear going back into another course of chemo therapy if there’s any sign of cancer within the next 180 days. In sum, I still feel like a cancer patient, not a cancer survivor, so what the hell are we celebrating?!

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Here comes smarty-pants Kate:

I know I’m smarter than this. I believe it’s mind over matter. I won’t allow myself to indulge in self-pity; instead, I’ll fill my days with things to occupy my time. You know, like reading, drawing, planning for my classes next semester, brain-storming the professional-development programs for the teachers, going for a walk with a friend, planning a dinner party, putting together a “baby-survival kit” for a dad-to-be, cleaning the house, looking up jobs in North America, etc. Nothing! Nothing made me feel better. At the end of the day, I sat fighting off the urge to sit in a corner and cry my eyes out.

As a believer of the power of knowledge, I searched and learnt about depression upon/after the completion of chemotherapy (see for example http://cancerguide.org/rgrimm_story.html). It didn’t work. All it did……all I did was that I sympathized and cried while reading the stories. It didn’t do me any good.

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My life is an irony.

I knew that I’d be an awesome mom when I was 13 year old, yet I’m a single 34-year-old with one ovary. I spent years developing into a self-sufficient and independent woman, yet certain people seem to be under the impression that they could put me aside at their convenience (‘cause you know, Kate’s tough). I mastered a second language with perseverance and hard work, yet I can’t tell my students the truth because they’d automatically think my English could never be as good as a native speaker’s. My own people think of me as a foreigner; and foreigners think of me as Taiwanese. All I want to say, to these people, is this: unless you have mastered a second language like I did, shut the f*%$ up!

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I’m gonna own up to it.

Yes, I’m experiencing depression after chemotherapy.

Yes, I’m having mood swings and I want to punch everyone I see (it’s the steroids, I swear).

Yes, I feel as if no one understands, and could ever understand, how I feel.

Yes, from time to time, I’d like to admit that I’m not as tough as you think I am.

And finally,

Yes, I’d like someone to hold me and tell me that I don't have to try to be tough anymore.

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I’m gonna go work on the piece about the garbage-collection system in Taipei now. I’m sure you’ll love it.