Traversing my inner space wearing the lens of metastatic disease, my inner eye wanders into dark places at times. The glasses have me reading invisibilities into ideas that have no real importance. Ideas such as what my life’s purpose what could I possibly serve the world when at the moment I was diagnosed with #metastatic breast cancer three years ago, my needs far outweigh my ability to give. Many days my questions return only an inner sigh of response. My contributions and defining myself and my roles becomes so foggy, so unclear to me.
Tag: stage four breast cancer
Yearning for my partner’s support and the kind of tender and caring love many of which many metastatic sisters write and blog about, I now look over at him, home in bed, and find one whose dark, inky emotions remain locked away inside his heart, like the stars behind clouds in a dark night sky. He lays there disengaged, thinking to himself about things that cause long bouts of sighing, and the simmering anger of so many men who find themselves bitten by such disorders.
We all fall down. The ground grows smaller, As I pass the Earth, Becoming her daughter. Funny to stand today, Eclipsing the sun. My books marked still, On page one.