Darian's Not So Secret Diary

This week has been tough, not physically, but in all the junk in my brain. The last couple of weeks really. So much chatter going on in that brain, so much darkness, it's weighing me down. Pushing me into that dark, murky, danger zone that is hard to crawl out of. Disclaimer, there's going to be some nasty language today, because I'm just going to keep it real with you. Flaws n' all. So as I'm trying to dig myself out of this just massive pile of crap in my head, yesterday I had the appointment with my surgeon to set up the date and talk about my double mastectomy. You know, the part I'm dreading the most. There wasn't any surprises in the conversation, nothing I didn't really already know. But by the end of it I wasn't just depressed, I was full blown pissed off. Just done with all of this, every bit of it. Since then I've been filled with So. Much. Anger. Today, I'm sitting there in chemo, probably looking like a fuming bitch with rag...

As I stand here, looking at an empty room, the moment is very real. There's no more talking about "one day" or "soon" or making plans. The day is here. Right now. The day my daughter has moved out. I remember every little decor phase she went through, the colors the walls have been, how excited she was to have such a big room and all the plans she had for it. I remember hearing the giggles fill up the room when she had sleepovers, and the glitter explosion from hell that I'm pretty sure is still embedded in the carpet somewhere. I can still hear her footsteps early on Christmas morning, coming out with her brother to get their stockings. No more will I hear her beautiful singing from down the hall, the blaring music when she took a shower, the "Oh my God, mom, mom, mom, listen..." as she runs out of her room to spill the latest T with me. No more will she come home from work, and sit on me like a giant lap dog because she's had a long day and...