Darian's Not So Secret Diary

I went too long without writing. Or talking? Or praying? I went too long without something, and now there's too much noise in my head, too many thoughts rolling around. Like when you walk into a crowded bar, there's music blaring, all sorts of people talking over each other, you hear everything they're saying yet can't decipher anything they're saying because it's all too damn loud. So you just kind of stand there, having no clue what's being said but nodding along like you're in total agreement with whatever the hell it is they're saying. That's my brain on too many thoughts.  Throughout this whole process everyone, including survivors, tells you that you find a new normal. During chemo, you find a rhythm, you find a normal. After surgery, you find a normal. During radiation, you find a normal. After all of it, you find a normal. To that, I'm going to have to call BS. Post cancer normal really isn't a thing. Normal during any phase of ca

The last few weeks, since my incision closed up and I awaited radiation, it's been like finding pieces of my former life. As if I stand at a battlefield, or demolished city, wreckage surrounding me, and try to assess the damage of what's left. There's the stench of death in the air, while some aspects of me lay dead at my feet, others are still hidden underneath the rubble. Wounded parts cry out for help, to be saved, screaming in fear that they'll be lost to me forever. I know I have to tend to them before they slip away from me, but while I try to save some I know it will cause me to lose other pieces of me. I don't know which to save first. I want to save it all, but I know it's too late for that. There's already so much that's dead, lost, gone forever. The girl I was before this battle started is gone, emerging from the fog and smoke looming in the air is someone who looks like me, but she's scarred now, both physically and deep within her soul

Ever since I had the last drain removed I've started to feel, almost, normal. During this strange time when people of our state are being told to stay away from others and stay home. My Facebook newsfeed has been filled with people complaining about this time of being trapped in their home. Stuck with their family. Having nothing to do. Where as I have been savoring every minute of this. I've been in this weird stretch, where I feel pretty okay but my incisions weren't quite ready to start radiation. So I've used this time to do all the things I haven't been able to do for months. I've cleaned all the things ever, I've reorganized, I've done some cooking, endless laundry, I've taken daily walks with my son, I've started doing my bible studies again, started writing again. In the middle of all this chaos of cancer and Covid, I have been given a tremendous gift - the gift of being a stay-at-home-mom, if only for a moment. I used to say that I

The last nine months of my life have been filled with change. Unexpected change, unwanted change, forced change, so much change. For a girl who likes change in small doses in a controlled manner, it's been a learning process. During all of it, I'm trying to listen to God, for guidance and courage to do whatever it is He guides me to. I feel like I'm just stumbling my way through, blind, no idea where I am or where I'm going. I only know that I am in fact, going somewhere, to do...something. I ask Him what I'm supposed to do, then listen. If I'm not sure, I ask Him to be a little louder. Really, I ask Him to slap me upside the head just to make sure I don't miss it. I was once called a writer. Long ago, that was my passion, my job. But life and the world changed and for years I just thought of that as something I once was, that girl I barely remember now, she used to do that writing thing. For a long time I missed it, like an addict needs a fix. But over

Before my surgery I had a talk with my son about what he was nervous about, because as it approached you could tell he was pretty nervous. He said that he was worried I would come down sick while my body was trying to recover, and that that would make everything worse. It was a legit concern, I come down sick a lot, my immune system is crap, it wasn't far out of the realm of possibility. I told him how when I get really really sick sometimes, for too long, it does get hard on me. Sometimes I cry a little bit, sometimes I feel like I can't keep going like this, sometimes I get scared. But in those moments of feeling like the weight is too big for me, like I just can't take it anymore, I remind myself to have faith, to trust God, and believe that God will get me through this. That sometimes I will sit and say repeatedly, almost like a prayer, "God, please get me through this," and then I have to remember to have faith, trust, and believe that he will. Then I told

I've never really been one to cry. It by no means stems from a lack of desire to cry. Life's handed me plenty of opportunities that I wanted nothing but to curl up and cry. A big part of it comes from how I was raised, and I think my brother would probably agree, even if it hurt to do so. It was just sort of this unspoken rule, you didn't cry. If you did cry, that was shut down real quick. Either by some jackass remark made by dad, or by mom trying to get you to shut up to prevent said jackass remarks from dad. But by the time you were old enough to realize that mom was trying to help you, you had already learned that it just wasn't acceptable to cry in our family. The damage was done. Suck it up, buttercup, no one wants to see that. In the darkest of times, it was a rarity to see mom cry. Or grandma. And I don't recall ever seeing my dad cry. Maybe he did at mom's funeral, but at that moment his feelings was the last thing on my mind. There were times growi

Day 14 of the hostage situation, despite the best efforts of her mind and body to get her to succumb to just wasting away into a depressed, cookie stuffed, pile of a sobbing mush...the prisoner has escaped 3 times. Once to Hobby Lobby, once to church, and once to run errands with her husband. Daily, efforts are made within her heart and mind to break her down, but as of today, she has not yet caved. Although she did purchase a can of Pringles she has absolutely no intentions of sharing with anyone. We consider this a step in our favor...give in, become sad, scared...cave.... People ask me a lot, how I'm doing, and I always only say "I'm doing okay." I think for a couple of reasons. One, because I am okay. Two, because there aren't many people asking that question that really, really want the TRUE answer. Like, if I just unloaded on them everything going through my mind I can almost guarantee they'd just stand there, staring at me, speechless. Because they

So I had mentioned in one of my earlier posts about joining some support groups on Facebook; not so much in looking for support but in seeking to be a supporter. I don't have a ton of support group experience, I absolutely sucked at it when I was younger. Turns out, yup, still suck at it now. I know, I'm as shocked as you are... When I decided to dive into this whole support group thing, I just kind of thought a group was a group. Yeah, not so much. Sure there are some blanket, general, breast cancer/issues groups. But it also seems to be progressive type groups as well. When you're in X phase of the process you're in this group, then you kind of graduate to this group, then this group, then at some point you've been through the whole cancer process - you're officially a support group badass and can pop in and out of any of them sprinkling wisdom as you go. And then there's me...just stumbling my dumbass all the way through each one of them. During th

I keep crying today. I have no idea why. I have no idea what started it. And I have no idea how to stop it. I'm just sitting here, tears trickling down my face without restraint, carrying with them a pain, or sorrow, or fear I cannot yet understand. It comes from deep within my soul, the parts that only God sees, only God hears the thoughts coming from it. It feels like pain from another lifetime, from pain I've not yet had to face, it comes from change not yet revealed to me. My tears are too great for me to understand. I know some people would tell me it's because I've been through so much, it's hard, I can't hold it in all the time. But none of that is true. Steve, my rock, my guardian, my friend, he asked me what was wrong and I told him I think I'm just tired. Just really, really tired. But I don't even think that's true. In fact I know it's not true, because my heart says so. Some people would tell me to not be so hard on myself, I'

Through this...I hate the word journey, because that feels like a road you chose..so I suppose, through this phase of life we'll say, there has been countless blessings. Countless people truly concerned about how I'm doing, how my family is doing, and going above and beyond to show they care. So what I say today isn't meant as a dig against anyone specific, it's more of a learning tool in general. When I say "you" I don't necessarily mean you specifically, it's meant as a general blanket word. But I started this blog, not only to help myself get through this, but to hopefully reach others, in whatever way God wanted to put on their heart. Whatever connection to their story he wanted to show them, whatever thing He wanted to teach them so maybe as they deal with others in their life who have cancer - they might change their approach a little. I was talking to my husband the other day about something that's been heavy on my heart, just, botheri