Breathing should not be this hard.

Of all things that cause mental blockages when it comes to blogging, I sort of wish this was one of them. I wish I could go on with my life without having to sporadically submit readers to a pity party but sadly, it ain't so. I hate pity. There are only a few things that insult me more than being pitied and I really wish I could find another adjective to describe this post...

Today is a rough one. It started out just fine but as we started getting ready for the Terry Fox run, something in my head went click and the anxiety started to build up. Why? ... I say, why not? It seems like all the shit that's been going on sort of accumulated into this great bit heaping pile of stink and decided to take a crap on my day.

Every time I thought about going somewhere public, standing in a crowd and being reminded constantly of how many people die of cancer each year, my blood seemed to just freeze in my veins and the fear of being pitied ensued. I remember what it was like at the Relay for Life. I was able to hold back until we left and ignore the way I was treated (read: figuratively spit on) by other team mates. I didn't know how I was going to make do today. If I was going to be able to keep a straight face and not bite anyone's head off and/or run away.

Since the topic of participating in the Terry Fox event again this year came up, I've been unable to shake the thought that while we were walking in it last year my mom was slowly and unknowingly dying on her couch taking vitamins and trying to fight this "cold".

I've been able to push the thought to the back of my mind until fives minutes before we left. I put on a brave face and got in the car.

As we drove out, I started thinking of what it would be like once we got there. I didn't know who else was going to be there and already being on the edge of my very fragile brain, the thought of being treated in the same way I was at the Relay for Life (or any other function really) just pushed me to the limit. The limit of everything. Of missing my Mom. Of missing my family. Of how unfair life can be sometimes. Of how anxious I am to leave this place. Of how I miss my true friends. Of my anxiety disorder.

Needless to say, I asked Js to turn the car around and take me back home. The fact that he had to go was a sort of blessing in a way. It allowed me to close the door behind me, collapse in the doorway and stay there as long as I wanted. I was angry, my heart was torn out of my chest again and I longed for something I know I can never have. It hurt but it felt good to allow myself to feel that way. It felt like I needed to fall apart to be able to get back up again.

I felt horrible for not going. For bailing on Js' run like that at the last minute. I wish I could be there right now to support him. To show that I am proud of him. That she would be too. I just don't have the balls.

They say time heals all wounds. I think that's a lie. Time does not heal all wounds, damaged tissue never truly heals. Sometimes, you stub your toe and it hurts a bit but you keep going and then sometimes you want to sit on the floor, rock back and forth and hold your pinky toe in your hands and sob. Today is one of those days. I know it's only a molehill compared to all the things I will have to do without her but if I want to sit on the floor and sob, no one is going to tell me I can't god dammit.