Emotionless

I have several things I want to blog about. For those of you that have requested more blogs, I promise I think of them. I actually do want to blog, but I know it always ends with me crying and bringing up things I don't want to think about. On the other hand, it's good for me to blog because I do bring up things that I need to deal with. This is a good way for me to cope. It forces me to come out from behind the dense wall I use for my protection. I have come a really long way, but recently I feel myself slipping back into my old habits. Last year, I did an internship at a Young Life camp and I learned so much about the Lord and my relationship with him, myself, others, and how to deal with losing my mom and coping with my crazy life. Alot of what pushed me through that year of hell was the community I was in. I don't have a good community here like I did last year, so no one keeps me accountable for my way of coping.


Back when my mom was first diagnosed with cancer, everyone came rushing to our sides with lots of advice. I was the oldest and constantly got this "advice" "Be strong! Be strong for your family, your dad, brothers, and mom! They need you!" Whoever thinks that is good advice, should be slapped. I was 11. I didn't know any better, so what do you think I did? I became strong. I became what I thought my family needed. Someone who didn't get upset every time she saw her mom lifeless on the couch, half dead from chemo. Someone who didn't cry and run to her mom when EVERY test result came back with bad news. Someone who just lived her life as though everything was perfect. Someone who was strong. To be really honest, I don't remember much from middle school. I remember being hurt by friends. I remember a few youth group trips. But I don't remember much from my mom being sick. I tried so hard to keep everything in and not be bothered that I apparently forgot most of it. The things I do remember are dark, literally. Chemo has come a really long way from when my mom was given her first round till now. Even the last time my mom had a chemo treatment, it was completely different than the first. She had an amazing doctor that stayed way far ahead of most oncologists. He tried surgeries and treatments with her that had not been passed by the FDA. She was actually in some educational videos for training doctors on the new surgery. Anyways, her doctor told her before her first treatment that they were going to give her as much chemo as they could without killing her. And oh did they do this. This is the dark part. I just remember her being so sick that EVERY light in the house had to be off. My dad had to hang blankets on the windows and doors so no light at all could come in. We had to be really quiet and she couldn't really respond or talk to us. Just sitting here, writing all of that, I was thinking, 'goodness! how could a little girl go home to that every day and then go back to school the next and be able to function.' All I know is that I did it. I pushed everything down so far and built up the biggest wall, nothing phased me. I never cried, I never clinged to my mom or my dad, I never showed anything to anyone. I don't even think my friends really knew what was going on at my house. I was so fake on the outside, just being my bubbly self, but so hurt on the inside that I was emotionless.