Sophie's Scrambled Thoughts

Monday, 28th June

Dear Diary,

Apparently doing this is going to help with things.... I don’t see how. Making some notes in a book that’ll cure everything. Not likely. Never mind forget it. 

Thursday, 21st July

Dear Diary,

My therapist wasn’t happy with my entries to date so now I have to write about feelings and other garbage to keep her happy. Trouble is I don’t exactly know what I am feeling. It’s like I am in some kind of suspended animation. It’s strange how everyone else is reacting. Like this is all some big thing but I am not feeling it. Is that enough feelings? I hope so.

Wednesday, 13th August

Dear Diary,

Apparently, that doesn’t really touch the surface of my feelings that I am supposed to be delving into. What the hell am I supposed to say or feel? I don’t know what the right answer is. My whole world has been turned on its head, people look at me differently. I don’t know how that makes me feel. Everyone has something to say about it and everyone's Aunty or neighbour has had the exact same thing. I don’t care!!! I don’t want your horror stories about what’s happening to me. I want you to tell me how your day was. What you had for lunch and if your kid managed to make it to the potty on time. I’m still me. I haven’t changed so don’t change around me. Everyone keeps crying and I have to support them. They are sad for me. Piss off!! Stop crying on me!!! I seriously don’t need it. I guess I am angry. There you happy therapist lady?! I AM ANGRY!!!

Tuesday, 2nd September

Dear Diary,

Turns out my anger was an issue that I needed to talk about and it was just me hiding my actual feelings. Our next session delved into everything that was going on and for the first time since this whole crazy thing started that I actually cried. I been so frustrated and in denial about it all. I was never good at emotions beforehand and now there is just so many of them coming at me. Therapist lady has given me a limit and says I have to write a whole page this time instead of just a few lines. This is going to be the most boring diary anyone will ever read if they pick it up. Feelings. Yuk. Writing. Boring. Diary. What am I a teenage girl? It feels like it. On top of all the emotions I have what feels like a never-ending assignment that I am constantly failing. Kind of like life. Constantly failing at that. I don’t have the words to make people feel better about my situation. I still don’t understand why I should have to. Seriously don’t visit me if you are going to make it all about yourself. I don’t care how sad you are about this. I just don’t. I’m not even sorry if that makes me a horrible person. I don’t have feelings about it so what in the hell makes them think that I care about their feelings. I still don’t care about this stupid diary either. Is that page enough? I wonder how much I can fill with nothing before I get in trouble. So that my friend brings us to the end of what I have to say about today and I hope you have enjoyed this more lengthy entry. Thank you for your valuable time in reading this entry. So long and farewell l until I write again soon. 

Kindest of regards.

Sophie

Thursday, 25th December

Dear Diary,

Merry Christmas. I know it’s been a while and I am not even that sorry. My therapist abandoned the idea of this. She said I wasn’t taking it seriously enough. Wonder if she was trying the reverse psychology on me. Like that’s going to work. Ok so I guess it did. Well it was the weirdest Christmas I ever had. I stayed in and people came to me in small rotating groups it was so strange not being at a huge long table with all the extended family. But it was fine. People tried their best even though they had no idea what to say and just sat awkwardly in silence. My brother knew he wouldn’t know what to do so came over with bulk Christmas crackers and spent his time with me reading the awful jokes out of them. He then attempted to see how many crowns he could fit on his head. Zero. The answer is zero those paper things are not made for a large adult male head. It was good to have a laugh and spend some time with someone who wasn’t there to cry on me and let me know how awful they felt. There was a slight normality in just hanging out and being silly. I hoped he would stay in town a while longer as he has been working interstate most of the year so he has not been around since about March. He’s the first one ti look at me and talk to me like things aren’t different. But it was such a blow to go from that to Mum’s visit. She’s been pretty full on since everything began. Been trying to get me to move in with her. Since dad up and left when I was younger and my brother not being around, I know she has been pretty lonely. But she is the worst for the emotions. Not even a Merry Christmas out of her. Just an “Oh my baby. My poor baby.” I had to sit there and hold her hand and listen to her go on about "Last Christmas." Trying to convince her that everything was fine and things would be back to normal soon even though deep down I knew it wouldn't be. Finally, everyone had finished their obligatory visits and I was able to sit and chill with my dog Shiloh. He followed me around the rest of the afternoon. Not that there was a whole lot of movement and any movement there was was very slow. Generally, from the couch to the bathroom for a vomit and then either to couch or bed. It was exhausting having so many people stop by. Thankfully there wasn't another event people felt they had to visit until my birthday in about three months. Would you look at that when she told me to stop worrying about the diary, I finally wrote the most in it. It's been a long day finally off to bed for me. 

Thursday, 1st January

Dear Diary,

Happy new year. Or for me it's just New Year. I guess I have finally come to the realisation that this is it. That there is no getting better. My life is basically hospitals and home. I've always tried to look on the silver lining of everything and all I can think of at this stage is that at least it won't be long. I can barely function anymore and the chemo has been making me sicker than the cancer. The doctor seems to think I have a couple of months left. I always wanted to make sure that I did some of the things that I wanted to do before I wouldn’t be able to do them. But it appears I left it all too late. I don’t want to be sick anymore. Everything hurts. I look awful. I stopped going to the shops a little while ago and now people just drop things to me. Ever since the kids started pointing and being like “What’s wrong with her mummy?” “Why does she have no hair?” “Is that a ghost Mumma?” I decided from then it was probably time to stay in. I didn’t even see the new year in I was in bed by 8 like I am a lot lately. I got to see everyone's photos when I got online this morning. It’s so surreal how the world goes on when you are no longer a part of it. People just don’t know what to say. I’ve probably made all my family and friends sound awful. They are trying and they visit when possible and many have expressed intentions of visiting with no follow through. I get messages from people frequently and when something big happens often flowers. I just can’t have anyone over who has the slightest chance of having any bug. At this stage I would likely never recover if I caught one. I remember each year on this very day always making the proclamation “This is going to be my year. Last year was garbage so this one will be better.” It seems odd to not be uttering those words this year. I guess the closest I could make at this stage is “This year is going to be my last year.” But people don’t want to hear that. It’s funny how things change a lot. The very idea of a diary had me laughing and angry just a few months ago and now whenever I have a little energy, I seem to be able to blurt it all out. Speaking of energy that’s about all I have for today. 

Wednesday, 14th January

Dear Diary,

They took Shiloh away from me today. I’m not able to care for him like I used to. He will be living with mum so she can bring him for visits. I don’t know if she will keep him though. It’s weird not having him around the house but I know it was the right thing for him. I don’t have the energy to even cry. And sorry if I lulled you into thinking these entries would get longer. I’m too exhausted to write any more. 

Sunday. 18th January

Dear Diary,

I can barely hold the pen at the moment. The days have become harder along with everything. Walking. Talking. Breathing. I don’t really know that there is all that much to say other than this sucks and....