I don't want to hide anymore

I’ve been thinking about how everyone keeps calling me brave. Because my view of myself from the inside is often a bumbling, neurotic, insecure woman. There. It’s out there now. I’m actually a very insecure, nervous nelly! I overthink everything. I dissect what I say. What I do. What I wear. How I speak. All of it. I think one of the reasons I loved living in New York is that I blended in so easily with all the other neurotics. 

Maybe this isn’t as big of surprise to you as I think it is. Perhaps it is.

Either way, I want to come clean. I want to come out of the insecurity closet and wear my neurosis proudly! Because, in the end, who the fuck isn’t insecure? Or questioning themselves all the time? One of the best things about being such an overly sensitive neurotic is that it makes me self-aware – some of the time too much, obviously – but a lot of the time, it allows me to sense someone’s sadness and ask if they are ok, inviting a heartfelt conversation. It allows me to think about each and every post and wonder: is this going to contribute to the Internet conversation in some meaningful way? Or is it just self-importance drivel?

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Everything I do to heal

This is my belly during acupuncture which I get for digestion and back pain. Dr. Wang adds electrodes to the needles for extra activation.

I’ve watched all of the Bourne movies at least 50 times. My favorite thing about Jason Bourne is that he is never a victim. Even when they try to assassinate him, he doesn’t run away. He confidently heads TOWARD the shooter. He doesn’t hide. He doesn’t wallow. He doesn’t cower in fear. He confidently flips the situation to his advantage.

Dorky, I know but movies like this help my mental state. It’s so easy to get down these days. SO EASY. 

I want to head towards cancer and the havoc it caused my body.

I want to challenge it. 

CONQUER IT.

More than anything, I want to prove the doctors wrong.

I love proving doctors wrong.

When I asked the gastroenterologist how to prevent bowel obstructions last summer after my hospitalization, he said

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Dear Cancer I want to hate you

Dear Cancer,

I want to hate you. I do. I want to KICK your ass with everyone cheering me on. FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT you as the enemy. I want to beat on you with a baseball bat, gloved fists, booted feet. You have stolen seven organs from my family in 18 months. You have halted my life. Cut me open, raw, 7-inch scar left in your wake. Toxic drugs plunging through my veins. Shrunk my beloved palate and plate. Messed with my hormones. Forced me to quit working. Changed so much of my life. You're still stealing from my dad. You've already taken enough from my sister. I want to hate you.

But I can't. I can't hate you. Ohhhhhhh, how I want to hate you.

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