It came to my mind yesterday that I was simply surviving life and not living it. Since my mom’s diagnosis of terminal cancer during the first week of November, I stopped living and started to struggle with surviving.
In a matter of one month, my mother went from having a treatable and curable form of Esophageal Cancer, to having cancer through large portions of her body and that it was no longer curable.
There have been times where life has stood still. Other times, it has been rushing past me and it takes all the energy I have to just hold on. And some times, I’m stumbling through everything. I keep reminding myself, even when I don’t believe it, “when you trip and fall, you’re still moving forward.”
I’m trying to hold on to that, along with the truth that God loves me, that I am one of His children and that He is always here for me … even when I want nothing to do with him. It hurts to even admit that in my mind, let alone admit that through written word and through spoken word. Right now, I’m mad at Him. I’m mad at God, not because my mom has cancer. I know as much as this hurts me, it hurts God even more. What I’m mad about is that she is still suffering. Every day it gets worse. We were told this would happen, that it would get slowly harder each day but there would be some good days. With the exception of two days, I can’t honestly say there have been any other good ones. It’s at the point where I’m silently screaming at God to just take her, to stop the pain, to stop the struggle and just take her to be with Him.
So I’m surviving. Some days are easier than others, while even some minutes are easier than others. Last night was filled with tantrums. Screaming and crying. Complete chaos. I felt like a lost little girl with no where to hide from the world.
I want to live my life again. I don’t just want to survive it.