Meltdown

The interesting thing about radiation therapy is the effects are latent. You don't see the maximum effect until after the treatment is complete. Effects continue to evolve 2-3 weeks after treatment is done so even though you can celebrate that treatment is complete, you're not exactly out of the proverbial woods.
Yesterday I experienced the first  real cognitive meltdown associated with the side effects of radiation therapy to my brain. Emotions tend to be difficult to reign in once they are underway, so I try not to  choose a negative one because it can have a significant impact on multiple levels. It's like an avalanche on a steep mountainside, picking up speed, momentum and lethality as it grows into a monster.
Anger is the craziest. I am able to go from 0 to totally pissed off in a matter of seconds, which can lay waste to every positive thing that lay in front of me. I really don't like anger because it's so tough on the people around me and in my case,  12 year-old and 14 year-old daughters, who don't need to see Mom's head spin on a 360 degree axis. Sometimes, in their case, an expression of anger sends the very effective message that a particular behavior is not acceptable as long as that anger is reigned in and controlled effectively. However, my problem is the anger beast just gains momentum and doesn't stop, finding more things to be angry about, and turning a very small irritation into a global  crisis such as the end of the world or complete and total planetary devastation.
So I don't choose anger. I choose passivity. I choose to let anger wash over me. It's not the end of the world I tell myself. I choose not to engage to keep the beast in its cage. I choose to walk away from a battle I will certainly not win.
Then there is sadness, sorrow and despair. I don't like these either because they are consumptive. Once the path of sadness is chosen, it compounds to sorrow, despair, depression, and my least favorite of all, hopelessness.  It's a deep, dark hole that is difficult to escape, and given the level of radiation impairment, I am not too proud to think I can survive it.
So I don't choose sadness either.
I do believe that emotions are a choice. We can choose our emotions based on how we think about things. How we choose to think about something, is how we control how we feel about something. For example, you can choose to think that getting cancer is unlucky or unfair with a resulting feeling of anger or sadness, which you then share with your already angry and sad world, thus perpetuating feelings of anger and sadness and an environment of despair. Most people won't call you on this one, (in the case of cancer) because there aren't many folks who can dispute the fact that cancer sucks.  But you can choose. You can look for the good part of cancer,  the gift, the opportunity, the part that inspires gratitude, hope, and joy, and the part that most people untouched by cancer don't understand. This choice can change the world for the better, and this is the choice I strive to make  (or try to) because I need the world around me to be better to help me fight it.

However,  anger and sadness can suck you in  in a weak moment. Sadly, my efforts failed me yesterday and I chose the dark side.

 I couldn't find anything remotely funny, humorous, positive or good about my situation or what was currently happening. It seemed as if the universe was conspiring against my best efforts to choose only positive emotions by putting every irritatingly, possible example in my way and taunting me to choose a positive response. It felt like a test and I chose to fail it on purpose. I chose to let all those negative thoughts and emotions have their moment. All. At. Once.
.
It began with a tantrum of epic proportions, full of rage, and frustration that would mortify a room full of sociopathic, menopausal women. I chose anger, fury, and outrage on a GLOBAL scale. I screamed to the void about woe is me, and fuck that person that should get it, but doesn't, and why do the people I need the most run the farthest away?  I cursed the person, a full evolutionary step behind me, that had the audacity to misinterpret my best intentions and attack me for making the most of my life. I raged over the selfishness of parents who allow their children to feel unloved, unwanted, and unappreciated, and then expect those same children to magically be pillars of society and to come to their parent's rescue when times get hard. I ranted about the unfairness of poverty, the unrealistic expectations of women to do 10 times the work for half the credit and the stupidity of a nation that would choose the worst of us to lead us, and the unnecessary losses of good people for stupid reasons. I tantrumed, raged, hated, and cursed everything, including darkness, the weather, and cancer.
And not so surprisingly, this led to a cascade of  passionately deep sadness.
Sad for my kids. Sad for my ever supportive husband. Sad for the people who don't get it and never will. Sad that I can't see out of my left eye, that my head hurts, that my balance is off, and that I feel like vomiting all the time. Sad for the fact that I wanted so badly to punch someone and realized that  one explosive burst of energy would cripple me for a full day. Sad to be weak. Sad for myself.  Sad that I allowed myself to rage so irresponsibly. Sad that I lost compassion and understanding. Sad that I failed myself. Sad that I didn't rise above.....

It took about an hour, ending in tears and expletives, some fist pounding, and apologies to the universe. It ended with surrender, albeit gratefully inconsequential, 3 new episodes of Blacklist, and a coerced compassion for the cabbage patch that I will soon abandon out of principle. The effects of intracranial swelling continue to challenge my noble attempts to behave responsibly, and  I am hoping to see an improvement of symptoms over the next couple of weeks. I'm looking forward to hanging with some great, evolutionarily-superior friends who get it, the continued kindness of our amazing community who also get it,  and the hopes that radiation therapy will result in some new, cool, super powers that will allow me to bring good things to all those who are standing by us.

This is the human part of surviving. It's unprecedented fatigue, emotional lability, and unbridled vulnerability. It is the universe reminding me how small and insignificant I am and that doing one's best to rise above and be something better is more than just a noble cause, but rather the key to survival. Its about accepting yourself, right here, right now and being okay with the idea that this may be as good as it gets.  You have to be the goodness you want to see in this world in order to earn your place in it, and you can't let the miscreants yank you off your evolutionary step in the process. For now, I'm being present, hoping for more, accepting less, and trying to behave responsibly. Wish me luck, because tomorrow is another day.