Progress

I'm slowly getting into the swing of things. Very, very, very slowly. I've been meaning to go to the gym for a week now, although I still haven't made it. Partly this is do the fact that work has been rather tiring of late and partly, although some people would say otherwise, I'm not a morning person. I did get up yesterday in gym clothes at 6am, only to promptly go back to bed. However, I did take a brisk one hour walk in the momentary hiccup of the weather, it was around sixty degrees, sunny, and just beautiful all around. I was tired but incredibly refreshed, the whole time it felt like I was re-introducing myself to my body and what it can do.

For the first time in a while I felt blessed to be alive and not in just some "I have to thankful I'm not dying way." It felt good to be alive, period. Saying all that, I still feel like a weirdo. I haven't looked like a proper girl in ages, if it was just the hair I think I could deal - I actually always wanted to shave my head once in my life - but it's so much more than that. With the chemo I had a regiment, one week on, one week off. It's how I orientated myself, this week I will feel like I want to die and this week I will anticipate that feeling: there was order and a system, it was horrible but it gave me a way to exist and know "where I was". Now post-chemo, when everyone is cheering that the cancer is gone and I look "good" things seem to be incredibly disorienting. I should be happy that this thing is almost over and done with, but I'm not. I'm still tired, I'm incredibly vain - the extra pounds bother me a lot, the hair is growing slowly, the eyelashes are still paltry, - I look ugly. The stress of being away from my boyfriend, of starting a job search in the overly expensive NYC, of leaving my mother, is slightly getting to me. Everything is in my hands, I know that, but it seems like Herculean task at the moment, putting my life back in order.