Friday, April 18, 2014


Everyone wants to think they are strong.  We all want to feel like there is nothing we cannot accomplish.  It doesn't matter what the ability is or what obstacle you overcome to be viewed as strong ... we ALL want that.  If you're denying it right now, trust me, your moment will come. 

For me?  I set out on this journey determined to do it with a smile.  Do you want to know why?  Well, I'll be honest.  It was so when I die, people will comment about how strong and positive I was.  I will inspire others that no matter what life throws at them, they can smile and keep battling on.  

Weird aspirations?  Sure.  But, who doesn't want to leave a legacy behind them? I bet even the shiest person wants someone to remark on their lives when they are gone.  It's human nature.  We are always trying to be "known".  

I wanted to be strong.  I wanted to be positive.  I still tell myself daily to be strong and to be positive.  I smile all the time.  It doesn't always mean I'm bubbling over with happiness or even just contently happy.  No.  Sometimes it's a well placed mask because ... this is my battle.  I don't need to be moody, upset, angry, tired, mopey, whiney, mad at the world, on the outside.  Moods are contagious and ... if I was that way, it would spread.  I'd rather plaster a smiling mask on my face and hopefully brighten someone's day.  

But, I'm not strong and a lot of the time, I'm not positive.  Sometimes, I don't want to do this anymore.  I'll admit it.  What's the point of fighting against something that is never going to go away?  But, ultimately, I don't want to die either.  

I'm made of porcelain and not iron.  I've got quite a few cracks in me now.  Lately, it's been harder to hide those cracks.  

Outside influences have broken down my shell.  Other people's moods have made it extremely difficult to keep walking tall, keeping this smile firmly in place.  This is where I know I'm porcelain.  If I wasn't ... I wouldn't care about what other people do.  I'd just keep going. 

I listen to people complain day in and day out.  I listen to them pointing fingers and shoving the blame from them.  I exist in a world with less and less accountability.  

There is a ton of strength and credibility in admitting when you are wrong, swallowing the humble pie and moving on.   It's also a chance for people to learn life lessons.  It would even make them ... get this ... stronger.  

However, I am not responsible for their actions, and I will be damned if I continue to let myself be affected by those actions.  

Anyway, what I meant by all this is, I'm not the brave warrior fighting the battle of my life that I set out to be.  I'm pretty darn weak.  I am admitting it.  I admit I had a lot of deep rooted depression prior to all this happening in my life.  That certainly didn't help.  

I gained weight, I gained what I'd recently lost and then some.  I'm well aware of what I should look like.  Weight, diets, exercise, ... it's all thrown in my face and shoved down my throat every time I look at Facebook or sit near anyone.  Everyone is seeking some sort of accolades for their exercises.  They want the compliments, they want the glory.  I get it all ... I understand it.  I am not telling anyone to stop talking about it.  But ... it's pointing a very large finger at my fat ass all the time in my head.  Yes ... if you read that sentence right ... I said it was in my head.  I'm not telling you you're calling me fat.   

I'm fat.  

I was a thin child, a thin teenager and now a fat adult.  I was doing something about that when everything fell apart and it has been the biggest battle of them all to get back on the horse.   I fight that battle EVERY DAY!  I am in a position where I know what I want to do with my lifestyle changes ... but am lacking in the funds required to get that off the ground. 

I've started saving tiny bits here and there, but it's going to be a bit.  I've been walking where I can.  I do squats and planks every day.  Nothing's changing.  I am not losing weight.  I still look absolutely hideously disgusting.  I can't stand it.  I can't.  

And it really doesn't help when someone who is very close to me makes comments about it.  

I feel like lately, one part of my support structure is more like a toothpick.  If it was a rock like the others ... those comments would never be made.  There would be more of an effort to actually help ... versus destroying what little confidence is left.  

See?  I'm fragile, porcelain, sensitive.  I'm not that smiling pillar of strength.  

Honestly?  This is fucking hard, pardon my french.  It's hard.  It's hard to want something you can't have, to know you can't even entertain that thought for another two years, to be surrounded by it, to see people who take it for granted, to be in debt so badly that you can't take a day off, to feel desperate to get more hours when in your mind you desperately want to rest, to feel like you're being held down by an invisible weight every day, to feel nauseous, to feel aches and pains, to feel like you have to push on and on and on like nothing is wrong purely for everyone else's benefit, to feel like you're being pulled in two directions: one side telling you that you work too much, the other half saying you need to work more.  

It's damn hard.  I live with Wegener's every day, dealing with all my symptoms and the shit that comes with that.  But, I feel like I walk every day, looking over my shoulder for cancer to come back.    I realize this every time I do my blood work.  Will there be a spike?  Is this when Dr. Zhang calls me to come see him?   Will I be able to sail away from it as easily as last time?  

I lost my mom when I was 17, my little brothers were 5 and 6. This is why I am not pushing for adopting a child ... I live in absolute terror of doing that to my children.  It would feel selfish to bring a child into my family knowing I live with something that could take me out.  I know fate can step in and kill us all ... but I have a much greater chance of dying than most of my friends. 

I'm an obese porcelain doll.  You don't see those on the shelves, do you?  No.  They wouldn't sell.  But, it's what I am.  It's what I am dealing with.  I'm not strong like I want to be.  I won't leave the legacy I want to behind me.  

But ... it is what it is.  

1 comment:

  1. Nikki, have you ever seen the tableware, vases, and other pieces made up of all different broken pieces of porcelain or china, glued together onto the object? They're beautiful... Just like us fragile patients.