All of this chemo stuff is moving so quickly. Having my port placed Wednesday and starting treatments a week from tomorrow. Just thinking about it makes my stomach turn and sends a shock of dread and fear and anxiety through my entire body.
I know it's vain, but I dread the way I'll feel about my appearance. Surgery scars, a port on my chest, no hair. I like to feel pretty, cute, and desirable, and I doubt I'll feel like any of those things very often. It's not a crime to enjoy those feelings, and I don't base my whole self worth on them. I'm kind of smart, decently funny, and generally a good person, and those things matter more than anything. But nobody wants to hate the way they look.
I'm proud of myself because so far I've managed not to get all anxious about not talking to him. I know that sounds crazy. It kind of is crazy in an emotional dependence type of way. But I'm working hard on that and the reasons why I can be that way at times. Which is why I'm proud of myself for not freaking out. I'm not really helping myself sound not crazy right now. But I think the reason I let things get to that point is because I've needed so much support and attention on an intimate level, and I'm not getting it from my marriage, and it isn't the same type of support you can get from friends, really. I also think it would be different if we were in a relationship where we got to physically be near each other. Sometimes just someone's presence is all the reassurance you need. That's not something you can get online, which I think is part of why I feel like I need such constant reassurance from him. I don't know how else to explain it. Don't get me wrong, I've emailed him a few times, but mostly because I like the idea of him logging in and seeing a quick note from me and it hopefully making him smile. Anyways. I'm working on the crazy. It will take time.
11:35 p.m. - 2014-06-08