Life shouldn’t have been so hard after beating its greatest nemesis: Cancer. Why must we continue to suffer under the oppressive thumb of a steady paycheck? It’s time to change this.
Call it survivor’s guilt, call it self-preservation; but I owe it to all of those young children I’d watch in constant pain, the old folks who just couldn’t fight anymore- those who didn’t survive, those that did, and to myself to do something different–
–To make a statement.
I’m a writer, and if it’s not a question of the quality of the content, then it’s one of bewilderment why I am sorely ignoring that skill for means of income, or that I haven’t shared my story sooner.
I’m tired of putting all of my energy in the thankless; I’m exhausted of my view of negativity in this world, I only want to shine a light on some positive, even though that very spotlight is birthed from the darkness that is cancer.
I’m hurting now, in a way in which I haven’t felt in over a decade. Myself and others around me are stuck in a spiritual rut and their pain is my pain.
The burden of guilt will forever be on my shoulders. I have a passion, and when I was freed from the chains of Leukemia, I should have taken action sooner. Instead, I then wasted more time; time other people wish they could spend with their fallen family members.
I have difficulty enjoying myself in regards to entertainment. If I don’t succeed in finishing some tasks during the day I feel that I don’t deserve the reward of watching a movie, or playing a game; and when I do anyway, I feel shameful. Myriad writers undoubtedly feel this burden too, but I can’t help but remark on how the survivor’s guilt adds weight to this nagging notion.
Currently, I’m falling behind on #MyCancerStory. The blog series where I chronicle my bout with cancer and how it affected me (broken out via weekly chapters every Monday), is one of the proudest moments in my life, and I’m behind four days… and I just started the chapter. Instead, I’m working extra jobs on my days off, working overtime at the hospital (of which I recently came back to), and now my life is dedicated to working.
My story isn’t over however because I cannot stand for this injustice. I’m doing something about it, and I can’t discuss it yet. Just know that I will not let this passion slip through my fingers, I will succeed, and I will do what I set out to do almost thirteen years ago at the same hospital at which I now work: live.