Writing With the Door Closed

              Candid picture of Jackie & I before our oncology consultations

(Rochester, 1.22.14)

MY STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS:

“give me the world, but for Christ’s sake, do not sugarcoat it. give me raw and gleaming with truth.”

My soul is in complete contradiction with itself, constantly trying to merge my old existence with my new one. This war is achingly real:  my body is supporting the growth of something that is not mine — feeding my inner workings with poison and toxins to guide it — while refusing to surrender to a mental imprisonment that so effortlessly presents itself –all while fueling a fire within to bring this life meaning.

“i want the madness to twirl me around until i can no longer stand. i refuse to be drunk on a soft world.”

You expect and hope that most days are filled with transactional experiences, mostly because they present themselves as distractions, persuading you to minimize the truth that you know and face. It’s amusing how quickly those exchanges evolve with a simple comment such as, “you look like someone who doesn’t fear anything.”

If only that were entirely true. You rationalize that your fear can either paralyze or propel you.  Unable to grasp a life that so willingly collapes around you, controlling emotions seems like the  only viable option. Wholeheartedly, you convince yourself that true intestinal fortitude is defined by avoiding all emotions and that any sign of weakness is not allowed.

As the universe laughed before, it once again mocks your new found resolution to detach. If by fate itself, you are presented with an old acquaintance, friend, and reminder. Every fiber of emotion that has for so long been suppressed, now presents itself as a broken spigot.  Everything spiraling into the darkness again, which oddly enough feels like home, a sense of normalcy. Grieving feels necessary for a life not lost, but a life of undeserving pain and hardship.

“My stars shine darkly over me; the malignancy of my fate might, perhaps distemper yours; therefore I shall crave of you your leave that I may bear my evils alone. It were a bad recompense for your love to lay any of them on you.”

I understand things most clearly in my solitude.

The fear of losing the fight has become equivalent to the fear of conquering it. Understanding how one bounces back from what feels, reads, and sounds like a death sentence becomes unfathomable. Questioning why you would want to be welcomed back into an outside world that decided to paint some pretty picture, a false image, while you were suffocating between four, white walls. Or even better, a world that chooses to idolize people who don’t inspire hope.

If only it were possible to transform the disease into a person as a means to place blame or concisely direct the rage.  Retreating to the past seems to give the mind a perception of ease. Dragging toxic events or people that could have rooted this internal manifestation. Only to ignite further frustration and conclude that you can’t reason with the disease. Logic convinces you of this: that there is no rhyme or reason. Especially after witnessing losses. All the  probabilities in their favor and all the prayers in the world couldn’t have kept them here, present. Wishing there was an explanation, a bigger picture to the madness. Struggling to bring justice to their short time here.

“tell me illuminating things and for each one you tell me, i will reply with something of darkness.

we will develop our souls in the balance: we will dance in the unison of all things and they meet

and there will be a fire in our hearts so big not even the oceans will be able to put us out.”

The blog post is dedicated to my dear friend, Jackie and my team: Costello, Leibovich, Renee, & Jessie.

Jackie, thank you for allowing me to break down my barriers, admit my fears, and feel my pain.

To my team : As unforgiving as those walls can be at times and as painfully real the halls become,

thanks for being my security, home, and family. So honored to be placed in your presence.

“I want to set fire to the truth I see around me and I want it to burn in the eyes of those who don’t see the world the way I do. I want to be strange and difficult and to stir in the hearts of men who choose to see the world so plainly.

This city has taught me to be fierce, and fierce I will be.”

Patience wears thin over time. Exhausted of being exhausted. Unapologetically taking life back into its rightful hands.

Santucci

**Quotations By Christopher Poindexter & William Shakespeare