Today I'd like to talk about a rather intense and sensitive topic. It's honestly very difficult finding the words to really write, I have never found it easy to speak about my feelings about things that have hurt me. I have never found it easy to make my fears known or to allow myself to remember pain by talking it through. While I have made previous posts, which have been deleted due to my intense anxiety over the idea of people reading it and thinking it stupid, I feel it is somewhat important that I do these posts. Not only to reach out to others, but it helps me. It clears my mind. It helps me do something I am so very unable to do so with an actual human being who is stood in front of me wanting to help. I am very incapable of telling actual people about my pain as I'd rather they didn't know. I'd rather not have people really see just how fragile I have become. However, I am learning this seems to be my only outlet and one I feel more comfortable with. Writing blog posts is a hobby, and so I'd very much hope that I can combine this hobby of mine with the intentions of helping others and sorting my own thoughts out in the process.
I have decided to create a short series of posts, as I do not want them to be an overwhelming lot of ramble that gets looked over. I want it to be something people can check in on and something that people will bother to read: to understand, to relate, to comfort themselves.
And so...
I suppose I should begin with properly introducing myself. People on my Facebook know me from high school, sixth form etc. People on my Twitter know me through friends or through my recent streaming and sudden tweeting addiction. Or maybe you don't know me, maybe you're an old friend who lost touch, maybe you're just a total stranger. Whoever you are, I feel that the odds are that you don't know me.
My name is Emily. As I write this post, I am twenty-one years old. Much to the disagreement of my friends, I'm just a normal twenty-one year old. I'm possibly the shyest person you may meet at first, but within a couple of minutes of talking you probably won't be able to shut me up or stop me from laughing. I have just about zero confidence in myself, but that's okay. I don't mind that. It's me. I've just recently started University, I have moved to Manchester. I want to do so many things with my life, I quite honestly don't know where the starting point is. I adore animals. I absolutely love everything and I fall in love with the simplest of things. I live in such a bubble and constantly think about romantic things that belong in books and things I am fully aware will never happen - but hey, a girl can dream! I am FAR from funny, in fact I'm perhaps that unfunny it's funny. I come from a little town in the West Midlands that near enough nobody has ever heard of, so I just refer to it as "kind of near Birmingham" - even though it is, in fact, nowhere near Birmingham. I have the most incredible family. I have my my Mother (AKA "Momma Colls"), my big brother and my beautiful little nephew who is my absolute favourite person on this entire planet. The love I have for my family is just incredible. It's overwhelming. As all families, we have had our arguments, but that doesn't change a thing. I love them all more than I could ever explain. They are my life and they are indeed the best friends I could have ever wished for.
Since before I can remember I have had this fear. A fear I cannot even begin to explain because it's one I can't fully comprehend myself.
I am terrified of cancer.
It is a fear I have had since I first learnt about it. This goes back at LEAST ten years to when I thought cancer was as easily treatable as the common cold. Once I had been set straight on the fact that cancer is in fact a heartbreaking illness and it's not that straight forward, I was terrified. This was never the intention of those who told me this, of course not, I would find this out one day and would still be equally terrified. Since I heard it, I had a powerful feeling that there would be a day that came where it would seriously affect me and my life. It's totally inexplicable and perhaps I sound a little crazy. No, I definitely sound crazy. It was just this gut instinct that I could not shake, this inexplainable paranoia.
In 2012 it was proven to me that this fear of mine was not a case of excessive paranoia, but this wrenching gut feeling was, in fact, completely accurate. That big dreaded "C" word was about to change my life completely, and I was more terrified than I had imagined. No matter how much I tried to prepare myself in life for something like this, it was not enough. Never would I be prepared for the pain that came with this.
This is where the posts begin to get rather difficult to write and I'm getting anxious and I find myself pausing from typing, pulling at my hair, fidgeting - completely unsure of what to write, whether to continue or whether to just delete everything I have written so far...
I feel this is an appropriate part for me to stop, as it's actually causing me a "little" stress trying to type the words bouncing around in my head. I'll build up the following post, I apologise that this one didn't get very far.
