I can remember sitting on the step of my front porch, crying. And, I don’t mean streams of tears, I mean bawling.

I was beyond sad.

It was a Saturday, I was folding laundry and my dad called. I walked outside in order to have some privacy.

My dad wanted to know the latest news on my diagnoses.

I was trying to explain all the complicating factors that follow breast cancer to my dad. He was trying to be supportive but I was beyond annoyed. It wasn’t his fault. I just felt overwhelmed and wanted it all to go away.

After I hung up the phone, I was breathless. I was so sad that even moving was impossible.

The tears flowed harder.

Scott came outside and sat next to me.

He asked what was wrong…and the wave hit hard.

“I will forever have this issue. A mastectomy is only a small fraction of this battle. Radiation is small fraction of this battle. I will always have fear. I will have this burden on my back until I die. And, I am so pissed. I am so mad at everyone. I am so angry. What if I die from this? What about the kids? What about us? “

The sadness of cancer was overwhelming. I felt as if I was literally swimming through sand.

I couldn’t breathe. I felt as if I couldn’t move. I wanted to just sink.

I felt alone for the first time in my life, even with my husband sitting next to me.

I can’t remember how long I felt like this.

Then, like all grief, I started back up the rollercoaster.

I started to read- a lot! I researched to get some sense of control. I wanted to control everything that I could- because cancer was out of my control.

I ordered books on breast cancer from Amazon. I hired a dietician to find support in my diet. I connected with people on Instagram and shared stories and ideas. I joined support groups. I started to focus on self care. I started acupuncture. Full body massages became part of my monthly routine. I saw a lymphatic massage therapist.

And the result… anger, sadness, and fear were all still in my backseat.

Control is an illusion.

The reality is that I may have a reoccurrence, or I may not. I can worry myself to death, or I can try to move on.

It has been almost 10 months since I was diagnosed.

I have invited every emotion into my world. Anger seems to pop up the most.

My anger, recently however, has started to fade. Sure, there are days when I hate everyone, but they seem to be less. Anger is exhausting to hold onto.

Sadness is fading as well. I honestly never mourned losing my boob. For me, boobs are boobs. I just happen to have one. Putting my body through this treatment is harder on my emotions. I hated radiation. I hate this medication.

My biggest challenge is fear. But, fear and I dance together often. I think that I will battle fear forever. I have always been a worrier and cancer has taken this trait to a new level. I have so many fears. I am fearful that my cancer may come back. I am fearful that radiation caused more harm than good. I fear my medication. I fear cancer.

Emotions come in waves. I ride these emotions like a novice surfer. These waves sometimes hit when I least expect it.

I have always worn my emotions on my sleeve, and sharing them has never been an issue. My husband would say that I maybe share a little too often.

Cancer hurt my heart. Cancer made me feel completely out of control. Cancer made my body go through enormous changes. Cancer stole my energy and time.

However, I am grateful.

So… fear, anger, sadness, and gratitude- we will continue to dance. We will continue this dysfunctional, overlapping relationship. I will welcome you on days, but keep the door shut on others.