It's been one of those days where tears before bedtime are inevitable. Or in my case, tears before dinnertime.
Still grieving apparently.
It keeps catching me by surprise. I keep thinking I'm done with the crying and then it starts again. I keep thinking I've accepted my lopsidedness; my scar but then the grief gets teased out and the tears come again.
I think I've finally found my anger though - I'm left being angry with the cancer because there is nothing else to be angry with. How dare it come into *my* life? How dare it take *my* breast? How dare it grow in *my* body? And it will never be gone - even though the growing cancer has gone (I hope) - its repercussions and its memories will never be gone. I cannot define myself without it. You try it - you try looking at yourself with a scar like this - or any major scar. For better or worse, it's you and you (I) have to accept it and you have to get on with living life - but you don't like it, the whole way you feel about your body changes. I don't like the way I look, I don't like the way it feels to have one breast, I don't like the diagonal scar - although it's as smooth as silk after all bio-oil it's had put on it. I don't think I'll ever be comfortable - I think there will always be an underlying hatred of it, and it's hard to hate yourself.
In other news, want to see a picture of the new house?
This is the back of the house. Doesn't look like much really, does it? But it is nice....I promise. More pictures when we get some furniture in it.