Life is SHIT, now let’s talk about it!

Disclaimer – if you don’t like swearing, I advise you don’t read any further… if you hadn’t worked that out from the title!

Last Sunday, my mum, my sister, and myself were putting the world to right over a glass (*bottles*) of wine. We discussed everything from Black Lives Matter, Women Belong in the Boardroom, the 8th Amendment and how SHIT life can be.

No one has it easy, but the problem is we don’t talk about how SHIT it is! We discussed putting our problems out there, how we really felt, in the hope that one person who feels the same knows that they aren’t alone.

I obviously have my blog, and this is a little ME part, to write and share my shit. I hope that others will too, this doesn’t have to be online for people to see, it can just be a scrap of paper that when you’re done you shred, a diary only for you, or a letter to a friend. But write and it will make you feel a world of difference. And remember, how little you think your shit is, if it is shit to you, it’s important! To give context to this, my Nanna visited her friend with breast cancer, and complained to her about her headache she had for days, then laughed saying I guess that’s nothing really; her friend turned to her and said, my breast cancer isn’t making your headache any less shit.

So my shit, my shit is that my father-in-law has cancer. The big C, that thing that now affects 1 in 2 people! That thing that, even knowing that statistic, would never affect someone I love. How could it, everyone I know is kind, loving, caring, why would it take someone like that. But guess what, it doesn’t care who you are, what you do, or what you are like. IT IS SHIT!

What makes this harder is it’s not my dad. Sounds crazy and backwards right!? But what I mean by this, isn’t that I wish it was my dad, but that I could ball my eyes out, I could refuse to do nothing, I could wallow (yes we all know it doesn’t help but sometimes you just need to!) because it’s my dad. This isn’t my dad, and I love him like family, but technically he’s not. And what I feel is only a fraction of what his children feel, what my stupidly strong boyfriend feels. And how can I compare to that. I feel like I have no right to be mad, to be upset, to cry. If they aren’t, why should I. Us Youngs are emotional folk, the Isards so much less so. We are chalk and cheese. But I dwell, I wonder how they all are, day in day out.

To top it off, my friends and family definitely don’t tell me their shit any more. Too worried to not over load me I think is their logic. But instead, this is even more isolating. You feel out the loop of more people that you care about. Then you feel like you shouldn’t share the less shit, (work, BF is annoying, you miss your family) because that then feels even more small and less important!

So I know I am not the only one in this boat, but it’s lonely, it’s isolating, it’s shit! But to all those other people in this boat with me, I’m here, whether we talk and share or sit quietly, we are in this together. I would like to say it gets better, but right now, I can’t say that, because I honestly don’t know.

Oh and one last thing – FUCK YOU CANCER! Donate to Stand Up To Cancer NOW! 🙂

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