I stood in a shadowy section of the car park and cried. It was dark and I felt safely hidden by the trees and the lighting. Enmore Design Centre Car park is quite lovely, I hadn’t been there before. I took a short cut on my way home. As I entered the top gate I felt a wave rise through my body. I tried to suppress it but my breathing changed and I heaved. The sobs rose with such force. But like they came from nowhere. Overwhelming me. I had to stop. I had to find a place to hide, to cry.
Alone. I felt so a. lone. So scared. Terrified to my core. I wished so much that I believed in something. A higher being. A god. The Universe. Anything. It must provide such salvation for people. Being able to transfer that fear on to an outside energy. Hand over your pain, your fear, your doubt. Put hope out there, thinking you are being heard. Feeling you’re protected.
But I don’t. Even raised as a Buddhist, I don’t even believe in reincarnation. I’ve always said to my son when he asked about Church or God that we don’t need to believe in an outside force, we just need to believe in ourselves.
But I don’t even believe in myself right now. My intuition is scattered. I feel no grounding. I’ve been here before. I hate it.
Telling a cancer survivor not to worry just doesn’t cut it. The fear that surged through my body when I felt that lump on my leg the other day can’t be suppressed. Or silenced. Or rationalised. 15 years ago I felt lumps in my neck and my bravado kept me going. ‘I’m so young, it’s not possible.’ ‘I’m healthy and happy.’ I was wrong.
Waiting to do a scan isn’t eased with the words ‘try not to stress about it, it could be nothing.’ Because I thought that once. And I was wrong.
I crouched down in to the shadows. My gut felt tight, my jaw clenched and I kept crying. I don’t want to be sick again. I don’t want to face my mortality. I just want to be in denial like everyone else.