Being alone in a room full of people

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There are times with my condition I have felt alone. Even when people were around me, even when I was busy, I would feel like I was going through it on my own. Sometimes I would find a quiet spot and listen to music. Very occasionally I would cry. I would do it furtively, as we all know men can’t cry.

Mostly I would smile and try and ignore it, and it would pass. I always think all things will pass in time.

Being alone, whether it is actual solitude, or just feeling isolated with people around, is tough. It’s not solely the preserve of this with cancer, or a serious condition. It’s much more widely spread than that. Anyone can feel alone.

Sometimes being alone us what you want. Sometimes you don’t want to talk. Sometimes you don’t want to think, and you try and sit quietly till it passes, distracting yourself with music or television. Whatever works.

Sometimes though you just want to have someone there with you, maybe not talking, but just being there.

The really stupid thing is you don’t necessarily know yourself which if the above it is. How do you cope with your loss, percieved or actual, and how do you go on going on. How do you make yourself decide to get up and do something? Especially when you can be so absolutely, completely and seemingly irrevicably tired. How do you get up for one more fight. For one more anything.

Often it’s the knowledge that others depend on you. Sometimes it knowing you have to to keep going. Having things to do can distract you.

I’ve had times when I’ve been that tired and despondant, but it’s not something we talk about in society. Not easily, not often. I’ve had a full day’s work, after God knows how many bad night’s sleep,. I’ve had stress from work, stress from kids, stress from the building works and then I had to come home and tidy up toys and get ready for the next day. It felt relentless. It felt endless. Then I sat upstairs and cried. I listened to music and I sobbed. I was just so tired. There was nothing else I could do, a wrung out dishcloth in an empty sink.

That’s what it can be like to feel alone. To feel so exhausted that you can’t go on. That. You. Just. Can’t. Do. Anymore.

I’ve been there. With cancer in my mind and no more energy to be had. With tears on my face. I know a lot of you have too. The other sufferers. From cancer, from other things. Maybe the death of a friend. Loss is the same in many forms. It’s basic. It’s horrible and it’s oh so human. When you get down to it, we all end up there at some point, but we never talk about it. Never address it. We see it as shameful.

Well I don’t want people with blood cancer to be ashamed of being alone. I don’t want them to cry from weariness and feel shame for that. I don’t want them to not know how to go on and who to turn to.

That’s really why I write this blog. Sure I get some pride out of it. Some knowledge that I am being positive about my own journey. It’s not that though. When the night is darkest, when you feel so alone and tired you wish you could just stop, sometimes it takes the knowledge someone else is going through it too to help you get on. And push for that one more day. One more action. To get up and not stop.

That’s why I write this and why I am raising money and trying to engage people. I’ve been there. I’ll be there again. And I can’t bear the thought of anyone going through what I have with no one to talk to, or read, or help.

Please give generously. It’s for a cause that could help people and if nothing else, if it gives them hope, then it’s worth all the effort.

It’s also why I couldn’t give two shits about the body wax. Do your worst. I’ve already been there.

https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/marcus-evans8

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