The Hand of Friendship

I don't like to attract attention. I'm the kind of person who is more content in sitting on the sidelines and observing than being the focal point. It isn't easy for me to put my writing out there for everyone to see, and it really isn't easy for me to talk about my problems. But, here we are.

My roommates last semester at the SLC light display

I have depression. It manifested itself last summer, though it came on so gradually that I can't really say for sure when it started. I've been working through it with a counselor since the beginning of September. This semester has been particularly difficult. My mood plummeted at the start of the year, and it stayed there for a really long time. I missed nearly 3 solid weeks of class because I simply couldn't get out of bed. I had this voice in my head that constantly weighed me down, telling me that I was worthless, that all of my friends were fake, that no one cared about me.

Luckily, things have started to get better. For the past week and a half, I've been taking medication which has helped balance things out. I still have my bad days, but now, at least, they are less frequent and more manageable. I have started to feel like myself again for the first time in several months.

What is Good About Cancer?

Mom, me, and Dad: Summer '13

You don't think about your dad passing away when you're 20 years old and engaged to be married.

I had always imagined dancing with him to a daddy-daughter song at my reception. I had imagined him playing with my kids and being their grandpa, giving them all the advice he's given me.

Life has a way of being unexpected.

What's Good About Cancer?

What’s good about cancer? I’ll tell you.

‘Tis something together we beat.

Though death comes to all and we never know when,

to conquer lung cancer’s a feat!

This sickness has brought us much closer.

Together we conquered the foe.

No matter what happens hereafter

this trophy forever will glow.

The struggle has helped prepare for the day

when gathered to fathers we’ll be

when we finish this race of mortality

more ready, courageous, and free."

My dad wrote this poem last fall when he heard that we had beat his lung cancer. Three months later, in December, his cancer was back, this time Stage 4, and incurable.