Lately, I’ve realized that I’m not necessarily tired of cancer. I’m tired of adjusting to it.
That probably sounds strange because cancer itself is obviously the bigger problem, but when I really stop and think about what has been wearing me down lately, it’s not one diagnosis, one treatment, one symptom, or one bad day. It’s the fact that every time I finally feel like I’ve figured out how to live with whatever is currently happening, something changes and I have to start over.
When I was first diagnosed, everything felt overwhelming because it was all new. New doctors, new terminology, new appointments, new fears. I assumed that was the hard part. I thought once I understood what was happening and settled into treatment, things would feel more manageable. In some ways they did. I learned the language. I learned how appointments worked. I learned what questions to ask. I learned how to navigate a world I never wanted to be part of in the first place.
Then treatment became its own adjustment.
I had to learn what fatigue felt like. Not regular tired, but treatment tired. I had to learn how to plan my life around side effects and recovery days. I had to learn that some mornings I would wake up with a long list of things I wanted to accomplish and a body that had absolutely no interest in cooperating. Eventually I figured that out too. Not because I wanted to, but because human beings are remarkably good at adapting when they don’t have much choice.
The problem is that just when I feel like I’ve adapted, the rules change again.
A medication changes. A symptom changes. A scan changes. A treatment plan changes. Something new gets added to the list. Something old stops working the way it used to. A problem gets solved and another one takes its place. It feels like I’m constantly unpacking boxes in a house I’m never allowed to fully move into. Every time I start to feel settled, life comes along and reminds me that this arrangement is temporary too.
I think that’s why the phrase “new normal” has started to annoy me. People mean well when they say it, and I’ve probably said it myself more than once, but my experience has been that there is no such thing. There is just the current version of normal. The normal where I’m dealing with one set of medications until it becomes the normal where I’m dealing with another. The normal where I’m worried about one thing until something else demands my attention. Every normal I’ve been handed has come with an expiration date.
What makes it particularly exhausting is that adjusting isn’t something you can schedule. It isn’t an appointment you go to and then check off your list. It’s mental work. It’s emotional work. It’s learning how to fit a new reality into the life you were already trying to live. Every change requires you to rearrange something. Sometimes it’s your schedule. Sometimes it’s your expectations. Sometimes it’s your plans for the future. Sometimes it’s your relationship with your own body.
I don’t think people realize how much energy that takes.
They see the treatment. They see the scans. They see the appointments. Those things are visible. The constant recalculating isn’t. Nobody sees the mental gymnastics involved in figuring out what your body can handle this week versus last week. Nobody sees the quiet disappointment of finally finding a routine that works only to have it disrupted again. Nobody sees how tiring it is to repeatedly become a beginner at your own life.
And the thing is, I know this is part of it. I know cancer is unpredictable. I know treatment plans evolve. I know doctors make changes because they’re trying to help me. None of that is lost on me. This isn’t a complaint about medicine or my care team or the people trying to keep me alive. It’s just an honest admission that constantly adapting is hard. It’s hard when you’re healthy, and it’s even harder when you’re already carrying the physical and emotional weight of everything else.
Maybe that’s why I’ve felt so frustrated lately. Not because of one specific thing, but because I’m tired of rebuilding my footing. Tired of learning new rules. Tired of convincing myself I’ve finally gotten the hang of something only to discover the lesson has changed again.
I wish I had some neat conclusion for this. I wish I could tell you I’ve figured out how to become endlessly flexible or that I’ve found some secret way to embrace change with grace and gratitude. The truth is much less impressive. Some days I handle it well. Some days I don’t. Some days I adapt quickly and move on. Other days I sit in my kitchen drinking a Diet Coke and wonder if life could just stay the same for five minutes.
I don’t think that’s weakness. I think it’s human.
Because no matter how resilient someone is, eventually they’re allowed to admit they’re tired of adjusting.
Thank You for Reading
Thank you for reading Mojo & The Mess.
If you’re new here, this blog is where I share the reality of living with cancer, grief, chronic illness, and all the messy parts of life that don’t always fit into a social media post. Some days it’s heavy. Some days it’s funny. Most days it’s a little bit of both.
The Home Page is where you’ll find my latest blogs and updates. The Resources page contains information and support for patients, caregivers, and families navigating cancer and chronic illness. And if you’d like to help support the work that goes into this space, you can visit the Keep Mojo & The Mess Going page.
Whether you’ve been here from the beginning or just found your way here today, thank you for reading, sharing, commenting, and reminding me that none of us are carrying this stuff completely alone.
Love,
Izzy & Mojo
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