Being Bisexual

According to Merriam-Webster, the definition of bisexuality is being “sexually attracted to both men and women.” A straightforward definition it would seem. Unfortunately the reason I am writing this bloody post is because so many people don’t understand my sexuality. I am frequently asked questions like “Are you sure?” and “Maybe you should think about it again?” Sound lads, but remember back when I was the tender age of fourteen and I bravely came out? Yeah? I HAD ALREADY THOUGHT ABOUT IT AND I WAS SURE. But thank you for your ongoing concern.

The problem that has led me to writing this post is not a personal one. Having said that, this is a personal blog so yes of course I will be referring to myself throughout (as I always do). The real problem here is the misconception of bisexuality alongside homosexuality and heterosexuality. Basically, everyone knows the difference between gay and straight, but how many people stop to think about the alternative? Do we honestly even appreciate that bisexuality does exist? If we don’t we’re simply fooling ourselves. Of course it exists. It’s not like Santa Claus where it exists for a few years and then poof, gone. And it is certainly not “just going through a phase.”

As the definition above does not state, bisexuality isn’t a case of being attracted to both men and women equally. So for those of you that think “Oh, she likes girls more so she’s a lesbian,” go get a fucking dictionary. As bisexual activist Robyn Ochs put it, “bisexuality is the potential to be attracted – romantically and/or sexually – to people of more than one sex and/or gender, not necessarily at the same time, not necessarily in the same way, and not necessarily to the same degree."

With that said, I am very much aware of how curiosity leads to people tossing the label around like an old hat. I have encountered many individuals who have said to me “Olivia, I think I’m bi.” Turns out most of them were either experimenting or thought it was cool to be bisexual. A lot of people who identify as bisexual do end up coming out as gay/straight in the future, and I’m certainly not denying that. Many people also identify as bisexual because they think bisexuality doesn’t get as much stick as homosexuality. “No, no I’m still half straight” – you’re still gonna get abuse, hun.

In fact, bisexuals face even more abuse than homosexuals. Believe it or not, bisexuality is not accepted as a legit sexuality by many (not all) gays and lesbians. They believe bisexuality to be a compromise of their sexuality. This hostility is not as prominent in recent times, what with the LGBT community rallying together in the fight for equality, and all that jazz. I believe that underneath the surface, however, that hostility still remains.

For many people bisexuality comes as a hard concept to grasp. How is it possible to like both sexes? How do you decide when you want which? The thing is, drumroll please… you don’t. It’s kind of like when you go to a buffet and you’re not sure whether you want the steak or the chicken. Then you go to the counter and see the steak and the chicken next to each other and you’re like “Yeah, I fancy a nice bit of steak tonight.” But at the same time you wouldn’t say no to the chicken either. Get me? What I’m trying to say in a roundabout way is that the attraction depends on who the person is, what their physical appearance is like, and whether or not they’re actually available. Sounds fairly heterosexual doesn’t it?

Somewhat of a pet peeve of mine is peoples’ tendency to use the term “lesbian” to define my sexuality. How kind of you to recognise that I like girls but hey, guess what? Men have a shot with me too! The funny thing is I always joke about my sexuality. I actually have an example from two nights ago. We were all having a few drinks in the house Tuesday evening and I wandered over to the sofa, only to find three lads lying on the ground together. Without even thinking about it I shouted “HEY! I’m the only one allowed to be in same-sex relationships in this house. I’m going to heterosexual it up here.” And so I proceeded to lie across the three of them, in the most non-sexual way possible might I add.

However it becomes a whole other ball game when someone else changes my sexuality. Either get it right or don’t mention it at all. I watched an episode of The Big Bang Theory the other day and in the episode Leonard and Penny get goo all over Sheldon’s seat on the sofa. Howard thought he could help by swapping Raj’s seat with Sheldon’s and he exclaimed “Problem solved.” To which Sheldon replied “If your head had been accidentally amputated, and we transplanted a dog’s head in its place, would that be ‘problem solved’?” Slight exaggeration but that’s pretty much my view when people refer to bisexuals as gay/lesbian.

Even though without reading back I’m sure a lot of this is me going off on a tangent, I hope you can understand the problem here and how it should be addressed. Bisexuality is not a joke, nor is it a reason to make a sexual object out of someone. We all need to show more respect to those who identify as bisexual and to not always try to gently guide them down the path of gay or straight. If you still don’t understand bisexuality, then it is not up to you how a bisexual should or should not act. Bear that in mind next time you try to persuade someone that their sexuality is imaginary.

Oh look, a poem.

A flash of all the memories,

A strike of pain inside,

Just like the wave that hits the sand

And rips it out with the tide.

A broken mind and twisted heart,

A knife right through my spine,

Self-inflicted, as it were;

An accidental suicide.

All is but diminished,

All black, and white, and grey,

A lifeless painting of my world;

A dark and empty space.

The void that only one can fill

Hurts more with every day,

Every day it grows in size

And swallows me like its prey.

So take me to the beach again,

And show me to the sea,

Let me feel you let me go;

Let the waves crash on me.

When Friends Become Frenemies

It’s been a long time coming. To be exact, it’s been two and a bit years coming, this post of mine. Although the idea came to me midway through transition year, the expression of this idea at the right time has been difficult to realise. In my six years of secondary school I have come across many “false” friends, for want of a better word. Friends who have betrayed my trust, humiliated me or simply rubbed me up the wrong way. It is to these “friends” that this post is dedicated.

To begin with, one must pose the question: how is a frenemy identified? Let me assure you, it’s not always obvious at the start. In my case, there were two prominent instances where I felt alienated by friends. First of all were the inappropriate jokes and remarks that were being launched in my direction. It’s one thing to engage in playful, harmless mockery in the company of only a few people, but to throw offensive remarks across a room full of people is a whole other ball game. A friend does not degrade you in front of your peers and colleagues to appear the joker – a frenemy does.

Not only are frenemies willing to bash your self-esteem, they are also prone to severe bouts of jealousy. Competitiveness is a clear indication that you are dealing with a frenemy. If a friend is reluctant to congratulate you on an achievement, regardless of its importance, then they are not a real friend. An attempt to quench the flame of your success is a nasty showcase of how begrudging a person can be to another. If you announce to your friends that you’ve won an award and the only response they can muster up is “cool,” you’ve found yourself a frenemy.

Another little thing that made me realise what I had on my hands was the way in which the daily conversations would flow. In friendships, communication is a two-way thing. Therefore it is needless to say that a friendship cannot blossom if one person is dictating the conversation. It really is a game of give and take. Give some information, take in some information. Pretty straightforward, right? Not for a frenemy. A frenemy is so self-absorbed that they will manipulate and control a conversation so that it revolves entirely around themselves. No matter how uninterested you are in their story of their uncle’s wife’s cat’s diet, you will have no choice but to listen. Any attempts you make to contribute to the chat will immediately be shot down. If you see an empty desk at lunchtime be worried – a frenemy doesn’t stop to catch breath.

Perhaps the most frightening trait of a frenemy is their ability to isolate people with the click of a finger. One day you could be conversing (or should I say they converse whilst you listen), the next you could be sat on your own pondering why it is you have been abandoned. Frenemies are all about status and power. If you can no longer supply them with either of these necessities, they bid you farewell. A frenemy thrives on being the dominant voice and any challenge made to this dominance is not tolerated. For example, if I was to share a differing opinion on a matter, the frenemy in question would, without hesitation make a statement undermining everything I had just said. Typical frenemy behaviour.

Once a frenemy is recognised, the next problem is how do you deal with the frenemy. There are numerous approaches one could take to combat frenemies but since this is my blog after all, I’m going to discuss the two which I, personally have taken. The first thing I tried was confrontation. By that I do not mean telling them to meet me in the parking lot at 5pm. By confrontation I mean telling them straight out that I have an issue with how they have been treating me. For many frenemies, this sort of a blunt statement may shock them out of their wicked ways. Unfortunately in my case I was not so lucky. Which leads me on to approach number two: disassociate yourself from the person. If they cannot acknowledge their own faults then they are too far gone to bother trying any further. Some people try to be a frenemy; others simply take to it like a boat to water.

People may say that I made the wrong decision by disassociating myself from my frenemies. However, it was not a decision I made overnight. No, this decision was made over months of tolerance and efforts to keep peace within myself and with others. Looking back I couldn’t be more content with my actions and the approach I took. Confidence and the belief that you are doing what’s best for you are key in breaking free from the clutches of a frenemy. Sometimes that inner self-belief may be hard to recognise after a battering by a frenemy. One piece of advice I can give is to avoid getting sucked in. If you begin to accept the dominance, you will lose yourself somewhere along the line. You will lose sight of how you deserve to be treated in comparison to the way you are currently being treated. Worst case scenario: you become the frenemy.

I’m sure my own frenemies will be dissecting this post in the hope of finding some evidence that it is fact I that is the frenemy. In that case, this post has served its purpose. If you are trying to find evidence that I have mentioned you in a post about frenemies then this post has been a success already. Admission is the first step to recovery, eh?

Love Garners Brutal Treatment in Russia

For the majority you in this room, I would imagine the topic of my concern is something you would never have considered problematic enough to be worthy of your attention. And can I really blame you? Since the onset of the recession and the global economic downturn, you have seen your people suffer relentlessly for over six years. You have witnessed First World families living in Third World conditions. You have had hundreds of other problems that have been deemed more important than the one I am vouching for today. This issue has baptised many of you as procrastinators, yet now it can no longer be simply put off. Now I’m going to show you why homophobic discrimination can no longer be tolerated and why it is we must take action sooner rather than later.

When we cast our minds to homophobic violence, what country do we immediately think of? Yes, Russia. Since President Putin released a statement on January 17^th announcing that gays would be permitted to attend the 2014 Winter Olympics in Sochi provided they “leave the children in peace”, the outcry in the country has been phenomenal. LGBT activists in Russia are outraged at such a remark being made, and I don’t blame them. Suggesting that a person’s sexual orientation determines whether they are a paedophile or not is something I cannot quite fathom. Boycotting the games, which begin February 7^th, was the immediate response formulated by LGBT groups across Russia but it was then reconsidered as the careers of many of the athletes would be hampered with. Isn’t it ironic that a community that has been socially hung by its own government decided against a decision that would violate the rights of a minority of people?

As most of you already know (or should know) it is illegal to be openly homosexual in Russia. Wait, that’s not how I ought to phrase it. Phrasing it like that would imply Russia is a bigoted, discriminating world power. How could I possibly imply such a thing? As the leaders of the country have put it, there is no problem with being gay as long as you stay in the closet and suppress your true identity. Does that sound any better? I didn’t think so. In Russia it is illegal to be seen promoting LGBT by any means of propaganda. Simply holding a rainbow flag warrants arrest in this country. Any sort of campaign or protest to regain their rights is prohibited and, you guessed it, warrants arrest. How can we watch as innocent people are detained and treated as inferior beings every day because of who they love?

In many ways the Russian Orthodox Church, of who over 70% of the country’s population belongs to, is largely responsible for this stigmatism and intolerance. The church openly believes and teaches that anything other than a male-female relationship is unnatural. They firmly believe that homosexuals are born heterosexual (straight) and merely choose to be gay. They don’t and won’t accept that a person’s sexuality is not a decision one could ever consciously make. Due to these religious beliefs, many Russians have no problem watching innocent LGBT people being brutally and maliciously attacked on the main streets of towns and cities in broad daylight. In fact, these vigilante groups that carry out the attacks are graciously welcomed by the majority of people as saviours working for the good of the nation. The attacks are seen as “social cleansing.” In reality, though, they’re more like the police of Birmingham, Alabama in 1963 who unleashed vicious dogs and high-pressure fire hoses on the black community as they fought for their rights. It’s a shame Russia doesn’t have a modern day, homosexual Martin Luther King leading them to a reformed society.

It’s hard to believe that in 2014, with gay marriage now legal in so many countries, we have a nation that is so rigid in its customs and beliefs that it allows the murder of thousands to take place right under its nose and does nothing to prevent such atrocities. The suicide rate amongst young LGBT people in Russia has catapulted within recent years and I can’t say I’m surprised. YouTube is full of videos of vindictive groups of men attacking and abusing young people if they are thought to be homosexual. It is believed that pouring urine over the person’s head cures them of the “disease” and if that does not work, an even more severe beating is in store next time around. Since the passing of the anti-gay propaganda law in June 2013, seven suicides have been linked to homophobic intolerance in Russia. The law made it illegal for teachers, parents and psychologists to speak to children under the age of eighteen about LGBT issues, and this undoubtedly has caused problems amongst the LGBT youth of Russia. For example, if a sixteen year old boy is questioning his sexuality, he has no-one he can turn to for advice or support. This law was passed supposedly to protect children, yet ironically it is leading to more teenage deaths. Go figure.

The violence against the LGBT community has escalated to such an extent that they have set up self-defence classes in the suburbs of cities to learn how to protect themselves. One does not have to be engaged in homosexual activity to be attacked on the streets or followed home at night. No provocation is needed to become a target of these vigilante groups. Worse again, these murders are actually recognised by the Russian government as, and I quote, “Civil movements fighting the sins of society.” This law which officially banned non-traditional sexual relations is destroying the lives of thousands of citizens in Russia. In one case, two men were peacefully living together in Moscow, in no way showcasing their sexuality. One of the men’s family, however, turned the man’s partner in to the nationalists and he was taken away to be murdered. Can any of you imagine your own spouse being savagely killed and your whole life being uprooted? How would you react? Because in Russia silence is the only option for the victims’ families. The murders are not recorded or investigated and the community must accept this as law. Would you be so tolerant in your own lives?

I’m by no means suggesting that Russia is the sole nation discriminating relentlessly against the LGBT community. However, with the Sochi Winter Olympics just around the corner and with the threat of riots looming over the games, I strongly believe action should be taken immediately to ensure the safety of not only the LGBTs, but of everyone attending. There have already been two suicide bomber attacks recently in Russia which have devastated the country, and we must not let another occur. Then again, isn’t the similarity of the suicide bombers’ killings and the suicides caused by the Russian government’s policy towards LGBTs uncanny? Just a thought.

Looks Can Be Deceiving

How many people does each of us walk past every day, do you think? I certainly don’t know. Let’s be more specific so, how many people does each of us walk past every day in our respective workplaces? In my case, I walk past hundreds of girls in blue uniforms, unfamiliar faces that mean nothing to me, nor should they. It’s not my business to know their business; in fact it would be rather intrusive of me if I did. Sometimes though, these faces reveal a lot more to me than they probably intend to. I see faces trying to hide secrets by blending in with the crowd, and for the most part they succeed in doing so.

How many of us have walked past someone and immediately thought “She’s not okay” or “There’s something wrong with him.” It’s very easy to look at someone we don’t know and identify their problems because we know we won’t actually have to confront them about it. Yet when it comes to those closest to us, we are prone to handing their problems an invisibility cloak and looking the other way.

“Sure give it a few days and they’ll be fine.” Oh how I loathe this expression. It’s almost as if we give people the benefit of the doubt, as if we could most definitely be a source of support if it was necessary. As if our care is too sacred to be wasted on someone that doesn’t hold the required credentials. We like to imagine that people with issues magically resolve them by being left on their own to pick up the pieces of their shattered world. “A bit of space is what they need, that’s all.” Sound familiar? Is it perhaps something you may have whispered in the past? Now I’m not trying to pin everything on us that make little effort to involve ourselves in the lives of others, oh no. I mean, it’s obvious that this is just a matter of confidence. We feel inadequate as foundations of insight and support, and we firmly believe that we will in no way, shape or form be able to assist this person in their recovery. What most of us don’t realise, however, is that any form of support can make the greatest of impacts.

Take my story, for example. During my darkest hours I had but two friends that never once treated me any differently to before I started losing control of my life. One of those girls helped me by only ever allowing me to briefly discuss my worries with her before quickly changing the subject to something she knew would make me smile (HSM songs). The other friend aided me in my recovery by never once questioning my actions, she just listened. It was rare for either of those girls to ever respond with prodigious words of wisdom, but they were there for me every day when I was invisible to everyone else.

Neither of those girls gave me lifelong advice that have stuck with me to this day and that I can recite to you now, in fact they didn’t even know how to reply to some of the things I told them. What those girls did for me though was far greater than any of that. They made me feel safe. They reminded me that I wasn’t going through it alone. They may not have said it upfront to me (they weren’t the kind) but I knew they cared. Knowing that alone gave me the strength not to give up on myself. They may not have given me the help I had been longing and hoping for, but they ensured I never gave up searching for it. And that’s more than I could’ve ever asked of them.

I don’t think we realise just how much of an impact we each can make by simply asking someone how they are. As a matter of fact, it is so rare for someone to ask us how we are that we should not be so foolish as to answer “I’m fine” if we’re clearly not fine. What does “I’m fine” even mean these days? Does it mean “I appreciate the effort you have made but I shan’t put you under any further stress by enlightening you as to how I really feel.” Ah yes, and then the concerned friend (that’s us) responds with “Are you sure?” translating as “Am I really off the hook?” with the straightforward answer being “Yes.” Why all the pretence? I wish someone had asked me how I was three years ago… “Actually I fell asleep crying last night and I think I’m suffering from depression.” Respond to that one, bitch.

I’ve sworn to myself that if any person ever comes to me with a problem I will do my utmost to be there for them. I made this decision because I know first-hand what it’s like to sit at home wishing that the phone would vibrate or the doorbell would ring. I have spent hours sitting on the floor of my bedroom looking into the mirror, enjoying imaginary conversations I hoped would someday take place, which in reality never did. I used to pretend to host a sort of talk show where I was interviewing myself, allowing myself the opportunity I was never given to tell my side of the story. At that age I assumed this was how every person dealt with their problems – on their own. I was too young to know that I deserved support. My peers were also too young and too blissfully unaware to even consider being that support. And so I tried my level best to put on a brave face and get on with things. To a certain extend I succeeded in doing so as many may not have fully understood my story until I set up this blog. I became a face in the crowd trying to hide my secrets by blending in, and it worked.

This is why I can easily pick out those people that I pass each day that have a thousand things flowing through their mind. It shows, it really does. Cracks begin to appear and before long your deepest thoughts are smeared across your smile for everyone to see. To be fair, the majority of people utilising this coping method get away with it. But this is not because of how they have mastered the art of deceiving, it’s because we, the onlookers, only see the person. We see them, we don’t look at them.

If we were all just that bit more aware of those around us maybe we could be the difference between giving up and getting up. Maybe, just maybe we could save someone. When we start to ignore a person’s problem, they follow suit and before we have time to reconsider it, the problem has escalated to heights it should never have reached.

If we could step outside our comfort zone for a brief moment we could make a difference we never imagined possible. But are we still too afraid of the unknown depths of a person’s mind to take that step? I believe we are. In fact, I don’t think we’ll ever willingly be so selfless as to offer up our support knowing we are not benefitting from it. Or are we? I know the answer to that, yet I’m positive some of you never will. So go on, now is your chance to shut me up. Take that step. Prove me wrong, I dare you.

Wrapping Up 2013 With a Splash of Gratitude

With 2013 wrapping up nicely in just a few short hours I have dragged myself away from the food and festivities for a moment to reflect on the year. And what a year it has been. From extreme highs to not-so-low lows, 2013 has been one massive steamroller of successes for me. I came within touching distance of my idols, realised the career I wish to pursue, made a decision to give up on a goal that was no longer sought after and most of all, I made thousands of precious memories.

Because that’s what it’s all really about, isn’t it? The memories. Funnily enough,  it’s not the things I did this year that come to mind upon reflection, more so the people that were by my side through it all. So this one is for them. A sort of thank you, if you like. A token of my appreciation. You made my year fabulous, now sit back and gloat to your hearts’ content as I show you why.

To my family ~

Now, there are quite a lot of you so I won’t be naming any names here. This is to all of you. Firstly, the Dawson side. I’d like to thank those of you that were so kind to have hosted parties this year which I was invited to; they were very enjoyable. Seeing the whole family together is an extremely rare happening and one which I cherish dearly. Nothing tops a family reunion to celebrate the birth of a loved one (or in our family’s case, the free alcohol). I wish to apologise if my beautiful face has been missed in Westport, as I have not been able to pay as many visits this year as I would’ve liked. Summer was hectic, with work taking up the majority of my time and the need for a social life a close second. I wish to see more of you wonderful people in the coming months.

As for the local fam, quite frankly I see you all too often and this will have to cease. Of course I’m joking; it’s rather lovely having you lot three minutes down the road. Christmas Day wouldn’t have been the same had I not been in your presence. Two brief specific mentions: Conor, I have missed you. Eoin, congrats on the new blog, welcome to the clan. I shall now promote it here à http://braidedineoin.blogspot.ie/

To my friends ~

In case anyone feels they have the right to include themselves in this restricted category let me make it clear – this is to the Lissivigeeners. Yes, we have named ourselves and yes it feels a bit odd sharing it publically but no I am not ashamed. There are around eight or nine of you that have filled this year with laughter and life. I am very appreciative of all of you and I want to take this opportunity to thank you for accepting me for who I am – a townie. I may have been born in Woodlawn but I was bred here amongst you wild culchies and that has shaped who I am today. I would be lost without all of you. Especially on a night out when we hit the town in numbers and I can always rely on one of you being somewhere in Mustangs. I love that our friendships were sown at the river and have blossomed this summer as we made our way slowly but surely into K-Town. I am blessed to be a part of such a welcoming, accepting bunch of alcohol… amigos. I look forward to many more memories being made with you all this year.

To my girl ~

What can I say? Another year comes to an end with you by my side. Who would’ve thought it, eh? We’ve come through so much this year and we’re stronger than ever. You’re my rock but you already know that. I just want all of these other people to know that too. Other people, I wouldn’t have a blog if it wasn’t for this girl! You’ve made this year perfect for me. When I think back, all of the best days I’ve had were with you. We have so many incredible memories to take from 2013 and I’m not going to attempt to list them all because I couldn’t. There are far too many. You know and I know, that’s the most important thing. I’m so happy you’re going to be here with me to ring in the New Year. A year ago we promised we’d be together for it and we’ve kept that promise.

Trust me, I know how lucky I am to have you in my life and to be quite honest, it still puzzles me as to why you came so willingly into it. I wish I could say “the day I first met you” but that wouldn’t be entirely true as I probably didn’t even know your name that day, so I’ll stick to the truth. The day I got your BBM pin was the day I really started to live. I wanted to live. I had been given a reason to live. Since then you’ve changed my life completely and given me something no-one else ever has – great fashion advice. I’m kidding, you’ve given me your heart and I swear to God I’ll owe you forever for that. I’ve tried to keep this soft side of me hush hush from everyone for quite some time now but with this clear admission of emotions, I have caved. I love you; always have, always will. Let’s start 2014 as we hope to end it – together.

 So that’s it, my final post of 2013 has come to an end. I asked of myself this time last year would I still be writing in a year’s time and the answer is of course yes. I have plenty more words of wisdom I would like to share with you all, though they will certainly be dispersed throughout the year (Leaving Cert and all that jazz). For now though, I’d like to say farewell to this year of blogging and wish you all a very happy and healthy New Year.

See you tonight, alcos. 

My Greatest Fear

For those of you that have been so kind as to read this, you may be expecting a typically clichéd fear. You know spiders, insects, height, et cetera. It would seem fitting to write about such topics with the 2013 series of ‘I’m a Celebrity’ having just drawn to a close. However, my fear is not something you can see, as such. It’s far greater than a dread of flying or being terrorised by crocodiles. This fear of mine is not one that I will ever be able to conquer in my lifetime I should assume, nor do I ever wish to have that opportunity. So here it is, my deepest secret revealed. What’s my greatest fear? Cancer.

It has occurred to me in recent weeks that this disease has claimed the lives of three of the four relatives whose funerals I have attended. The first of which was my grandfather who died when I was eight years old. My ambiguous recollection of him leaves but one clear image in my mind: him and his pipe. I guess you could assume it caught up on him. In the past six months I have lost another two relatives at the hands of cancer. They say it can be hereditary and that worries me. The thought of dying old gracefully does not scare me, but one mention of chemotherapy or finding a lump and I freak.

Cancer is so commercialised these days that it’s almost become the norm. Any successful soap will at some stage have incorporated cancer into its storyline and chosen a character to deal with the incurring predicament they are faced with. But how can any actor, no matter how talented, portray realistically the emotions of a cancer victim? Unless they have previously battled the disease and know first-hand what it entails I find it hard to see any such performance as plausible. Plus, what person in their right mind would agree to pretend to have cancer after going through that traumatic ordeal already? I would imagine once is more than enough.

It frustrates me that there is yet to be a certain, verified, official cure for cancer. I accept that there are different treatments available and that not all cancers are terminal but what I can’t accept is this seemingly worldwide belief that this disease will forever be irrepressible. How is it possible that we have sent people to the moon and yet we have not made a definite discovery in the area of carcinogens?  People are employed globally to work full-time towards finding this long-awaited cure yet they never prevail. To say I am angry would be an understatement and to suggest that I am afraid of becoming ill makes little of my turmoil. I need there to be some finding, some revelation that will ease my worries. In reality I will never awake to such news. What I can guarantee, though, is that I will attend many more funerals of fatalities of this disease and it could one day even be the foundation of my own.

I am not so much afraid of being diagnosed myself as I am of others nearest to me receiving such news. To even consider any of my loved ones being diagnosed brings about an overwhelming sensation of numbness. How would I cope with such news? No words could describe it. I would break in that moment, my whole world would shatter into a thousand jagged fragments and that would be it. No more would become of me. I see programmes on TV where people have been told they have three months to live and they step outside, guns a blazing, ready to make the most of what time they have left. The strength that must take is beyond my comprehension. I know personally that I could never show such courage. But, dare I say it, perhaps that is one positive which can be taken from such a life-altering experience. You learn to appreciate life for what it is, not what it might be or what it could’ve been. Cancer does not have time for “what ifs”. Cancer does not wait around until you feel you are ready to say goodbye. You can rely solely on what the doctor said but at the end of the day, unless this doctor can see into the future or is in fact God Himself, I would strongly advise against predictions. Doctors told my family that my uncle, who died Thursday last, had but a few weeks to live. That was five years ago.

I guess my reasoning behind this post is that I want to get people to be more appreciative of what they have and what they don’t have. Cancer is not restricted to any one age group or type of person. Just because you smoke doesn’t mean you’re going to get cancer. But at the same time, just because you eat well and look after yourself doesn’t make you immune either. My uncle was what you could consider a grade A human being. He ate well, kept extremely fit, didn’t smoke, didn’t drink, and went for regular check-ups… Cancer spread all over his body and all he could put it down to was chance. What was the chance he’d be diagnosed with cancer? What was the chance he’d fight the battle for over five years? And what was the chance that after five years of waiting his death would still cause so much heartache?

Like I’ve said, cancer is unpredictable. It’s a disease which will loom over each of our existences for as long as we will live. The only time we will truly have defied cancer is when we die; how ironic. Don’t wait until the news gets in that you have been affected by this disease. Do something about it now. Visit a relative, say a prayer, for God’s sake even write a blog post. Just don’t let it creep up on you like it has done to me. I can assure you that none of us will escape the wrath of cancer. No-one is that lucky, regardless of what the doctor says.