When they ask, I tell people I’m fine.

I am.

Fine.

It’s not a choice. There is no option.

I didn’t wake up one morning and make a conscious decision that this is how I would feel this year.

It just is.

I wondered for a long time whether I was in denial.

About Chris’ diagnosis, about what my family is going through, about cancer.

Whether I was setting myself up for a future fall.

That we would get to November and then I would, crumble.

The thought often still crosses my mind.

Because every time someone asks me if I’m OK, I can answer honestly that I am.

I’m not just saying it to fill an awkward silence after a ‘How are you?’ *head tilt, pity face* question. No one really wants to hear that you’re not ok do they.

I’m saying it because in that exact moment they ask, that’s how I feel.

I wonder if there is something wrong with me.

Wonder why I am ok getting up and going to work as normal, why I’m not breaking down, why I don’t cry myself to sleep.

Because isn’t that what wives whose husbands have cancer and who have lost a leg do?

Wonder why I find it so easy to laugh, to talk, to remain positive, to have good times and make good memories.

To remain fairly, normal.

I wondered if it could mean I didn’t care.

Which was just a ridiculous thought to have.

I worry I am too positive, about the outcome, about getting to November. That I couldn’t see past the idea, the belief that everything would eventually be ok so everything that has happened and will happen this year seems, inconsequential.

It’s only recently that I have had days when I feel really,

Tired.

A little lost. Maybe.

Some days, especially when Chris is in hospital for chemo, I get to the end of the day fuzzy headed, with no idea of what happened and how it got to bedtime already.

Or Friday already.

Some days it feels like there is just so much to think about. That there is too much to juggle.

That time is getting away from me.

I have started to be aware of the tension, the weight that lies heavily has been less easy to ignore.

I thought some time from work would help but the mess with a routine seems to have sent me slightly off course.

Unable to concentrate, unable to focus.

Some days I just want the world to stop.

For a little while.

So I can catch my breath.

I keep moving forward because I have to.

Because I want to.

I keep moving forward because the only alternative is to give up, and I’m not about to do that am I!

I, we, have come so far.

I have not written this for pity or sympathy, I need or covet neither.

I am fine.

I do still laugh.

I am still positive

I am strong.

But I am tired.

That’s ok to admit.

Because we can be both at once.

And in spite of it I can keep moving forward.