At the stage where my mind thinks I’m 26, my humour thinks I’m 12… and my body thinks I’m dead.

Seems I get a couple of weeks between chemo sessions when my brain isn’t overloaded with fuckery so I can be normal (ish).

I don’t feel the need to take a daily 6 hour nap and I have enough energy to hold a conversation for more than 3 minutes without yawning.

I look for joy in food… Don’t find much, but it’s a better feeling than wanting to puke at the thought.

So due to this unexpected lift of chemo fog, I’ve become curiously enlightened and found the answer to some therapeutic alleviation.

It consists of 3 simple ingredients: love, positive energy and a sprinkling of fucks. That’s it.

Number 1: No one needs a plethora of friends in order to be happy. A handful of beautiful diamonds is worth so much more than a 1000 bitchface cunts.

Surround yourself with the people who know your true value and vice versa.

If you find yourself free-falling and your people are just watching you fall… Then they simply aren’t your people. Stick with the ones who will catch you and not run away squawking.

Courage is contagious after all.

Number 2: Try and find something positive in every situation.

For instance, yesterday I fell off my bicycle whilst crossing the railway tracks and my first thought afterwards was ‘Wow, thank fuck there wasn’t a train coming.’

Chemo’s gruesome – but on the upside it’s destroying Bambi’s bellend bastard babies and it’s getting me back into my super skinny jeans (If you rolled your eyes at that you’re just jealous).

Number 3: Apparently having an expansive vocabulary of swear words is a sign of intelligence and may be beneficial to the mind and body.

Swearing is also proven to help with pain as the benefits include increased circulation, elevated endorphins, and an overall sense of feeling motherfucking fantastic.

And as Humpty Dumpty said “When I use a word, it means just what I choose it to mean – neither more nor less.”

There you have it. Possibly Betty Swollocks but seems to be working for me.

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4 thoughts on “At the stage where my mind thinks I’m 26, my humour thinks I’m 12… and my body thinks I’m dead.

  1. 💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

    Yes loved this blog

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Ok. Fuck the fuck of the fuck. Feels better already. Do what you like, as my grown up kids say to me, mockingly, all the time. By the way, Steve, my other half has started swearing at least as much of you, since the Referendum, and is very agitated. He says words like… c###, f###, b######, etc, all the time…..a bloody revelation! Love Jo xx Nags Head. ( that’s not me, it’s where I live😂)

    Sent from my iPad

    >

    Liked by 1 person

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