Another post about emotions.

I don't know if anyone has seen the Louis C.K. rant on Conen (just so you know it is kind of crude in a Louis C.K. kind of way) last week about cell phones and technology but it really resonated with me as I have spent the last few weeks using technology as a way to avoid all emotions. His rant was basically that we all use technology now as a way to avoid emotions and that we don't let ourselves feel truly sad anymore as we always have a distraction.

That is basically what I have been doing for the past month. I always have the radio or a TV show on during the day and then listen to a podcast as I fall asleep (they usually help, except one CBC one about talking to families when a loved one dies). Technology helps me block out over thinking everything in my mind but it has also reached the point where it has blocked out dealing with my emotions. The only times my emotions become overwhelming is usually in the shower because I have time to think and overthink.

So with that in mind, I spent last night sitting outside watching the sunset and had a good cry about everything that is happening.

Honestly, I am freaked out about moving. Let me clarify, it is not the actual moving part that freaks me out, I can handle living in a large city without any close friends as I have been doing that for the last year and half (the friends thing, not the big city bit). Sure, it will be hard not to be able to go visit my friends on weekends when I am feeling lonely but that is why I have unlimited texting.

The part about moving that freaks me out is what it represents. It means that the lung transplant is becoming less of an abstract idea and more of an actual reality. It means that I am going to be living in Toronto just waiting for the call which could happen at any moment. It also means that I am that much closer to having a surgery where 2 in 10 people die within the first year.

I am not even necessarily freaked out about the actual surgery. Sure, having tubes down my throat, being hopped up on morphine, and having a catheter doesn't sound particularly enjoyable. However, I am incredibly confident about my ability to work my ass off in recovery. My struggle comes with the fact that not everyone gets the chance to recover. Or just because you are determined as hell to do everything the physiotherapist wants, doesn't mean that your body is going to let you. Determination doesn't matter if your body is rejecting your lungs. That helplessness and it being out of my control is what scares me the most. I don't want to die from lung failure. I want more time.

*sigh* Emotions are the worst.

I know I need to take it one day at a time and try not to worry about the future and cross the bridges as they appear. That is so much easier said than done.  So until I figure how not to think about the future, I will continue to let Bob McDonald lull me asleep discussing about the latest dinosaur discovery but I will try to let myself have a break from distraction every once in awhile and let myself cry at a few more sunsets. Because it really is better to truly feel and acknowledge the emotions rather than try to continue to push them aside.