“I’m fine. It’s just that life is pointless and nothing matters and I’m always tired. Also, I can’t sleep, I’m overeating, none of my old hobbies interest me.” - Sir Andy Dwyer

When I worked in the wildlife rehab center at work, I would reach a point every summer that I called Stress Nirvana. 

As spring approaches each year, wildlife rehab centers brace for baby season, when they will be inundated with not only a large amount of regular broken wildlife but also tiny orphaned baby wildlife of all manner of species. 

Because I used to be the volunteer manager at the wildlife rehab center, I was responsible for finding volunteers for baby season. In case you don’t know, being a wildlife volunteer is hardcore. You don’t get all the fuzzy feelings you do when you volunteer with dogs and cats, because wildlife wants to run from you, fight you, or eat you. Also everything poops (or barfs) on you and the variety of poop (and barf) varies by species. Also, it smells. Because of all the poop and barf. 

But also sometimes you get to do things like weigh ducklings and feed baby squirrels, which I think makes up for it. 

All of this work requires a lot of help, so most of my job was making sure we had the help we needed. Rehab centers would not be able to function without volunteers (there are just too many animals), and no matter how many volunteers I found, we would usually reach a point each summer when, despite all the preparation and work and worry, we’d be short on help and I’d FREAK OUT trying to figure out how to get more. 

Eventually, usually sometime around July, all of the stress would get to be too much and I’d reach a point I’d call Stress Nirvana, where I’d stop worrying and get all easy breezy and say things like “things will work out” even though I didn’t know how that was going to happen. And things might not have always been perfect but they did work out, mostly because volunteers are amazing and would save us every time. (There’s a lesson in here somewhere about not worrying about things outside of your control, but I’m too tired to find it.)

I spent all of last week joking about how I must have entered Stress Nirvana again, because even though I had my super stressful CT scan and even though the results were positive and my scans came back clear, I felt...nothing. I was numb and unworried in the days leading up to the scan. I wasn’t nervous on the day of the scan. I couldn’t even work up any anger when I realized the scan results weren’t ready at the time of my follow up appointment and we had to wait until the next morning to get them. 

I didn’t feel anything when the doctor finally called with the results. I didn’t feel anything when I told people. I didn’t feel anything, horrifyingly, every time someone expressed happiness that I was no longer actively dying. Every time I assured someone that, “yes, of course, I’m so happy and relieved,” I felt like a liar. Like I was broken.  

“What’s wrong with me?” I kept wondering. “Why am I not ecstatic right now?”

I know the Stress Nirvana thing started out as a joke but I do think it’s just another way of saying I have burnout. I’ve always thought of burnout as something you only experience in work-related situations, because when you work in a field like animal welfare, you go to a lot of compassion fatigue workshops and talk a lot about how to avoid burnout. I could cope with the work burnout, though. I could take a break, do some yoga, take a walk, take a VACATION (remember those?) but I can’t take a break from cancer. 

Even now, after seeing yet another doctor today and being told again that I’m doing quite well, all things considered, I don’t necessarily feel...better. I don’t feel sick but I don’t feel OK. I thought that once treatment was over, I’d be completely, 100% fine (oh, Past!Jennie, you fool!), but the truth is, I’m still struggling with the changes to my speech and what I can eat, I’m still not back completely energy-wise, and I still feel distracted by the “what ifs” on a daily basis. 

I think my brain has just gotten to the point where it doesn’t know what to do with all the input. So, last week, it just shut down. It said, “No more emotions, not even the good ones, I’m full up.” 

And, you know, I think it’s normal to be tired and numb at this point. Honestly, it’s a bit of a relief to not be feeling anything after months of feeling EVERYTHING. Still. I’m starting therapy next week. Cause, you know, as much as I hate asking for or accepting help from anyone, I don’t think I can fix this on my own. Just like everything else related to this entire experience.