I'm 25 years old. I've lived like this for so long, running, hiding, hoping to escape. And the more I think about it--and I think about it a lot--the more convinced I am that the only way out is through.
I heard this song for the first time a few days ago, and it literally brought me to my knees. It's by the Silent Comedy. I heard it as part of someone else's transition video, which I'm gonna go ahead and link:
I don't know what happened to me. I couldn't watch it all at a shot, with that song.
Oh my God, please help me
Knee-deep in the river trying to get clean
He says "Wash your hands, get out the stains
But you best believe, boy, there's hell to pay
Yeah, you best believe, boy, there's hell to pay"
I paused, got up, paced, came back, got up, paced some more. I left the room, went out and paced in the kitchen, stared out the window, came back, left again.
Oh my God, please help me
Waist-deep in the river, can you hear my plea
He says, "Son, you come like a beggar in the streets
You might make it, boy, but by the skin of your teeth
You might make it, boy, but by the skin of your teeth"
I could feel myself sweating. I beat my fists against my thighs, craving the sting, searching for the ground beneath the treads of my boots.
I've rambled with the worst of them
Fell in love with a harlequin
Saw the darkest hearts of men
And I saw myself staring back again
And I saw myself staring back again
I watched, listening, intent, until the music changed. Then the music changed, and I felt my heart surge, every thought I've ever had, wish I've ever made, every single emotion I've ever felt churning behind my eyes, and I talked to myself, but I don't know what I said.
Oh my God, please help me
Neck-deep in the river screaming for relief
He says, "It's mine to give, but it's yours to choose
You're gonna sink or swim, you're gonna learn the truth
No matter what you do, you're gonna learn the truth"
That song changed everything.
Ate the bread that once was stone
Fell from a cliff, never broke a bone
Bowed down to get the kings overthrown
And I'm all alone, and the fire grows
And I'm all alone, and the fire grows
I'm pretty sure that I'm running up against the closest thing to a religious experience I'm ever likely to encounter. I don't know what will happen to me next. I'm pretty sure everything will be okay in the end, but I don't know if everything will be okay in the beginning, and for that reason I don't know where to start.
My aunt Christy was diagnosed three days ago with Stage 4 triple-negative BRCA-1+ breast cancer. It's unbelievably rare--less than one in a million. Everyone in the family has to get tested now for BRCA-1, which is an "oncogene" responsible for many rare forms of breast and gynecological cancers in women, as well as prostate cancers in men. If it turns out that I have this gene, I will have to have a prophylactic mastectomy and hysterectomy--persons with active BRCA-1 have a 90% risk of developing breast cancer at some point in their lives, and a 65% chance of developing ovarian cancer, so right now prophylactic removals are the first line of defense.
When my mother told me that Christy was sick, my first thought wasn't even about Christy. It was about getting to buck the system. It was about hoping that I might get sick too--that they might take my breasts and my uterus and my ovaries and there would be nothing my mother could do about it, and I would have absolutely nothing to explain.
It makes me feel sick, knowing how selfish I am.
But it also tells me something else, because I meant it. For a few spasming seconds, I couldn't wait to get breast cancer. And THAT...well, that's something that's going to have to change.
Where can you run to escape from yourself?
Sing, sweet charity
Take what's left of me
A new beginning, or is this the end?
Sing, sweet seraphim
Take me back again
Or watch me make the messes of men
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