We talk to our loved ones, those closest to us and that's important and necessary. And yet, it's difficult to be.. raw, brutally open and honest, to show them the very harsh reality of what a disease is and how it manifests not only physically, but mentally and spiritually. I can't speak for everyone but it is my nature to protect them.
Hence, the need, often times, for a non-invested person to talk with. We don't have to shield them. We're finally free to rant and rave, to cry until we blow our noses into wadded up tissue that has been gripped tightly by a fist that trembles.
This is what surprises me most about being sick - how strong one must be to keep fighting for their life or their quality of life. By the very nature of being ill, having an illness or disease, you're already physically weaker. Yet, we find some inner source of strength, sheer force of will, that keeps us going.
The freedom to say anything we want and to release a well of emotion is crucial. We absolutely need to get it all out until we're limp and empty of the bad stuff for a while. Maybe your person to do that with is a spouse or best friend, a lover, a soulmate, your favorite cousin or your pastor. Maybe it's the therapist that sits across from you, silently watching with a look of compassion on her face as yours crumples.
Somehow, she knows that you've pretty much got this figured out. You're a smart cookie, you've done the research, you know the five stages of grief and you even know you'll have to revisit them from time to time. She listens and knows that you're going to be okay, that you'll find a way to live this new life that fits like too small, pinched, ugly shoes at times but slowly, you're finding your way to not just hobble but dance in them.