It is hard to articulate the importance of a strong support system while suffering from a disability and maintaining a college career. There have been many times I wanted to just give up. I was depressed, scared, lonely, and tired. I wanted to be lost and alone in my depression (preferably curled up in a ball hidden underneath my covers). Those feelings still linger somewhere underneath my surface. There is a constant ebb and flow to my happiness. A darkness that threatens every silver lining in my life. It is an ongoing battle to stay positive and happy. Yet somehow, when things get too hard for me to bear, my support system is right there pushing me along and giving me reasons to keep looking forward.

I am the youngest of eight children. I have seven other brothers and sisters. They are all significantly older than me and most are married with children of their own. I now have a total of 13 nieces and nephews. That is a total of 27 immediate family members. They are my readymade, built in support system. They are the reasons I continued my education while going through treatment. I even took this job as a blogger because of the push they gave me to try. Obviously my family hates seeing me suffer. We all argue and fight but when it is important, all twenty-seven people come together and push the petty arguments aside. That is what they did for me while I was in the hospital. Some took the tough love route while others coddled me with understanding. None knew exactly what to do to help. Somehow the accumulation of love and support pushed me along. One of my sisters got very angry at me when I told her I was not going to finish the honors paper that I worked so hard on. I seen in her eyes how disappointed she was in me. She did not see my illness. She looked past the IV pole and the ever dripping chemo bag and saw a mind, an idea, being wasted. She could not understand why I was “throwing away” an opportunity. Through her I was able to see myself, for the first time, as the person I always was. I was not my sickness. Cancer was not me. It was just another hoop I had to jump through in order to prove how badly I wanted the recognition of Honors.  My sister in law also helped push me to finish that class. I was told by my Honors professor I probably would not be able to complete the course. She felt it best if I just took the grade for the first part of the course and focus on healing. This infuriated my sister in law. My professor was concerned with focusing on my health and healing while my sister in law knew first hand that I would be able to handle it. She called the head of the Honors department and asked if there was anything we could possibly do in order to get me to the finish line of that class. There was. He kindly and graciously extended the turn in date of the paper for me. There was no working around the date of the final test. That was something I either could or couldn’t make. Anything else was tentative. Seeing my sister in law reach out and fight for me to accomplish my dreams put a fire under my rear to get my stuff together and just finish it. The constant badgering and questioning of my family: “Did you finish that paper yet?”,“Chris, are you going to get it done?”, “I don’t understand why you’re procrastinating with this” made me want to shut them up and finish the paper. I eventually did.

Taking this job as a blogger was a hard decision for me. It meant taking another class and opening up about all of my experiences. I was not sure I was ready for it. To be honest, I just wanted a three month hiatus to relax and focus on me after the whirlwind my body and mind had just gone through.  When I voiced my doubts about taking this blogging experience on they were right there calling me an idiot. It is exactly what I needed. I didn’t see it at the time. All I saw was my bed, my television, Facebook, and Netflix calling my name. Three months of nothingness. They helped me remember I had three months of nothingness when I was going in and out of the hospital. They reminded me of how I always said that once I got better I was determined to be a voice for someone out there going through something similar to me because I never felt anyone spoke on behalf of me. There are not many young adults out there openly talking about their fight. Ironically I wanted to be a “voice” for others and QC Voices gave me that opportunity. My family gave me the push to actually do it.

I know not everyone has a family like mine. That is neither a good or a bad thing. Families come in all different shapes and sizes. I know how rare a family like mine is (and yes I know I’m idealizing here). However, that does not mean that you can’t have the same or similar support system. I also am lucky to have many friends that never left my side throughout this whole experience. My friends know that I can’t always do what other twenty-four year olds do. They come and support me by reading my writing and feigning interest when I go on tangents about looking at my gender and sexuality course through a postcolonial lens. Most do not know what I’m talking about but they know I’m invested in this course and are happy to see me happy again for the first time in a while. When I need a break from my family but still need support they are right there stepping up and helping me out. It is important to make a family out of the friends you have. Be there for them like they are there for you. Friendship is about reciprocation and sharing. I can’t always focus on me and my problems. I need to be open to listening to them and helping them out too. I know that if I didn’t have a family, the friends I have would circle around me, arms open, and push me to accomplish everything I want just like my family does.

When things get hard, which they already have this semester with ever looming deadlines and mental exhaustion, my support system is there reminding me of who I am and why I fought so hard to get to where I am. I look in their faces and remember that I want to make something of myself for them. I want them to know that I did everything I could to accomplish my dreams. I want my younger nieces and nephews to be able to look to me as an example of what a good role model is. Even though I fail sometimes and falter along this journey, I can and will pick myself up, dust myself off, and keep moving forward. For them and because of them.

This past Wednesday was the Light the Night walk. It was beautiful. Thousands came out in support of those suffering from Leukemia and Lymphoma. Survivors carried white balloons. Supportors and caregivers carried red. Those that walked in remberance of a love one lost carried gold. Below are my red balloon carriers. However, in my eyes, they carried the red balloons not because it is the color of blood but because they carry love that keeps pushing me foward