I don’t know if I have the strength to keep living anymore

I don’t know if I have the strength to keep living anymore.

Short intro: I’m 38 years old, living in Sweden. My mom died from breast cancer last year. One and a half months later, I was diagnosed with breast cancer myself—it wasn’t hereditary. I took care of my mom during the final stage of her life, for several months. I was drowning in stress. I had to take on almost all the responsibility, especially the emotional part. My mom had a lot of anxiety. I didn’t have a good childhood. I tried to reconcile with her towards the end. She died a horrible death, very prolonged over many hours. I watched her suffer, and I was in shock.

After that, I developed sleep problems for some time. A doctor diagnosed me with “acute stress disorder.”

My mom died in January. I got breast cancer in February. The same year. Just one and a half months later.

I never had time to breathe before I became seriously ill myself. Chemotherapy, surgery, radiation—the whole thing.

Then I was told my cancer was very aggressive.

Afterwards, I saw a psychologist. I processed my mom’s death intensely for six weeks. Then the psychologist stopped. I had to wait in line for a new one. Healthcare told me my problems were too severe for primary care. They sent three referrals to psychiatry for a psychologist, and I was rejected every time. Now I’m waiting in line again.

I live with my dad. He is 77 years old. It’s not possible to talk about feelings with him. I can be crying in front of him, and he gets uncomfortable and says he’s going to “get the mail,” or he leaves the room.

I have such mental fatigue, difficulty concentrating, and I forget things easily.

Stiffness and joint pain from my hormone therapy. I do strength training 3–4 times a week. The gym is the only thing I live for.

But I can’t keep going like this. I have so much inside me that needs to come out, but I have no one to talk to.

I know many people with breast cancer that I’ve gotten to know. But it stays superficial. I can’t burden them with how badly I’m feeling. Many people say I seem so positive, but I’m pretending to be cheerful and joking.

I’m dying on the inside. I can’t handle all of this on my own. The pain after my mom’s brutal death. Then getting cancer myself, and having such a high risk of recurrence. All the fear. I can’t take it anymore. I don’t actually want to die. But I want to fall asleep. I want to sleep away the rest of my life. I want to be unconscious and not feel pain and grief.

I just needed to write this out.