Let me just say it plainly:
I. Want. To. Feel. Normal.

Is that so unreasonable?
To wake up with energy?
To know who I am and what day it is?
(At this point, I’d settle for getting one of those right.)

And honestly—
some days my inner toddler wakes up before I do.

She wants to march into Wal-Mart (where else),
plop down in the middle of the stupid seasonal aisle,
and unleash a Big-Ass Deluxe Super-Sized Tantrum™
complete with foot stomping,
arm flailing,
and a dramatic,
“I WANT THIS TO BE O–VER, DAMMIT!”

I want to scream it so loud
they hear it in Sporting Goods.

But then…
I re-read what I wrote.

And suddenly the tantrum isn’t quite as adorable as it sounded in my head.
Because WOW.
Who knew I was the spoiled brat in this equation?

Here I am whining about wanting the finish line closer,
when some people don’t even get a finish line—
just more road.
More fight.
More pain.
More “keep going even though you’re tired down to your soul.”

Talk about a perspective slap.

Meanwhile I’ve got a lightning bug blinking at me
from the end of my tunnel,
like,
“Hey girl, I’m tiny but I’m TRYING.”

And if I get even a flicker of light,
I damn well want to help somebody else
spot theirs.

So instead of melting down in Wal-Mart
(tempting though it still is),
I’m redirecting that dramatic energy
toward something useful:

How to Help Someone Who’s in the Dark

• Send a meal (or a DoorDash code).
A cancer patient receiving a no-cook dinner is basically the Oscars of kindness.

• Text them with ZERO expectation of reply.
“Thinking of you—don’t answer this or I’ll fight you.”
Perfect.

• Learn other people’s stories, not just mine.
Sites full of real humans being brave and messy:

• The Mighty
• Stupid Cancer
• Cancer Support Community (legit, not woo-woo)
• American Cancer Society (the grown-up in the room)

• Volunteer without leaving your recliner.

• Letters Against Isolation → send love to lonely seniors
• Imerman Angels → one-on-one support mentoring

• Donate if you can. Share if you can’t.
No guilt. Just options.

And maybe the biggest one:

When you have even ONE lightning-bug moment,
hold it up.
Let someone else borrow the glow.

Because tantrums feel good for a minute.
But helping someone else find their light?
That feels good for a long time.