Believe me, I am 

Recently I decided to start posting more on my Instagram in order to try and gain awareness about this blog. It’s not for the ego reasons of “more likes and followers”, but it’s because every few weeks or so I am reached out to and either asked a question or just to say “thank you”. I started this blog as a therapy for myself, but it slowly started becoming not only an outlet for me, but also a way for others out there to know that they are not alone. The best compliments I have ever received are from people who have read something on my blog and said, “Thank you, this helped me so much.” 

What I began noticing as well though is that with the increase amount of posts, came the increase amount of friends “unfollowing” me. Which is hilarious. There could be over a thousand reasons why they chose to not want to know about my life anymore, but I always seem to think the same thing. I start thinking in my head that they must be mad and say, “Who is this bitch that has been off work for three years and is just travelling the world, while I am stuck behind my desk. She looks perfectly fine to me, maybe ever better, but yet continues to play the sick card.” 

I get it. In the fabricated world of social media I do look well and fine. The fact of the matter is, I’m not. Every therapist I have says I am not. My scans showing I still have tumours say I am not. My team of surgeons say I’m not. But the public eye who only see 1% of my daily life apparently have the most expert opinion. Maybe it’s my own fault. Maybe I should have posted the photo of me on the back of the boat at the Great Barrier Reef having a melt down because I didn’t have the strength or lung power to swim as far as the others were. Maybe I should have posted a photo of me feeling sick and crying by myself at the Easter Show because I was having an anxiety attack. Maybe I should have posted a photo of the pain I was in after surfing because my abs have not been even slightly used in over 3 years. Would those photos have made these people feel better? 

I don’t know why I feel the need to have to constantly prove to others that I actually am sick. Even though no one has blatantly said it to my face, I can feel the judgemental looks or snide comments. I don’t know why I give a fuck. I know, and my close circle knows the truth. Isn’t that all that should matter? Well yes, of course. I guess it’s easier said than done. 

My reader friends! Make sure to follow my site so you will always be the first to read a new post! Also, if you feel one of my posts will help others, feel free to share it within your own social community!
I share a lot of my life through Instagram – I welcome you to join it with me! Find me @jamie_phelps ✌️

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14 thoughts on “Believe me, I am 

  1. Gail says:

    Meh…you’re in good company. Kim Kardashian just lost 100,000 followers because she posted some Insta pictures that were not photoshopped and clearly showed her fat ass and cellulite accumulated on it. No filters used. http://www.chicksontheright.com/kim-kardashian-lost-100000-followers-instagram-unflattering-cellulite-photo-emerged/

    You can’t win for being real about your ordeal, and you can’t win for only posting pictures that are positive. What you’ve gone through is horrific. Absolutely horrific. I applaud you for still being able to find the smallest amount of positive stuff that happens to you and celebrating it. Far too many people wallow in whatever misery they find themselves in. So….post the shit out of your happy times. I’ll follow that…..

  2. Jamie, as someone very newly diagnosed with stage IV colon cancer, I have found your posts and shares to be extremely uplifting. As I have waited to see how my body responds to my first introduction to chemo, I have pondered whether future holidays with my loved ones will even be possible. Seeing you out there, embracing your opportunities to explore the world, has been wonderful. Thank you for sharing and know that you are continuing to have such a positive impact all over the world, on people you have never even met.

    • Jamie says:

      Thanks Nicole. That really means a lot. Sending you positive thoughts for your upcoming chemo treatments. If you have any questions or just need to talk to someone who get it’s, just reach out!

  3. Molly says:

    Jamie, I’d agree with what Nicole said. Never be sorry you’re posting those photos as opposed to the others because you’re proving to people what you CAN do. Your honesty is why I love reading your blog and I find all of your instagram pictures inspiring. It doesn’t matter if the photo is you snorkeling or you receiving chemo – they are all a reminder to not take life for granted and to live it to its fullest. Those bitches that want to unfollow you can do that but they have a lot of learning to do and that’s on them, not you.

  4. cait81 says:

    Hi Jamie, completely agree. We’re on holiday in the U.K. at the moment. It would look awesome on social media. The reality is that I’ve had 27 cycles of chemo, my body and mind need a break, and I’ll go back to either more chemo or surgery. Stage IV is not for the faint hearted! Much love x

  5. Just popping in to say Hi. I am also another Stage 4 Bowel cancer. Another one “Too oung for it to be bowel cancer”. I am so glad I have found you – However, wish we didn’t have to be blogging about this vile cancer.

  6. Why do you care? I just unfollowed another blog because I haven’t read it in a while and one post was interesting when I started following it, but I don’t really have the time to read them anymore, and I don’t agree with a lot of their ideas about “healthy is being vegan” or stuff like that. I don’t know if anybody has unfollowed me, but I don’t really care the least little bit. Maybe I would care if they commented negative and true things: “you post lies”, “your grammar is a shame”, “your posts are hateful” or whatever. Other than that, let them go and let them come, and I believe it’s fine. From what you wrote, it looks like you are in reasonably good shape, maybe you feel better than me, and that’s a very good thing. While I understand that you are ill, I will be happy to read that you feel good, or better than me, or are able to surf until your tummy hurts. Don’t feel bad about the tummy, feel good that you can surf. Surf more, have fun and feel good!

    • Jamie says:

      Oh I 100% agree. Most days I truthfully could careless what anyone thinks. Subjects such as this come up a lot in my groups – from judgemental thoughts about work, to stares from others about disability parking. If I never cared what people thought, I would probably stop shaving my legs lol. It’s hard not to care a little – or I guess think about it.
      When I was first diagnosed I googled a lot and could never find anything or anyone like me. (Maybe I was just googling the wrong search terms? lol) Either way, that’s the reason I started this blog. Not only for my own brain dump, but also to let others out there know that they are not alone. Thanks for all the kind words! 😊❤

      • Hahaha, I have never used a disability parking spot, but there have been times where I wished I could use it without the trouble of explaining. It’s obvious when somebody uses a wheelchair, but my disability is inside me, and people won’t figure it out. These days I’m better and I can do a lot of things. My condition is weird, I am not supposed to have cancer now (I won’t say I’m cured until the five years of surveillance have passed, and then I am still prone, I think), but after radiation with chemo pills and the last surgery, things have been pretty difficult. What I have done is, I made a small brochure with a full explanation of my condition, and I have used it to board planes in the first group. I have no regrets about that. Gate agents never ask any questions or even look at my papers, they are always very kind.
        About finding people like us, I did find a group in Facebook that helped me a lot when I was getting into this. I had my whole colon removed and a reservoir built out of small intestine. It’s called a J-Pouch, and the J-Pouch group helped me in a lot of ways. I wore a bag on my tummy for a few months, and the funny thing is that instead of feeling desperate for living with the appliance, I was rather proud of it and showed it off. These days I don’t have it, and while it feels good to be bagless like a Dyson, I did use to have better quality of life back then. I used to run 5 km every week, and so far that hasn’t happened yet. But I am improving, even when my oncologist worries and sends me to a colonoscopy, I’m feeling better. I think a lot about all different outcomes. Either I have become tired of worrying or I have been working hard to come up with a way to live life the way it is, but I don’t worry a lot anymore. I’m seeing my oncologist tomorrow. I believe my marker won’t be in normal values, I haven’t looked, but I’m not as nervous as I used to get. It amazes me how life can kick so hard and be so mean, and then it’s also the sweetest thing ever…

      • Jamie says:

        Oh my gosh I love that your brochure worked!!! That is so amazing! Good for you!!! Keep that positive attitude going as it sounds like it is working well for you!!

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