My Own Fucking Fault

It is my fault I got cancer. I don’t mean that I did it deliberately or that I wanted it to happen, but cancer is a glitch in the body’s normal system of cell division. The resulting cancer was as much a part of me as my lungs, my eyes or my heart.

My body, my fault.

This is a thought that occurred to me sometime about halfway through the chemo when I was looking for someone to blame. Best guess is that the medication I was taking for my Crohn’s Disease may have triggered the cancer, but ultimately I was aware that there was a one in a thousand chance of developing cancer associated with the drug and I took it anyway.

My fault.

Then I began to think of everything else that had gone wrong in my life and kept coming back to the same conclusion; I could blame other people and make all the excuses I wanted, but ultimately it comes down to one very simple thing …

It was my own fucking fault.

When we’re babies almost nothing is our fault. We at the mercy of our caregivers, our environment and a world we cannot hope to understand yet. As we grow we take on more and more responsibilities until sometime in your late teens when pretty much everything in your life is now your responsibility. That is not to say you won’t make some colossally stupid decisions along the way, but that is okay; screwing up is a crucial part of growing up. Fuck, it’s a crucial part of being a human being. We don’t ever stop making mistakes.

But if you are truly honest with yourself, almost everything that happens to you is your own fucking fault. Whining that it was someone else’s responsibility or screw up is useless at best and sheer cowardliness at worst. Either way, nothing gets done.

It sounds bleak, but there is a very powerful upside: if it is your fault, you can fix it. And if you can’t fix it, at least you will learn from it, which is the whole point of fucking up in the first place.