When David wrote Psalm 23, the bit about walking through the valley of the shadow of death, HE DIDN’T MEAN THE EASTER EGG GAUNTLET OF AN AUSTRALIAN SUPERMARKET. And neither should I.

I should not have to plan a grocery shopping trip with battlefield tactics. I should not feel like I’m about to jump off a cliff to my certain death because the fish I had chosen to buy was sold out and I need to choose another kind.

I woke up this morning determined to be okay today. Determined to be a normal wife, mother, person, relaxing and holidaying after the first round of uni assignments have been finished and submitted.

But here I am. Shattered after a trip to buy milk and bread and fish. Staring at my scheduled morning snack like it’s poison. Dreading the chocolate that’s coming tomorrow. Throwing cheese away when Tony’s back is turned.

I am angry. And I’m angry at the right thing. Gloria. I refuse to be held hostage any longer. This is just too much. I have had enough of this stupid cruel disease.

There is so much more to life than this.

Gloria is NOT me.