How do I describe the last 7 months of my life? Instantly I hear the little voice in my head, "just start writing." So that's what I'll do.
Seven months ago, within a period of just a few weeks, the business where I worked shut it's doors, I found out the house we were leasing was going to be taken back by the owners and most disturbingly that I had Breast Cancer. I was in shock. I stayed there for a couple months. I would have moments where I would rise to the surface gasping for air but quickly descend again.
Day after day I went to appointments of all kinds: The surgeon, the breast oncologist, the naturopath, the nutritionist, the acupuncturist, the therapist, the shaman, the massage therapist, the PT scan, the CT scan, the MRI, the physical therapist and oh the endless blood work! Of course I meditated and prayed and meticulously swallowed dozens of supplements and exercised and ate very cleanly and practiced mindfulness and saged and bathed and religiously recorded my dreams. Of course the "perfect girl" persona showed up and for awhile she convinced me that if I was perfect enough I would survive this. I soon realized that no amount of perfection would take away the fear.
I trudged through the endless tests and fiercely battled the incredible anxiety waiting for each set of results. My beloved Joe (who will be referred to as my hero man from now on) was by my side through it all. At times I thought I would break the bones in his hand I squeezed so hard! I had my port put in and soon after chemotherapy began. A few weeks into chemo and I finally surrendered and let go of my need for perfection and control. More on that another time. But it was the best and hardest thing for me to do. My family and all of my wonderful friends gathered around me and held me even when I didn't think I could hold on.
About 5 weeks ago (which at the time was 5 weeks post-op) I described in my journal what the past few months were like:
I've been cocooning these past months wrapped up like a swaddled baby who is inconsolable. At times (most all the time) there has been nothing that will soothe me. Often the best part of my day has been 10:00 pm when I can take my trazodone and my xanax and try to go to sleep. Depression has descended over me like a forgotten nemesis - that dark angel has always been there throughout my life always eager to wrap me up and hold me down. If she is an angel what is her gift? Can darkness hold a gift? Days and days of fear and anxiety force me to retreat to a place deep within myself where nothing exists except darkness. It is not a spiritual experience or at least I don't think so in the moment. There is no energy for self reflection or gratitude or even whispered prayers. Just darkness. Maybe that is a healing place. The seed does not reflect on it's imagined growth in the spring. The roots that have long lost their green brilliance don't anticipate the next summer's flowers. There is just darkness. Something just takes over in that lonely place. Alone. All one. I eat the bland, sweet food that sits before me. I get up and walk from chair to bed and back to chair again. That is my world. I force myself to eat again. I drag myself outside because voices around me tell me fresh air and exercise will help. Maybe it does a little. I feel alone on this journey even when I'm surrounded by compassionate people who love me fiercely even when I'm unreachable. My hero stays - he doesn't run even when I sink deeper. I watch him through the thick, dense clouds and wonder why. I wonder how he can watch me in this place. I know he thinks he has lost me at times. I know he feels helpless at times. He tells me, "please let me help you, please let me take this from you." I have learned how to embrace the former but I would never even imagine the latter. He continues hour after hour, day after day to run into the burning fury of my despair - never flinching, never hesitating, not even for a moment. In this I am able to find deep gratitude. The gift of a man who stays.
Re-reading this journal entry I can see the small glimmer of hope that appears even in the most challenging of times.
I re-read the words I have just written and I think... is this too personal to share? I feel raw and vulnerable as I have for the past seven months. There is nothing to hide behind anymore nor do I want to. I want to be honest and reach out to others and more than anything to love deeply.
