And the theme of March will be grace. Grace upon grace.
grace [ greys ]
noun.
moral strength.
Survivorship is not a place free from sadness. And to think otherwise (whether you’re the one surviving or you’re on the outside watching in) is a massive misjudgment of reality and a very mismanaged expectation.
Sometimes it’s predictable and comes with an anniversary or a reflection in the mirror.
Sometimes it’s a train outta nowhere because that’s how trauma triggers work.
Today it was a “Google Highlights” picture that popped up on my phone dated July 2017. A selfie of me and my Annie (who had just turned 9). My beautiful hair, my sweet daughter’s innocent eyes and smile with her bright blond hair, the sunshiny sky of a 4th of July/Annie Birthday vacation above us…
A beautiful picture, yes, but it was the dread in my eyes and the fear in my smile that stole my breath today as I stopped everything I was doing and stared at it. I couldn’t look away, I couldn’t stop looking into my own eyes. I knew before I even knew…. I had found the mass by then, I was living in denial and hoping, crossing my fingers, praying, wishing that one day I’d wake up and it would be gone. And it was around that same time as that picture, maybe even the night before that picture was taken, that I found the second mass. No one knew. I kept my little secret. Pleading I’d never have to voice it out loud yet somehow knowing all too well that the sweet ignorance of denial was soon running out.
It’s still there.
It’s still there.
It’s still there.
Oh no.
The memories hit hard. Predictable or not. And picking up the pieces is a messy and dreadfully painful work, the shards cutting in, reopening brutal scars. Survivorship is not a place free from sadness. . . Thank God it is full of grace.
*Post 1086
My Story :: 3/24/18 :: Post 199
I am having to say goodbye to one of my dearest bestest friends. She is moving out of state and while we will always be connected, our relationship will have to change and that feels hard. She has been such an integral part of my life, a vital part of my story and while those things will always hold true and she can still be integral and vital, her accessibility looks different now. I won’t get to drive to meet her for lunch or dinner or coffee…now we will have to keep our friendship alive through facetime and texting and social media. She is a beautiful soul and I am so grateful our stories are woven together.
Speaking of stories…. My head is in some interesting places tonight.
I went to a social gathering today where I really didn’t know many people there. There was a small handful of people that I know and that know me, an even smaller handful that know know me and the large majority with no relationship at all.
I went wigless.
And I was so scared to do it.
But it was also a very pivotal moment for me.
It’s a strange place to be — to own my story and my experience and allow it to define me and change me but also be overwhelmed and scared by walking it out. To be strong and confident but also vulnerable and nervous. To be bold but also afraid. To be willing to have the Lord use me but also unsure of how that should look.
I was sitting at a table tonight with several other women, only 2 of which I actually know. Again, wigless. Granted, the look I’m walking around with is gaining popularity, but not necessarily in the social settings I frequent…it is pretty uncommon to see a woman with a buzz cut. I felt compelled to honor my own story and the depth of my cancer-transformed identity and yet so hesitant to say anything because I am so practiced at “use your story, don’t tell it.” I felt like I wanted people to know why I looked the way I did and yet I also felt it was foolish to have to announce why I looked the way I did. I wanted people to know my battle and that I didn’t choose to look this way but I also struggled with the idea that I felt the need to explain myself. And then I found myself annoyed with myself for having the way I look be such a big deal.
But it is. It is a big deal. Cancer is a big effing deal. And my battling it…is a big.effing.deal.
Then the conversation opened up to where I was able to share briefly about my cancer diagnosis and journey. And I did. I answered questions, I shared a few sentiments about what I’m learning.
And I found myself wanting to crawl in a hole and shy away from the interactions. From the attention on my story. From the sharing of my battle and heart.
Aaaahhhh. Do I want to share it or not??????
And maybe it’s not up to me.
As I sit here tonight writing, it makes me wonder what God is going to do with this. Will I be asked to share my experience or will I walk out my transformation quietly? What would it look like if it’s both? I don’t know. And I don’t need to know. But it is an interesting place to sit.
And another thing also hit me…
As I was sharing parts of my journey with a group of women that were so encouraging and engaged in what I was sharing, the words coming out of my mouth kind of blow me away.
Cancer.
Stage 3. Grade 3. Not far from metastasis.
Aggressive.
Tumors. “S” as in plural….as in more than one…
Double mastectomy.
Chemo.
Radiation.
Poison.
Cancer.
Cancer.
Cancer…
I intimately know the depth of these words. They are no longer a figment of imagination. They are no longer just expressive words to describe someone else’s experience. When someone says chemo, I now have my own meaning. When someone says cancer, I KNOW cancer.
I have seen these words from their insides. These are my words. My experience. My story.
Everything Matters More :: 3/24/19 :: Post 558
Now that cancer is a part of my story, everything matters more.
My relationships.
My purpose.
How I spend my time.
What food I put in my body.
My hair and eyelashes. 😉
Wellness is also something that has a different meaning. I have a husband who has a nasty cold and I have a kid that has a pretty high fever….. and I want no part of any of it. BC (before cancer) I would have been happy to take care of my sick loved ones, now, though, I have to look at wellness differently and I have to be more careful. I shouldn’t expose myself as much as I can help it because I’m forever changed by fighting this evil disease. Chemo has taken it’s toll. Radiation has left is mark.
…and not only on my physical body.
No post for 3/24/20