Themes rang like bells throughout the year. Being an intimate partner with Grief, acceptance is no stranger. Each time I have come to terms with loss, I learn a deeper meaning. I have absolutely experienced grieving my identity. This time I had no one I could redirect blame. This time it felt very different. It continues to amaze me how this universe insists on specific lessons. In addition to feeling wildly inconvenienced by cancer, I immediately began wondering what the purpose of this was. At this stage of my journey, I believe acceptance is the center.
From day one, the speed at which I accepted the new nuances
of being a cancer patient determined how quickly I was able to find any
fragments of peace. This approach isn’t totally different than what I would
usually do in crisis. What was different this time was each layer of acceptance
was embracing my total deconstruction. I have spent a tremendous amount of time
in the warmth of depression disguised as defeat. Every doctor’s visit
introduced new elements of truth beyond my control to change.
As anger held control for a bit, I numbly signed paperwork.
The tangible evidence of reality stared me in the face. The severity thickening
as I drove away from my boys. The weakness in my stability to play with my
granddaughters. The unpredictability of reliance frustrated me as my daughter
and son-in-law prepared for big changes of their own. My passive dependence on
my daughter. Her presence was instrumental in showing me the way to accepting
things healthily. Seeing the evolution of our relationship allowed me to
understand the big picture. I got knocked down from my tower quickly.
I have accepted the truth in the way self-control has fed my
self-awareness. In no way does this equate to mastery. But it feels really
interesting to understand the reasons why I’m this way. It’s interesting in the
way that I don’t feel my previous feelings of confidence have become invalid. I
have learned to accept that some of the coping skills I use are rooted in
trauma. This doesn’t make them any less powerful. Understanding where they come
from makes me feel a finer visual on why I am triggered. I feel like
understanding why I do things makes it easier for me to recognize how to remove
triggers more effectively. If not permanently.
I understand the role I play in my own growth. I am learning
that simply surviving a crisis doesn’t equate to growth. Everything hard I have
gone through before this, pales in comparison to the difficulty level. Accepting
the root cause of Emma has opened new neural pathways. This helps me identify
areas I can improve with more structure instead of anxiety inducing criticality.
There hasn’t been a single day that I haven’t felt compelled to write something
in my journal. I’m taking note of constant discovery.
There are months yet for me to live through before I will
feel like I have fully accepted my new body. Just because my brain has found the way to get
through this doesn’t mean it’s going to be a cake walk. This is absolutely
kicking my face inside out. The way accepting the reality of a bilateral
mastectomy meant embracing body dysmorphia. The sooner I accepted chemotherapy
was happening, the sooner I was able to accept my bald head. I get to choose
how long I want to stay angry, sad, or anything non-progressive. It’s up to me
when I want to see what it feels like when I’ve accepted it. This is a daily
effort right now.
Accepting the entirety of what cancer has taken from me is a
lesson in patience. The details of this are revealed in very weird ways. The usual
ways to be physically validated have been removed from the list of acceptable
forms. I am having a very real struggle with feeling pretty. This is just one
feature of my insecurity. It’s going to take time. Being insecure isn’t new. I’ve
spent years hating something about myself. My ego is extremely weak these days.
I need to accept the new version of my role as a mother.
This will only take time, too. This cancer took the air out of a balloon I spent
years inflating. The carelessness in my complacency left me in a state of shock
over the absence of my children far more piercing than the cancer diagnosis. I am
still learning how to be a long-distance parent. There will be mistakes
learning this one. There is comfort in how things have gone so far. It’s not
perfect, but it’s working.
If you would have told my younger self that I would battle
cancer as a single mother, I would have wondered what I did in my life! At the
start, that sentiment was absolutely going through my mind. There was a lot of crying
in loneliness. The support and love I receive through calls, texts, cards,
gifts, visits, etc. is a lifeline. As I advanced through treatment, it was the
exactly perfect amount I needed. The acceptance of needing to be alone has been
a really beautiful experience. Having the openness in my heart during this year
has made so many things manageable. I am now able to recognize the need my
spirit had for the quiet time. I was provided with the perfect amount of support
in all its forms.
I would have preferred getting to this kind of understanding
didn’t require such upheaval, but I’ve reached a point of accepting the truth
in obtaining wisdom requires breakdowns of versions. I feel like my operating
system has just gotten a giant upgrade with new levels and features. It’s up to
me with how quickly I move through these coming phases.
No comments:
Post a Comment