Yep! That might be the winning comment from 2024 that sums up what it feels like to be post-chemo, post-radiation and post- amputation. Certain people, I guess, are tired of me having a chronic, terminal illness.
Said in my most sarcastic tone: OH REALLY? Other people have lives!?! I live with five young humans that definitely show me that other people have things going on. I hold a lot of space for other people's feelings and events and concerns, and honestly, that is a huge part of my identity and my connection. I love hearing about what is going on with my dearest friends and family ... But here's the thing. I will hold infinite amount of space for you if you can do the same for me. I don't even ask for an infinite amount, how about you just listen when I am clear and concise in the things that I need and what hurts me.
Another issue I had this year was beginning to learn to protect myself from negative energy. I am sometimes barely holding on to my own positive perspective of the future. I am looking at my mortality closely. I am living in a body that has betrayed me and I can only hope it continues to work for years to come. And I have had a few people continue to say things like "Getting old is a b$tch" after me asking them to not say it. Getting old is a gift, from my perspective.
Anyone that actually talked to me during a year of treatment (some could only muster a text or two), knows that I could and can talk about most anything. You're having work issues? Talk to me about it! Feeling stressed? Yes, I'm sure you are. Problems with being a parent and balancing it all? I know! I'm not going to respond with "at least you don't have cancer" because I'm not 12 and I wouldn't wish this on anyone.
But if you clap back from my legitimate feelings with "you shouldn't feel that way" or "you need too much attention" - you are not worth my empathy or energy. If I tell you I am deeply fearful of dying young, don't tell me that it's not true. If I tell you it's hurtful to joke about a character in a movie dying in hospice... You don't get to tell me I'm overreacting by being offended. I'm the one sitting in waiting rooms at the breast clinic, hearing women debate hospice with their caregivers. I'll tell you once, but I'm not wasting any more energy than that. The only people that I'm responsible for are my children: it's not my weight to carry for other adults that lack communication skills or functional empathy.
That's what so many cancer survivors need to read after chemo: how to DO and manage the after, when so many people are unwilling to listen to what your new reality looks like. It's not funny and it's more stressful than facing a chemo infusion. The side effects are not as visible as a bald head or scars left from cutting out all of your breast tissue. The sore, tingling muscles and fingertips. The major anxiety associated with every "normal" ache.
Our brains are wired to focus on the negative, unfortunately. We do this to keep a watchful eye on situations and people that are unsafe. So a few mean apples have gotten more attention than they should. I should be focusing on the good, generous, kind people in my world. The reminders are everywhere, if I just look. Love has been expressed to me in so many unique ways.
Love is a cheese grater. Sent to me because I said I shouldn't be eating pre-shredded cheese from the grocery store. Love is my Muppet mug that I carry to work every morning - sometimes with the herbal tea my friend picked out for me. Love is the "Sweary Motivational Quotes" coloring book that reminds me that You can F#CKING do this.
Love is the basket of blankets made and mailed to our house. Love is my Mr Rogers talking toy. Love is the homemade jam from Chicago or the ice mask and pens sent from Australia. Love is breast cancer awareness socks and pajamas made to hold the God-awful drains after surgery. Love is a bundle of "get better soon" cards from my students, covered in stickers.
Love is gift cards for easy dinners. Love is a Golden ticket hidden in a chocolate bar. Love is a big Kool-Aid man t-shirt. Love is puzzles and late night texts and a friend who will walk with you in the woods. Love is taking time off of work to hang out on the couch. Love is hosting a "hat party". Love is healing stones and driving to cancer rejuvenation events together. Love is Googling "how can I help". Love is showing my immediate family that you think about them too.
This post see-sawed between the awful and the beautiful. And isn't that what we are all experiencing? Everything. Everywhere. All at once. Because I have no choice but to move forward, whether my body complies or not. Whether I'm ready or not.
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