“Some old wounds never truly heal, and bleed again at the slightest word.”
― George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones
Everyone has problems; I have never met a person without one. The degree of those problems and how you handle them however is measured by the amount of personal shit you have had to endure. The type of person you become is moulded by how you get through them. I remember when my brother’s girlfriend was killed in a car accident. I was in my early 20’s and worked at a sports store at the time. I remember looking at customers who took hours pondering over a pair of shoes. I honestly couldn’t believe that someone could waste so much time and energy on something so trivial. It really shook me up and put my life into perspective.
I have had people through my life that have made their problems their armour. Instead of walking through the fire and becoming an inspiration to others they have chosen to be victims and have spiralled downwards into alcoholic or drug induced depression. It really saddens me, when I see what has become of people I once called friends. I feel like giving them a bloody good shake. For goodness sake they were the fastest sperm! Surely that has to mean something, but sadly not. And it’s not that I don’t feel for these people, they are simply no longer a reflection of me anymore. To invite their drama and negativity into my life would tip the fine balance that I have to delicately tend and nurture so I stay a happy and healthy person.
I am as guilty as anyone when it comes to keeping my life busy. I have lists, for lists. Life simply couldn’t go on without me and I have to fit as much into a day as humanly possible. I will often forget that not so long ago I was a very sick person. After surgery I was barely able to walk to the car let alone race around a shopping center. Slowly Ground Hog Day sucks you back into this illusionary world of material happiness and then you get news that slaps you right in the face.
A colleague and friend, someone I consider to be one of the support beams in my life has just been given a terminal cancer diagnosis. This has affected me on so many different levels that I could do nothing but cry for three days. It is just awful to say that my genuinely upsetting photo on facebook reached a ridiculous 2,332 people. I was very touched by the people that left comments and contacted me personally to see if I was okay. The outpouring of support was comforting but I knew I didn’t need ‘to talk it out’. I needed a few days away and some journaling to help me work out my feelings in all of this. This hit to my heart feels like I have been thrown back into a place of fear and despair.
Sometimes the only thing that helps a hurting heart is a paint brush and some loud music. Hug your loved ones tonight peeps. Life can change in a heartbeat xox
My friend has looked after me like a sister and as the years have gone by, we have been able to share more personal experiences inviting each other into parts of our private lives that have forged an emotional sisterhood of sorts. She has seen the birth of my babies, the heartache of my cancer and my slow and steady recovery to wellness. I am so indebted to her and so grateful. She has genuinely cared for me and my family, and now I feel so totally helpless. I am getting a sense of how people felt when they heard of my diagnosis.
I have been of working through my cancer issues for four years now. Constantly and consciously looking inwards and working with the shadow side of myself. Committing to meditation and self awareness classes to release the cancer part of me and to help me become an enlightened version of myself. Dedicating my energy to my art and using that as a healing tool. All the while staying as grounded as I can be with looming genetics and the constant vigil of medical appointments and intrusive procedures. It is very hard for some people to comprehend the hard work and commitment it takes to stay true to your destiny path.
A recent visit to the oncology gynaecologist , which at the moment is on my annual ‘to do’ list revealed that the ‘preventative surgery’ of a full hysterectomy should be done sooner rather than later. My funky MLH1 gene makes way to an increased risk of cancer of the uterus by 60% and ovarian by %15. Part of me wants to hang onto what I have left for as long as possible, if they take much more out I’ll be a walking tube. The other part never wants to put my family in a position of ‘helplessness’ ever again. Of course there is also the part of me that NEVER EVER wants to go through cancer ever again, and then there is the enlighten part that reassures me that my biography becomes by biology and I may never ever get a cancer again. This bamboozle of thoughts and emotions is played out almost every day of my life. Hence the small circle of friendships I keep and the immediate rejection of anything toxic which might want to invade and play out in my life.
Emotional? Yes, I am after all a Cancerian. Sense of humour? Most definitely. It is probably what has helped me get through as much as I have. The security of the support team I had locked around me is starting to shift again and that is where the most fear has come from. It is embracing change and knowing that nothing in life is set in concrete. My heart however still needs to come to terms with what is to come, although my friend has been given the best of a worse case scenario. If I was to make an analogy of the situation it’s like this - most people think that I would be use to all the medical procedures by now, but infact it is quite the opposite. I know what is coming and that is what makes it even harder to deal with.