This was written earlier this year as I awaited pathology results from a uterine cancer scare. It was a wildly agonizing, yet intermittently, transcendent space to be in. Within weeks, I got the indescribably welcome news that I am cancer free. Many are not so lucky, and have to exist with these swirling emotions as they battle to save their own lives. In this day of advanced technology and medical breakthroughs, there HAS to be an answer to this indiscriminate deadly disease. Give what, where and when you can. Donate generously to fund those organizations committed to finding a cure. Support someone who is suffering. Be kind to everyone, because their pain may reside in a place that never sees the light of day. And finally, live. Just live. And then… live some more.
January 12, 2016
I cry. A lot. I cry when I see sad videos. I cry even harder at the happy ones. I laugh until I cry, then I cry until I laugh because soon it may all be silenced.
I cry when I think of the prospect of leaving my husband and my children alone on this Earth. I cry because I don’t know if they’ll really understand that I’m still with them even in death.
I cry as I write this because I don’t want it to be real. I weep, heavy with the burden of lives lived in fear, and dreams lost too soon, because it’s all I know to do….at least for this moment.
In contrast, I have ethereal moments of calm and peace, like warm-water-slowly-flowing-over-my-body peace--light, expansive, whole, gently pulsating peace. Sandwiched between my panic, I take refuge in this intermittent Christ-energy that engulfs me. I feel blessed to take each breath….at least for this moment.
I’m ready, but I’m so NOT ready.
I’m swaying uneasily between wholehearted acceptance of my fate, and unbridled panic of a life left undone.
I’m bravely channeling my alpha one moment. And the next, I’m scared shitless and want to puke. I’m enraged with a world that allows cancer to exist, and I vow to never stop fighting….at least for this moment.
I want one more chance to force my humanity on the world (I am a spiritual gangster, after all), and then, like a wild game kill in the shadows of the wide open plains, my hope is hijacked by complete despair.
The agony threatens to split me wide open. I want no one to die, and I want everyone to die.
I devise in my mind a grand plan for a group suicide mission, as the divine theory of connectedness compels me to add to my chosen group in droves. My master plan is beginning to make Jim Jones look like a lightweight, and I seriously question my sanity. Admittedly, this group exit strategy gives me tremendous comfort….at least for this moment.
I isolate. Oh, how I isolate. I worry about missing those I may leave behind, as I vacillate between yearning for their present company and hiding from them, in plain sight. I realize I am, in essence, leaving them as I live. I practice dying, one tear at a time. This morning I felt numb. And even as I felt my lungs fill with air, my cheeks wet with tears, my shoulders sag toward the ground, an angel appeared before me. My soul mate, my leprechaun, my real life man-angel hugs me, and refuses to let go, until I finally open my heart just a crack.
Like a trapped animal backing into my self imposed cage, Tom finally lovingly, and patiently, coaxes me out of my isolation, the freedom of allowing myself to be loved fortifies me…at least for this moment.
He’s gone back to work now, and all I want to do is sleep. I’m tired. Exhausted. Out of breath. Out of life. Out of everything. A voice in the back of my head whispers softly, ‘Not yet. Not quite yet.’