hourglass

Just barely a year ago my doctor told me that my cancer was back after I had made a full recovery from my bone marrow transplant. I thought I did the hard things and I crossed the finish line. But if this adventure was a hike I had barely made it to the trailhead. I didn’t even know if I would survive the next several months. I knew the statistics of surviving this cancer a third time and they were definitely not double digits.

No matter how much I wanted to, I was never going back to my “normal” life. But I really thought that I made it through the worst part. I was wrong, and I guess I celebrated a little too early. Even after achieving a third remission I had four different doctors tell me that I had six months to live.

OOF. That can bring fear, or that can bring freedom. For me it brought a little bit of both. It was very important to know all the statistics and facts about my diagnosis, especially the bad ones. I have felt that the only way to conquer the fear is to face it so I know what I’m dealing with. I understand that some people don’t really want to know and I totally respect this approach, but I can’t conquer something if I don’t know what it is. Living in spite of the statistics and understanding that it doesn’t define me has given me courage to face a lot of things in my life that used to be really hard.

 I am not trying to belittle the immediate threat of death. But, being so close to it creates deep conversations, intimate moments and it invites hard questions. I have grown to treasure these moments and respect the questions my friends and I have realized that we don’t have answers to. I have shared amazing moments and had very vulnerable conversations with my friends, family, and anyone who has invited themselves into this unique space that Micah and I are in.

I wish I could say that these moments would have transpired without my illness, but the truth is it has enriched my relationships in ways that “normal” living can’t give. It has been a springboard for me to challenge and face all of my fears. When I started pulling the layers back on what fear truly was, I was able to free myself from it. I realized that fear just didn’t happen to me, it was something that I was choosing. Once I uncovered that, I was able to start the process of letting a lot of things go. This started the acceptance and separation of what was in my control and what was not.

There are very few things that I am scared of anymore. Facing my mortality has given me the gift of courage. It also had made me feel like “I DON’T GIVE A FUCK!”. Uhhh yeah, and I have had to keep that in check. I can be honest but I have to remind myself to be polite and still exercise some tact :)

But one year later I didn’t think I would still be here and by some twist of fate I keep beating the statistics. Let me tell you though, if my emotional state was actually displayed on a graph it would reflect the most extreme “highs” and “lows” you have ever seen. I have moments where I close my eyes and try to remember what happened and it’s a blur. A vortex of what were my biggest fears, painful thoughts, and most beautiful moments all at once. I have had paralyzing fear that made me almost forget how to breathe. I have also had such extreme moments of happiness and joy that felt like I was outside of my own body. There has been a lot of emotional whiplash. I just wish there was a way to experience these intimate moments outside of this trauma. There are tender moments that can be felt and experienced during extreme moments of pain.

I wish that we could all be a little more comfortable with talking about death and dying. We have made talking about death so taboo that it is very uncomfortable for us to talk about it. But thinking about death and discussing it has given me the ability to focus on living, truly living.

But people facing cancer and terminal illnesses shouldn’t be the only one talking about death. It’s going to happen to all of us, and no one actually knows when it’s going to happen. Doesn’t this put us all on the same page? Why are we so scared to be around it, why are we awkward when it comes to talking about it? If we want to talk about living, I think it’s important to talk about dying, it reminds us how fragile everything around us truly is. That is what makes it beautiful. We have the power to remove the fear around the conversation about death and flip the narrative. It is a reminder for us to be faithful to what is on our hearts today, not tomorrow.

The dreams shouldn’t wait, now is the perfect time to cuddle or take the trip, and having meaningful conversations with those we love should be ongoing. The reality that this world is so temporary should push us to lead a life that doesn’t put up with bullshit. We can tactfully decline the things that we have invited into our lives that don’t serve us. But have to be honest with ourselves and be able to ask ourselves what we truly want out of this life.

This impermanence should inspire us to pursue that things that bring us joy and allow us to recognize that the moments that we’re searching for don’t have to wait. We can choose to participate in those precious moments now, at literally anytime we can create them. I have to remind myself daily that those moments are there and I just have to choose them.

I also use this clarity to remind me to seize some of the “big things” that are easy to put off. These are the dreams that you’re afraid to say out loud, in fact you might even bury them, telling yourself that you’ll come back to when the time is right.

These are the things that you’re burning to do but they feel “too big” or you’d be too embarrassed if you tried and failed. I’m a believer in preparation, but I have learned that for most of the major things I have had to face in my life or decisions I have had to make I was never really ready for them. I realized I just had to start before I had the skill or experience that I needed and that I had be “ok” with just sucking at something for a while. I don’t want to abandon my dreams because I’m convincing myself that the perfect time exists in a future that I’m not even promised.

I had to take the risk, I had to throw myself out there because I was finally letting death create a healthy sense of urgency. I wasn’t motivated by fear, I was motivated by the fragility of life. It made me understand that the perfect time is always now. I replaced my fear with the courage I needed to pursue things that might be considered impossible. Actually, I have grown to believe that if your dreams aren’t laughable they probably aren’t big enough.

Here’s the thing about time, it will never be on our side. It’s a resource you can’t ever get more of and you never know how much you have. This used to make me depressed, especially with my shitty statistics on survival rates. But I have been able to give myself a new perspective, I had to. If I didn’t change my outlook I would be mentally paralyzed by what “could” happen and that would steal the time that I did have. Nothing can take away the present unless I let it, and that is the only thing I have. Right here right now, this moment. Thinking about death everyday has given me permission to focus on what truly matters and trash the rest. It has also allowed me to look at time as a valuable resource and ask myself if I am using it for the things I truly value- regardless of what society says should matter to me. It’s easy to tell ourselves that we don’t have enough time, when really we just feel like we don’t because we’re giving it away to trivial things and events that don’t have a sense of purpose.

What used to scare me gives me the clarity to choose what matters today, be thankful for happened yesterday, and hopeful that I will get another day to it all again tomorrow.