Blast from the Past

This afternoon on my commute home, I was listening to a random WMA playlist I created in 2005. At the time I was 4 years out from losing my best friend and fiancé to metastatic melanoma (July 23, 2001 -- RIP). I had been out of school for 2 years and had my current job for about a year. I had yet to meet my husband. The songs I chose for this playlist seem completely random; I've got Incubus, Nickelback, and Default playing right after Faith Hill, SheDaisy, and Rascal Flatts, then I've got the Beatles and Creed playing after Allison Kraus and Nickel Creek. Yet, when I listen to the music in this seemingly random playlist, I return to some of the emotions I struggled with during those times. Honestly, the emotions I'm struggling with now are pretty similar. Then, as now, the words of Creed's Six Feet from the Edge keep reverberating through my mind, "Now that its over, reflecting on all of my mistakes, I thought I found the road to somewhere, somewhere in His grace. I cried out, 'Heaven save me,' but I'm down to one last breath, and with it let me say, let me say... Hold me now, I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking, 'maybe six feet ain't so far down'."

In 2005, like now, from the outside everything seemed normal. Strangers and aquantances saw a young woman going through life with a smile. True friends and family saw that behind the smile lurk tears of loss, sadness, despair, and insecurity. Physically I looked fairly well put together. I still eschew make-up for the most part. My hair was even similarly styled, which is to say unstyled. The 7 years since I arranged that playlist have been filled with momentous changes: marriage to my new best friend, my mom's cancer diagnosis, creation of 6 souls (even though only 2 made it to birth), my cancer diagnosis and subsequent fight for a healthy body. Yet, here I am, fighting the same inner demons I thought I'd vanquished.

Then, I was still reeling from my fiance's death even though the general population thought I'd grieved enough. Now, I'm still reeling from the loss of my relatively healthy body even though the general population thinks I'm "cured". The general opinion that I should be further along in my recovery never ceases to erode my self-confidence--just as it did then. However, when I parked my car in my driveway this afternoon, the biggest differences in then verses now were dancing on my back porch: Andrew, Simon, and Rachel. Earlier this evening, as Andrew hugged me as I silently wept, first Rachel, and then Simon climbed into our arms. With two active, healthy, and compassionate children like them, there is no time to wallow in tears. Even though my life is still in tatters, watching my two children interact with one another and us weaves the fabric of my life back into one piece. Oh, the mended places are still weak and prone to tears, but the overall effect is one of wholeness. Combining the theraputic effect of my children and husband with the graces from my Father in Heaven is the only way I'm able to continue on mending my tattered life time and time again.

To me it seems as though I'm constantly begging for your prayers and intercession for the bombshells that shred the tapestry of my life. I feel like a whiner and drama-queen at times because it seems as though there is *always* something devastating to me. When others tell me I'm strong, an inspiration, or some-such, the bleakness in my mind doesn't receive the soothing effects of the words. All I see is that once again, I'm humbled to have to beg for more prayers for the seemingly endless string of catastrophes in my life. I don't see strength in my actions, I only see that I have two choices: to completely give up or to continue to fight even though I am weak. I don't see the inspiration in my struggles because I know that at times I ask God to just release me from my prison. Yet, deep down, I know that God and you are pulling for me. Even when all I see are the solid bars of my prison, you ask God to light me from above, and He does. Oh, sometimes I don't see the light because I'm too busy closing my eyes to fight the darkness. Eventually, I open my eyes and see a new day where the bars of my prison turn into a ladder out of the depths of despair. This wouldn't be possible without intercession from you here on earth, the Saints in Heaven, and God's will. So here I am, asking for your intercession once again... Please hold me in your thoughts an prayers because I know that is how I've made it this long. Thank you!

Under My Smile

The last three years have been doozies. From recovering from a life-threatening miscarriage to conceiving again within a month... From waiting to pass the first magic 12 weeks of pregnancy to being diagnosed with breast cancer at 20 weeks... From the mind-numbing terror of the unknown as I embarked on my miracle journey to treat my cancer while maintaining my pregnancy to delivering a healthy baby girl... From beginning new chemotherapy to cutting it short due to an allergic reaction... From my mastectomy to my ill-fated oophorectomy... From my ill-fated reconstruction to my journey through pain management... From my final reconstruction to a diagnosis of brachial plexopathy... From a diagnosis of thoracic outlet syndrome to surgery to correct it... From my daily struggle to deal with the pain associated to continued physical therapy. The list goes on and on. 

At each juncture, I've wondered if I was strong enough to continue. In the back of my mind is always that frightened child who clings to safety, but publicly displays strength and even humor at life's twists and turns. At times, I let the frightened child express herself through this blog, on the shoulder of my dear husband, at the bosom of my mother, or in the dark during my prayers. There have been countless instances of asking myself whether I'm capable of going on. In these dark moments I try to cling to the Light that is God. Yet sometimes, the darkness is so overwhelming that I can't find the light. Sometimes the voices of others around me drag me into the depths of despair by casting doubts upon me.

This last is, without a doubt, the most difficult hurdle I face. When others cast aspersions upon me, the choices I've had to make, the realities of my every day life, and the tiny fraction of my life they know about. At this point, it doesn't take much to make me doubt myself. Honestly, it has never taken much, but as I struggle with finding the Light in the darkness around me, the smallest doubt can cast me into the depths of despair. There are undoubtably those who think my journey has been too long, too public, and too improbable. These are the ones who hurt me the most -- especially when they're in the guise of people I respected and liked. It is an utter betrayal to go from wishing me well to constant questioning. When a pat on the back is really a feel for the softest place to twist the knife, the anticipation is palpable. 

Sometimes I wonder where I went wrong. How should I have presented this journey to let outsiders know the truth? Did I make light of my struggles too often? Do I appear too "healthy" to be dealing with my situation? Am I too happy to have such a situation? When I make the best of my situation do I appear to be lying about my struggles? Is it possible for someone who has never experienced this type of journey to understand my journey? In dealing with some of these outsiders, I have run the gamut of discussing in-depth each step to very brief updates on a need to know basis. I am still questioned and suspected of wrong-doing regardless of the tact I take. When this is all over, I hope to be able to ask, "When did your perspective of my situation change from compassionate to suspicious? What did I do, or not do, that tipped the scales against me? Was this ending inevitable from the start, or was there a turning point I was unaware of?" Every time I think I've found peace with my situation, the knife is twisted a little bit more. Every time I think I'm handing things well, something will happen and the rules will change. I wish I had the rule-book, so I could follow it... That's what I'm good at, being pedantic: following rules. 

There are many things I would like to wish away. Some things I wish for aren't even that big of a deal, but have changed my life dramatically. For instance, after my last reconstruction, I gained a huge scar around my waist. The feeling in this area is a strange mix of numbness, tightness, pain, and just plain old irritation. This isn't life-threatening, but it has been life altering because now I find myself wearing dresses almost exclusively. While I admit that wearing dresses in the 100 degrees or more heat of summer is cooler than shorts or capris, dresses have never been my first choice as my wardrobe. Yet, the feeling of pants around my waist combined with the difficulty of using my bad arm to pull them up has necessitated the wardrobe change. On the surface, it looks as if I just chose to change my style. In reality, I have a closet full of clothing I can't stand to wear because I can't stand the sensations and difficulties of wearing them. 

Again, I choose to describe an outward sign of my struggle instead of delving into the inner scars that hurt far more. Describing the inner scars takes more courage than I have. Putting those inner scars on display leaves me much more vulnerable to further cutting words and misunderstandings. It would also make them more real and undeniable. When I look at myself I see all the visible scars, but it is really the inner scars that are invisible that cause the most pain and agony. But to enumerate them and describe them would put faces to them to haunt me further. There is no aspect of my life that my journey has not touched. 

O Master, grant that I may never seek so much to be consoled as to console, to be understood as to understand, to be loved as to love with all my soul. ~ the song of St Francis

Although I do wish to be consoled, understood, and loved, I put all this out in the cyber world so that others may identify with these struggles and feel that they have a partner in their own journey. It is in living this struggle that I hope others can find the strength within themselves to live through their struggles. 

Without the burden of afflictions it is impossible to reach the height of grace. The gift of grace increases as the struggle increases. ~ St Rose of Lima

I wish...

I'm coming up on my three year cancer-versary and although I can happily say I'm cancer-free, I can't say that I'm healed. Sometimes I honestly look at my life now compared to my life before cancer and wonder if treating my cancer was worth it. The chemo and first surgery were cake-walks compared to what I still face. Then Rachel walks up to me with her chocolate drop eyes and sweet lispy voice to say, "I love you." Simon, not one to be out-done, comes over too with similar chocolate drop eyes and clear voice to say he loves me too. Andrew will glance over and give me a half smile -- a wordless way of letting me know he loves me too. They are the reason I am still fighting so hard. Without them I don't know what I'd be. All I know is that they give me the strength to continue fighting this seemingly endless battle. 

I feel so vulnerable sharing here, knowing that there are some in my audience who pass judgement on me. There are those who think I exploit my cancer-while-pregnant-at-28 years old. There are those who think that I look basically like I did before my diagnosis, so what's the big deal? There are those that see how well I cope with the aftermath, but don't realize I'm coping. There are those that think I've become used to staying home, but don't really need the time I take. There are those who think I've taken advantage of them and short-changed my obligation to them. These people see the photos I post, the smiles I force, the fun stories I tell, and the much abbreviated explanations of my continuing issues. Instead of asking for clarification, they'd rather talk behind my back and conspire against me. Instead of giving me compassion and the benefit of the doubt, they ignore medical facts presented to them and label me unwilling. I should know by now that nothing I say, do, or write will ever change their opinion. Yet, I continue to struggle not only medically, but also with these people for my sanity, life, and family. 

I'm so frightened of change. I wish I could just face my detractors to say, "Take your ignorance and keep it." Instead I lower my head to plod onward. I push myself until the pain is too great. I do my physical therapy as I continue through the day, just to prove my detractors wrong and to try to get a couple more useful hours out of the day. I force a smile when I feel like crying in frustration and pain. I've been told repeatedly to leave my troubles at home. I've also been told to be the best me I can be, detractors be ignored. I try, I really do, but deep down I am a soft-hearted, obstinate, honest, sincere, hard-working, try-my-best, people-pleasing kind of person. I can no more leave my troubles at home than I can leave my left arm (which would be awesome). So I'm left in a quandary... Who do I please, displease, or just ignore? 

There are times like now that I wish I were a stronger person. I wish I could exert my will and say the heck with everyone else. I wish I could cry in front of those who doubt my sincerity when the pain is too great. I wish I could fully express the agony I go through on a daily basis. I wish I could take the easy route and not feel guilty for giving up. I wish I could turn back the clock and leave this part of my life out of the equation. As the old saying goes, "If wishes were horses, then beggars would ride." I'm definitely not riding.

I am who I am, how I am, what I am, and where I am for a reason. I just wish I knew what that reason was. Thank you for 'listening'. God bless you and prevent you from experiencing even a small portion of what I have.