When John told me about his successes, and the business he has in the works that will soon bring him millions, I responded "I want your life." He told me he hears that a lot.
I was thinking about it later. As much as I'd like that financial success, I don't really want his life. Not that there's anything wrong with it. He pretty much accomplishes everything he sets out to achieve, he's independent, seems incredibly happy, and he lives the life he wants to be living. Sure, I would like to say those things about myself. But in my life, not his.
I shocked myself when I heard my internal voice saying "I like my life." Holy shit, what's that about? I had the year from hell, with my health. I hate looking at myself in the mirror. There's a struggle between desperately wanting to be in a relationship and not wanting to deal with men at all, not feeling like I'm dating material. And yet, I like my life?
I don't have the big fancy house I want, or even the modest one. But I have my condo, which I've bought, decorated, maintained and made a home on my own.
I don't have a man in my life, and rarely have that spark with the ones I meet. But I do have a few good friends that are there for me and keep me busy with a social life.
I'm not overly wealthy or completely financially secure. But no longer am I struggling, as I used to, and I pay all my bills on time. I never question which bill I should pay, instead of paying them all.
My job is not paying me what I'm worth or what the industry commands. But I've grown in the company and am working towards my own business that will challenge me to get there.
I will spend the rest of my life worrying everytime there's a pain or odd feeling, that cancer will return. But for today, I have no evidence of disease.
I cry, and feel sad and frustrated and angry and confused. But I also laugh. I laugh a lot.
So, if anyone's paying attention out there. I take it back. I don't want his life. I just want to accomplish what I set out to achieve, be happy and independent, and live the life I want to be living, like he does. And I think I'd also ask for the confidence and peace of mind to appreciate the life I have today. I think I'm on my way.
Sunday, July 24, 2005
Friday, July 22, 2005
Survivor's Guilt
"In the special case of chronic illness, survivor guilt can occur after the deaths of peers who faced the same diagnosis. By definition, there is an implied comparison with people who have endured similar ordeals."
"Survivor guilt explores the other side of the coin of why me? --namely, why not me? "
"Some survivors may keep a low profile to avoid spotlighting this contrast of outcomes."
"Survivor guilt may exist for a reason...It may help survivors cope with the helplessness and powerlessness of being in a life-threatening situation without the ability to protect or save others."
© 2004 Brain Tumor Society
"Survivor guilt explores the other side of the coin of why me? --namely, why not me? "
"Some survivors may keep a low profile to avoid spotlighting this contrast of outcomes."
"Survivor guilt may exist for a reason...It may help survivors cope with the helplessness and powerlessness of being in a life-threatening situation without the ability to protect or save others."
© 2004 Brain Tumor Society
Sunday, July 17, 2005
All About Me
I hate making this all about me but that's where my brain keeps going back. My mom just called me about an hour ago to tell me that my uncle had passed. At first, not a tear, and I wasn't expecting that.
I want to cry for him but when the tears started, it was all about me. My aunt and uncle didn't seem to have such a great marriage, until later on, after the kids were out. They did everything together and flirted and talked about their sex life like they were teenagers. They had their til death do us part. I want that.
And then it really came back to all about me. This could be my "next time." I take for granted that I beat cancer twice already. But did I? Does anyone really beat it or do we just spend the rest of our lives waiting for it to come back? Cancer kills. It may not have killed me yet, but it killed him. What happens when there's no more body parts left to remove through surgery? My chemo was preventative, what if I needed it to save me? It didn't save him.
And they're looking at me now. My mother told me how she's so grateful and gives prayers of thanks to G-d that I survived this, especially after seeing him last week. I fear his family will look at me and wonder why I'm still here and he's not. I don't want anyone looking at me.
But I need to be there and show my aunt and cousins that I'm with them, that I'm just like them, saying goodbye to a family member whom we lost to Cancer. And I need for a moment to be about him and about them and not show them the tears of what this means to me.
I want to cry for him but when the tears started, it was all about me. My aunt and uncle didn't seem to have such a great marriage, until later on, after the kids were out. They did everything together and flirted and talked about their sex life like they were teenagers. They had their til death do us part. I want that.
And then it really came back to all about me. This could be my "next time." I take for granted that I beat cancer twice already. But did I? Does anyone really beat it or do we just spend the rest of our lives waiting for it to come back? Cancer kills. It may not have killed me yet, but it killed him. What happens when there's no more body parts left to remove through surgery? My chemo was preventative, what if I needed it to save me? It didn't save him.
And they're looking at me now. My mother told me how she's so grateful and gives prayers of thanks to G-d that I survived this, especially after seeing him last week. I fear his family will look at me and wonder why I'm still here and he's not. I don't want anyone looking at me.
But I need to be there and show my aunt and cousins that I'm with them, that I'm just like them, saying goodbye to a family member whom we lost to Cancer. And I need for a moment to be about him and about them and not show them the tears of what this means to me.
Friday, July 01, 2005
Practice
She looks to her left and can only imagine what those women must be thinking. They've got no clue. Grabbing the end of her sleeve into her fist, she uses the back of her hand to wipe the tears away.
Her eyes go back down below, watching her daughter on the ice. A small smile finds its way to the corner of her lips. Not graceful at all, but damn, she's cute.
The big puzzle that has been left unsolved for the past 10 years is finally starting to come together. The pieces still need to be moved around and turned a few times to fit into place. But she's almost there.
"It's not about me, it's about her." That inner voice is speaking, telling her to look in another direction. "He wanted me here. He needed me here for her. He still needs me. She needs me."
Most people question "why me" when something horrible goes wrong. Not her. She questions why she was saved, spared; why she lives to face it again someday. Peace would finally come, if not. The calm she craves more than anything.
Another tear forms, as the blonde figure skates in a circle, trying so hard and smiling at her teacher. That little baby grew into this little person. And she loves and trusts and sees her mommy, and never questions it for a moment. Her daughter has no idea how lucky her mother feels to have her; how happy she makes her and how much more she means to her than to a woman who has carried her child.
But at this moment, this woman realizes that they were gifts to each other. She realizes that He gave her to the child to watch out for her, to be the mommy that she needs, that she deserves. And it was He that saved her, not once but twice, from the disease. The first time to await her birth, the next to continue to protect and guide and love her like no other could. She hopes that one day, should her time no longer be required, her daughter will know what an honor it was to have held that place in her universe.
Her eyes go back down below, watching her daughter on the ice. A small smile finds its way to the corner of her lips. Not graceful at all, but damn, she's cute.
The big puzzle that has been left unsolved for the past 10 years is finally starting to come together. The pieces still need to be moved around and turned a few times to fit into place. But she's almost there.
"It's not about me, it's about her." That inner voice is speaking, telling her to look in another direction. "He wanted me here. He needed me here for her. He still needs me. She needs me."
Most people question "why me" when something horrible goes wrong. Not her. She questions why she was saved, spared; why she lives to face it again someday. Peace would finally come, if not. The calm she craves more than anything.
Another tear forms, as the blonde figure skates in a circle, trying so hard and smiling at her teacher. That little baby grew into this little person. And she loves and trusts and sees her mommy, and never questions it for a moment. Her daughter has no idea how lucky her mother feels to have her; how happy she makes her and how much more she means to her than to a woman who has carried her child.
But at this moment, this woman realizes that they were gifts to each other. She realizes that He gave her to the child to watch out for her, to be the mommy that she needs, that she deserves. And it was He that saved her, not once but twice, from the disease. The first time to await her birth, the next to continue to protect and guide and love her like no other could. She hopes that one day, should her time no longer be required, her daughter will know what an honor it was to have held that place in her universe.
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