Posts Tagged ‘cancer’

Colorful watercolor

Mountain Morning (watercolor by Barbie Dallmann, July 2012)

Monday night my husband received test results indicating the cancer is back. Since then I’ve been numb. I know intellectually, but I can’t feel it. Actually, I can’t feel anything. I haven’t been journaling. What is there to write about when I’m unwilling to feel anything?

This morning I tried to go into my heart and find a feeling. The first thing that popped out was anger. I allowed it to percolate for a bit, just to feel something, but it seems like such a waste of time and energy to rant, blame, and bolster myself with righteous indignation. (Don’t get me wrong . . . I’m extremely good at all those things!) But today I have a deep desire to avoid that side trip and look for the road to acceptance.

Acceptance about the truth of the test results and what they mean.

Acceptance about the difficult decisions that will have to be made in the near future.

Acceptance about the costs: time, money, energy . . . peace, contentment, security. (I wish I were enlightened enough that those last three things weren’t on my list, but if I’m looking for truth, I need to look at that, too.)

So the biggest thing I need to accept is my own vulnerability, my own weakness, my own fear.

Oh my, yes. That’s it. Here come the tears. There she is, the part of me who is running from acceptance, the part who wants to hide from the truth. She’ll stay busy! She’ll watch movies! She’ll go out with friends! She’ll even do the dishes when it’s not her turn!

I didn’t go to the cottage yesterday because I didn’t have time. Really? I can still delude myself with that old excuse?

I know my patterns. I will research a lot, consult a lot, talk, read, analyze, and study. I will prepare myself to be strong and to fight for as long as it takes. “Never give up!” that’s my motto! That’s also how I disguise my fear. I wrap it in the persona of the Courageous Warrior.

I am grateful for that part of me. She is tireless and effective. But today I also want to acknowledge and accept the weak, hiding part of me. She is tiny and so very frightened. She could easily be missed. But without her, my range of emotions narrows to anger, stoicism, detachment. She is the one who holds the keys to compassion, creativity, possibility, and trust.

And so I recommit to my intention for 2013, uneasy but willing to explore a new way of being in the world: accepting.

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