Remember in my last post when I said that I needed to get
through the heaviness and find the lightness that I knew was to come??
I found it. :)
I can feel that heaviness leaving me and replacing it is
sort of a rush of happiness and contentment. An expansion of my view of the future. The feeling that doors are opening in
front of me and the uncertainty of what the next few years will bring tastes
sweet and hopeful.
I’ve started my classes and my internship and the greatest
gift that I have received is that the response to my return consisted of
mostly, “welcome back” messages, or “I’m glad that you’re doing well,” a few
people asked how I’m feeling. But
for the most part, the surprise and awkwardness of coming back from this was
short-lived and very supportive.
I’ve been back for about 2 weeks and it already feels normal to be here
doing all of these wonderfully normal things.
Right now almost everything that I do makes me feel
lucky. Even the silliest things,
remind me that a month ago I didn’t have this privilege. I feel lucky to be in grad school
(although that doesn’t mean I’m not beyond excited to graduate). I feel lucky to slug it out in my
internship for a small stipend that doesn’t even cover my rent. I feel lucky to walk in the freezing
cold to the tiny gym at Pitt and spend my 30 minutes sweating on the
elliptical. I feel lucky to watch
Friends with my roommate. I feel
lucky to make dinner for a friend.
I feel lucky to wash my own dishes. I feel lucky to feel soreness in my muscles from exerting
myself. I feel lucky to feel tired
from doing something rather than
fatigued from a medical condition.
There’s definitely a big difference.
I think part of what makes this mean so much is that not
very long ago, my health was improving, but I still felt sluggish and
down. Even though my counts were
going up, I didn’t feel good. The
thought of coming back to school felt daunting and scary. I think part of me didn’t want to come
back at all.
A few months ago, I was searching the Internet for some
post-chemo exercise plans (which as it turns out don’t really exist, but I
really think they should), and I found an article on post-cancer
depression. It was written by a NY
Times journalist who was blogging about his experience surviving testicular
cancer.
“After more than a year of diagnosis, treatment and waiting,
it’s almost as if, finally and unexpectedly, my psyche heaved a sigh and gave
itself permission to implode.”
His words described exactly what I was feeling. That tiniest feeling of validation to
what I had been thinking was all the push that I needed to know that I wasn’t
alone. And I wasn’t crazy for
feeling depressed after having gone through this. The article states that nearly 25% of cancer survivors face
depression. I didn’t even finish
the whole blog post before I picked up the phone.
Going to see a therapist was one of the best things that I
did for myself during this time. I
got to be completely honest about my fears and feelings without worrying about
upsetting the other person. It was
a huge part of the healing process for me, and I am so glad that I took the
time to dig into what was making me so sad.
Because honestly, this feeling as I write this right now, is
totally worth it. I feel
great. And it is so much more than
my counts going up.
I think there is a little tiny part of me that didn’t want
to write about going to a therapist.
There is a part of me that wants to be the type of person who just
skates through tribulation in life with ease, and without professional
help. And the truth is that I could
have survived this experience without counseling, sure. But I would not feel as I do now. I would feel physically better, without
a doubt, but the fogginess of depression would still be with me. And I would push through it, because
I’m stubborn, but it would be hard.
And maybe I would have days where I ask myself, am I depressed? Maybe I
should see a counselor. But I
never would. I would just push
forward, through the heaviness.
Do you see the difference? Sorting through my sadness in Michigan means that being in
Pittsburgh today, I am here. I am not haunted by the nightmare I
just survived. I’m not falling
asleep still shaking from the experience.
I am not anxious. I am not
held back by suppressed emotion. I
am present.
I found this quote on Pinterest (obsessed, I admit), and I
think it pretty much sums up this feeling. Being back in school feels right in a way that I can’t quite
put my finger on. It feels like it
was supposed to be this way all along.
I am exactly where I need to be, when I need to be there.
Your journey has
molded you for your greater good.
And it was exactly
what it needed to be.
Don’t think that
you’ve lost time.
It took each and every
situation you have encountered to bring you to the now.
And now is right on time.
As always, thanks for reading :)
Kelsey
