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It's been one month.
When the cool air and warm sun hit my face this morning on our way to breakfast, the gravity of the past 6 weeks hit me; it has been one of the loneliest periods of my life for many reasons, but my journey through the darkness has been an interesting one and has challenged me in ways I wasn't expecting--life is really good at doing that, eh?
Anyway. Breakfast at our usual place never felt so necessary--a visceral parting of the clouds.
And I'm happy to feel the simple pang of hunger in my belly again. Relieved I can eat without force or nausea. I'm content to walk to and from both old and new places, forever an explorer of my own city. I've lost and continue to lose what feels like a lot of hair. I cry every time I wash it because I know what's soon to follow, but my soft bald spots are not the true cause of my tears. I cry because I feel a total loss of control--over my body, and the balancing of my emotions; my dark thoughts feel heavier than they ever have and all the trusty tools in my toolbelt don't seem to be workin' their usual magic.
I've had some of the most difficult conversations yet with the people I love, I've unveiled my darker layers and it's all been really hard work, but I've also been truly seen and more importantly, met by those (my) people, and we've reconnected where we had been previously short-circuiting.
A dear coworker caught up with me this week and asked how I've been feeling, how treatment went etc. When I shared my hurts and disappointments with her, I felt heard--because she met me there, in the shithole that is often chronic illness, and she shared her compassion and understanding through offering up her experiences with her own illness which I hadn't been privy to. It is a very powerful thing to feel heard, to be met at the loneliest parts of your being, especially if your brain has been trying to convinvce you that no one cares or understands.
Vulnerability and connectivity have taken over most of my brainpower lately in case that isn't obvious. As such, both my library of Brene Brown books and my journal have been getting a lot of action (insert Lee-Anne-style dirty joke like "one of us should be!" here)
I've also been delightfully lost in music/lyrics spanning all genres. Music has always done a world of good for me no matter what kind of wave I'm riding, but the recent Coldplay album release has breathed new life into me. Specifically the song "Champion Of The World".
Love him or hate him, Chris Martin has always had a special way of speaking directly to me through his lyrics and this song is no exception--I want to share it with those of you who may not have heard it or even given it a second thought. Because in one way or another, you are all champions of the (my) world, and my hope is that you remember that/it when you feel lonely, low, or afraid; I hope it gives you strength and births even more courage within you to keep going. Because it has done that for me.
To the people who know me best (and have seen me at my worst), I want to say a massive heartfelt thank you. Again.
For entertaining my silliness, for your ear when I need to talk. the. shit. out of things, for your shoulder when the tears roll, for the slumber parties, and tea times...but mostly, I want to thank you for never giving up on me even when it seems I'm giving up on myself; for challenging me in new, unexpected, and sometimes uncomfortable ways all. the. time. I truly feel as though our connections grow deeper because of it, and I definitely don't feel as lonely as I did a few weeks ago.
Thank you for seeing me, hearing me, and meeting me in the places it's scariest to go to. Because I know it's difficult for you too.
I love you all more and more for and because of it, and I hope you never underestimate the impact(s) you have on my life. And as usual, my overly sentimental heart will do its best to always remind you, the champions of my world, for helping me be a champion too.
Love,
L
When the cool air and warm sun hit my face this morning on our way to breakfast, the gravity of the past 6 weeks hit me; it has been one of the loneliest periods of my life for many reasons, but my journey through the darkness has been an interesting one and has challenged me in ways I wasn't expecting--life is really good at doing that, eh?
Anyway. Breakfast at our usual place never felt so necessary--a visceral parting of the clouds.
And I'm happy to feel the simple pang of hunger in my belly again. Relieved I can eat without force or nausea. I'm content to walk to and from both old and new places, forever an explorer of my own city. I've lost and continue to lose what feels like a lot of hair. I cry every time I wash it because I know what's soon to follow, but my soft bald spots are not the true cause of my tears. I cry because I feel a total loss of control--over my body, and the balancing of my emotions; my dark thoughts feel heavier than they ever have and all the trusty tools in my toolbelt don't seem to be workin' their usual magic.
I've had some of the most difficult conversations yet with the people I love, I've unveiled my darker layers and it's all been really hard work, but I've also been truly seen and more importantly, met by those (my) people, and we've reconnected where we had been previously short-circuiting.
A dear coworker caught up with me this week and asked how I've been feeling, how treatment went etc. When I shared my hurts and disappointments with her, I felt heard--because she met me there, in the shithole that is often chronic illness, and she shared her compassion and understanding through offering up her experiences with her own illness which I hadn't been privy to. It is a very powerful thing to feel heard, to be met at the loneliest parts of your being, especially if your brain has been trying to convinvce you that no one cares or understands.
Vulnerability and connectivity have taken over most of my brainpower lately in case that isn't obvious. As such, both my library of Brene Brown books and my journal have been getting a lot of action (insert Lee-Anne-style dirty joke like "one of us should be!" here)
I've also been delightfully lost in music/lyrics spanning all genres. Music has always done a world of good for me no matter what kind of wave I'm riding, but the recent Coldplay album release has breathed new life into me. Specifically the song "Champion Of The World".
Love him or hate him, Chris Martin has always had a special way of speaking directly to me through his lyrics and this song is no exception--I want to share it with those of you who may not have heard it or even given it a second thought. Because in one way or another, you are all champions of the (my) world, and my hope is that you remember that/it when you feel lonely, low, or afraid; I hope it gives you strength and births even more courage within you to keep going. Because it has done that for me.
To the people who know me best (and have seen me at my worst), I want to say a massive heartfelt thank you. Again.
For entertaining my silliness, for your ear when I need to talk. the. shit. out of things, for your shoulder when the tears roll, for the slumber parties, and tea times...but mostly, I want to thank you for never giving up on me even when it seems I'm giving up on myself; for challenging me in new, unexpected, and sometimes uncomfortable ways all. the. time. I truly feel as though our connections grow deeper because of it, and I definitely don't feel as lonely as I did a few weeks ago.
Thank you for seeing me, hearing me, and meeting me in the places it's scariest to go to. Because I know it's difficult for you too.
I love you all more and more for and because of it, and I hope you never underestimate the impact(s) you have on my life. And as usual, my overly sentimental heart will do its best to always remind you, the champions of my world, for helping me be a champion too.
Love,
L
