It has been five days since my last chemo infusion. I am still feeling extremely sick- but trying very hard to rally. It is hard to believe that a little over five months ago my whole world changed. But it did. And now, I am just trying to figure out how to make sense of what is now normal. I can get caught up in feeling so unique in that notion- but in reality, what is normal for any of us changes from one day to the next. What was normal last year can no longer be normal today. I think that sometimes pain happens when we refuse to adjust when things can no longer stay the same.
I thought I would share another page from my 13 intentions book. This page is about holding the intention of family. My days can become so busy- running late for school and work, quickly doing homework before dinner, bath and bedtime - impatient for the hour or two I can steal away in the dark of night to make art work. I want to have more presence in those moments I share with my family. Slow down and feel how blessed I am.
This is difficult for me because I am someone who enjoys moving fast. I am not sure exactly where this came from. I find efficiency to be beautiful. I have often said that the real reason I am so efficient is that I am lazy. The quicker I can get a task completed, the more time I can sit around doing nothing... but in reality, I rarely ever sit around doing nothing. I speak quickly and hate it when people request that I slow down. The world sometimes feels like it moves so painfully slow that I might pull my hair out. (guess maybe I should pick a different saying). I commented once to my daughter that I was the rabbit in a world full of turtles. She told me that the turtle won the race. (I am going to be in such trouble when she is a teenager). I had a moment of clarity a couple of years ago where I thought that perhaps I don't want to slow down - or stop because I am afraid. The moment I entertained the notion, I quickly dismissed it. I guess it was really scary.
So, how do I slow down? How do I stop myself from missing the beauty that is my life? I don't just think that this is something that would be nice to change in myself. I understand that it is crucial for my survival. My hope is that by learning how to hold the intention of family, I can make the first steps in being a rabbit in recovery and maybe figure out what I am afraid of.
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ReplyDeleteAs a fellow rabbit in recovery, I totally understand your situation. I still have the residual, "If I get this thing done now, I can take an hour later to do (fill in the blank of favorite downtime activities - writing, watching a favorite program, painting)”. Funny thing is, to me, they are all tasks. Things to "do". I don't even remember the last time I tried to carve out time to "be". I mean to really just stop and be. Granted, creative processes certainly help find my inner being, but even they are not the same as doing nothing and being in this very moment right now.
ReplyDeleteNow, after recovering from a good hard knock, I totally understand the value of a turtle. Yet given how the turtle is inclined to carry the world on her back, I wonder if there isn't a better role model animal out there for us? I'm kinda liking the koala. They're totally chill and not at all consumed with productivity. Spending my days drunk on Eucalyptus doesn't feel like such a bad idea anymore.
Sure hope you’re feeling good again very soon.
xoxo
You'll get there. My experience with breast cancer taught me that putting my own needs higher up on the list of "to do" and getting done matter as much as all the other things I had to do in my life. There is a need to slow down because the body slows down with the treatments and in the slowing down you are better able to see everything around you -- everything for what it is and not what it has looked like in a blur as you've raced past.
ReplyDeleteI'm almost 8 years from diagnosis and I've learned patience, I've learned to be more gentle, to take my time and enjoy the moments and just be in the day. If something that I wanted to do or thought I needed to do doesn't get done? It will still be there tomorrow. It's being with the people you love and making moments and memories. That's what it's all about.
And I was a rabbit myself. I'm much happier as that old tortoise.
Sending you blessings of health and wonder as you discover all the possibilities this disease has opened in your world.