Topic: Reflections again.
It’s very easy to forget that a year ago, I was beginning my second phase of chemotherapy. (Yay cycles 7-14!) Sometimes even now I forget that I had cancer. Maybe it’s because I’ve conformed to “life” as most people know it: studying, sleeping, eating, hanging out with friends, having fun. I don’t talk about it and people don’t ask about it. When the subject is brought up - usually because they wonder why I’m living in upperclass housing when I’m only a freshman or why I have a 2 inch “turtle-shaped” scar in the middle of my chest - the conversation abruptly ends and another topic is introduced. It makes me a little sad - I do wish that someone could understand what I’ve experienced, but it would also mean that they were affected at some point as well…which would be very unfortunate.
But I’m not looking for pity. In fact, there’s nothing to pity me about. I just want someone to be able to feel - to acknowledge I suppose - what happened to me because sometimes I have trouble acknowledging what happened. Talking about it allows me to resolve, to celebrate, to grieve what happened last year.
There’s still some of that lingering pain. I usually try to end off on a more optimistic note because negativity throws me off balance. I see light at the end of the tunnel because if I don’t believe in it, I know I won’t continue on. I despair, but I keep it within me and deflect it through various other activities that make me happier.
But I’m afraid - life is too unpredictable. The more I try to control it, the faster it gets out of hand. It’s like the habanera from Carmen:
- “The bird you hoped to catch
- beat its wings and flew away …
- it comes, goes, then it returns …
- you think you hold it fast, it flees
- you think you’re free, it holds you fast.”
And so I’ve been trying to let go. Shit happens. The best test I’ve come up with to determine whether or not I should be concerned is the question: “Will this really matter if I die tomorrow?” And of course the answer so far has been a resounding NO.
But I’m making my life sound a lot more miserable than it currently is. I’m blissfully happy with where I am now. Depending on how well the next following weeks go, maybe I’d finally be at liberty to talk about something that I’ve long wished for? I’ll see…though I really don’t like being put through this anxiety.
