Man, I wish my biggest fear were the things that go bump in the night.
But I am struggling. I don't think I expected to still be struggling so deeply in this way, at this point in my journey. According to my oncologist, I hit my 1-year anniversary back on diagnosis day, April 26. I think I'll still consider my 1-year cancer-free anniversary as the day of my lumpectomy - Oct. 20, 2021 - because that was the day that any last remains of cancer cells were cut out of me and a few days later is when my surgeon called and said we had "clear margins" and "clear lymph nodes," and it was only then that I actually felt lighter, safer, like a conqueror.
But anyway, all that aside - you'll remember those "anniversary" dates are so important because each year gets me closer to the "5-year" milestone, which according to research and medical experts, is when my risk for recurrence and the possibility for cancer to return to my body drops dramatically to almost non-existent.
I want to hit 5-years cancer-free more desperately than I've ever wanted anything in my life. I pray I might be able to breathe a bit easier then? Who knows if that will be true. But it's the story I'm telling myself right now. But I'm scared that in wishing for 5-years to come and go without lighting up a scan, I will miss out on actually living life these next 4-years because I'm so focused on making it to the next year cancer-free.
"Ok 1-year down, only 4 to go. Ok, here's to year 2, just 3 more now."
I don't want to look up and find that my daughter is 7 and I haven't really been there and present with her for her childhood. I would never forgive myself. I have to find some way to process through this trauma that has soaked deep into my bones. But my mind plays these horrible, vivid scenarios out for me to experience - the cancer comes back, it takes me away from everyone I know and love, the world keeps turning, my husband and daughter are forced to grow up and move on from me, I'm forced to watch it all happen from the sidelines - it paralyzes me, my throat constricts as the hot tears start to form in my eyes and roll swiftly down my cheeks. I am a mess. Why am I still such a mess?! I BEAT this f*cking disease... right?
I'm trying to come to terms with the fact that I am going to be messy for a while, maybe forever. And that what people see of me might not always align with what I'm dealing with in my mind or my heart. But that's life, right? We're all afraid of something. Last night my daughter had a tough time falling asleep, I think that this Halloween season she's paying much more attention to the creepy and spooky things and they're making it hard for her to settle down and fall asleep. She kept crying out to me and begging me to come in her room and each time I did she had this look of terror on her face and tells me her room is spooky and she's afraid. I know that fear, I live it every day but mine manifests deep under the surface where others can't see it or protect me from it.
But I as I sit here writing this, I think back to what I said to her last night to comfort her. I told her when I'm afraid I just talk to God. I explained that I close my eyes and take a deep breath and just ask God to calm my spirit and quiet my mind, to remind me that He's always with me and I don't have to be afraid. It sounds so simple, why was it so easy to comfort my daughter in her time of fear but when I'm in my anxiety and terror all I can find is darkness? Why is it so easy to forget?
I don't have the answers really, all I know is when the fear creeps in and wreaks havoc on my mind the only thing that I've found to quiet my heart and calm me are the words and truth of the Lord and the advice, comfort and guidance from those that have walked this path before me.
My main source of comfort right now is Lysa Terkeurst, a fellow breast cancer survivor and woman of faith. She wrote a book called Seeing Beautiful Again and it continues to chase the darkness away when I'm finding it hard to see the light in my story.
"Father God, devastating circumstances have left me so weary. When things in my life feel so uncertain, I am tempted to shrink back in fear. But when I press into the truth of Your love, it leaves me hopeful. Even when my normal gets hijacked, thank You for the promise that You are the same yesterday, today, and forever. In Jesus' name, amen."
- p. 71, Seeing Beautiful Again, a prayer from Lysa.
I know I can't be the only one facing spooky times, and I don't mean the scary movie marathons that are running nightly on TV right now, and sometimes it can feel next to impossible to face each day. But I do know that when we name our fears, when we write them down or talk about them with people that genuinely care about us - we take away the power that they hold over our minds. It's in the processing and working through these very real fears that I find peace and presence on the other side. And being present for my daughter, for my husband, for this beautiful life we've built together - that was the whole point of beating this damn disease in the first place, I'm not about to miss out on living it well.
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