I am sure you know it, you've felt it. That moment of existential growth. Feeling that tangible wall of change that you just can't seem to push through. The one God holds in front of you until you're ready to accept your new self. Your evolved spirit.
These past few months have been that for me. The tight-rope walking transition of learning to live with the possibility of immediate life-altering change. That my mom, and all of us, could die unexpectly at any moment. I don't say this lightly, but as my dear roommmate pointed out it is the reality of existance. In fact, it is a large portion of what makes life so precious and beautiful. The contrast of death causes many of us to live our lives to the fullest of their potential. Mine stopped. It hit a wall.
For those few months of mom's relapse to current remission my life was on the back burner again. However instead of focusing every moment of my day on her healing I was paralyzed. I couldn't think, I couldn't breath. I realized that my entire defination of who I am is based on my mother. That my entire defination of my family unit was based on her. So for those two-ish months of constant fear of her loss my heart, mind and body were in constant awareness that at any moment I might lose her. The heartbreaking part of this journey was that I didn't realize what I was experiencing fully until now. So instead of drawing closer to my mom and those around me for support I went further into myself. I went to the deep, dark, ugly hole that is depression. I was overwhelmed by my lack of awareness and understanding.
Last time Mom was diagnosed I learned EVERYTHING there was to know about AML, Bone Marrow Transplant, even Natural Killer Cells. The entire journey was about getting her to transplant-once that happened my brain shut down. It didn't know how to deal with her survival. Not that I wasn't happy! I just hadn't researched what to expect with her beyond Day 100 (post transplant). Maybe that's part of why her relapse was such a shock. It's not unexpected in the medical world. If a patient makes it more than 2 years without a relapse they are much more likely to live a life free of leukemia. Mom made it 17 months. Her second diagnosis shattered me. I went autopilot and angry-defensive instantly. (Thank God I have an incredible sister who was able to fill in some of the emotional gap for Mom in the meantime!)
So there's my confession. My soul bared. I too am healing, as is Mom. I am starting to live again, one day at a time. Starting to remember how INCREDIBLY blessed I am in my life. A second (or rather third) chance with mom, an incredible team of volunteers, a wonderful boyfriend and roommates and friends, two jobs that I enjoy, the list goes on and on.
So here's my message to myself (and my wish for all of you): Take a moment to breath. Look deep into the interconnected webs of your life. Try to see which strings connect to each other. Watch the 6 degrees of knowledge and love infused. Realize the plan outside of your control and learn to love the mystery of it. Go bravely into the labyinth of emotions and self discovery, returning as a new and reborn version of yourself. Become the butterfly emerging from the cocoon.
With all the love in my heart,
Kate
My song of the moment: "Extreme Ways" by Moby (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sT6CXzgrWMg )
