The Worst Thing

This October, in the span of three weeks, my mother got diagnosed with breast cancer and my grandmother died. For a moment there, I fell down a deep well, the light becoming smaller and smaller in the distance.

It took these pieces of news for me to finally understand the familiar adages "be grateful for what you have," "live each day like it was your last," and, as I'd ride my bike home from work with tears in my eyes after learning about the imminent mastectomy, "you never know what other people are going through."

I'd of course heard these platitudes hundreds, if not thousands of times before. I am, after all, in the business of self help, the land where little sayings like these abound endlessly-but it took this experience of having the wind knocked out of my sails to grok these dichos down in my bones. Every time someone cut me off on my bicycle or bumped into me on the subway, where my response typically would be more of the silent rage variety, now, there I was bursting into tears: maybe this person is an asshole because their mother has cancer!

Cancer is the worst thing.

When I found out about my mom, I cleared my afternoon, pulled the blinds, and watched reality TV. I ate some ice cream. And cried. Wailed, actually. Just that morning I wrote in my journal, and I quote: "I'm so lucky there aren't any crazy illnesses in my family." So I guess it was appropriate to get a little love (?) slap from the Universe.

I told myself I would give myself the afternoon to wallow. The thoughts in my head were insane! Between projecting morbid worst case scenarios out into the future, and whining about my poor luck (how could something like this happen to MEEEEEE!?!?!?!?), I threw myself a pretty amazing pity party. I realized this was a familiar space--anxious, morbid, wallowing, small--and while this experience was the worst thing, it was comfortable. I'd been there before. I've disappeared countless times, alienated myself from reality more times than I can count. This time was different, because I knew I had to be stronger for someone else, in a new way. I got present to how much I still, even at 29 years old, still depend on my mom. And I knew that I could not effectively support and take care of her if I was still in that smelly old pity well.

Here is what I learned (am learning):

1. In those moments when all I want to do is hole up and hide, the best thing I can do is pick up the phone, call someone, and authentically share what is going on with me. In this space of connection, something new always opens up, and I'm left with a shifted perspective. I am not alone.

2. It's possible to experience something really shitty and heavy and awful and not end up at the bottom of the sad well. I could deal with the experience with a sense of lightness. And I don't mean a cheesy "love and light!" borderline denial of reality--but a spaciousness, an expansion that I'd never known before. Instead of following the familiar patterns, or running from sensation, it really helped to let whatever came up simply be without making it mean anything, good or bad. When I stayed connected to a sense of lightness, I found more ways of being open up almost effortlessly. I didn't lose myself.

3. This is LIFE! Beautiful things happen: babies are born, epic sunsets happen, love grows, opportunities arise, flowers bloom and milestones are marked; and all the while, people grow old and die, cells mutate for no good reason, jobs are lost, folks get sick. To deny any part of this, good or bad, is simply foolish. As much as I wanted (still want) to run away from this news, to do so would be to run away from life. And that is the last thing I want to do.

I'm sure there are more things I will probably add to this list eventually--but these are the top three that have most impacted the last two months. My tendency if I'm not incredibly vigilant every day is to isolate and disappear--something I'm committed to transforming, one day at a time.

My friends and family have been a great help in making this transformation possible-not only in allowing me to share myself, but also in sharing with me what is currently true for them. Another is writing this post: organizing my thoughts, taking stock of all the 'stuff' so that I may actually learn something. My hope is that these words might be of benefit for you.

So today! these here last few weeks of this slippery snake of a year, I am committed to turning inward, writing as much as possible, cooking lots of yummy food, and busting out the pastels.

I'll keep y'all posted about my mom :)