This body of mine is keeping me awake again. But that’s not news. That’s every night around 3:30 AM-5AM or 4:30AM-6AM or 1:30AM-3AM. As far as insomnia goes, it is very reasonable and probably not insomnia at all.
But still, it helps if I write.
Therefore, I am writing.
Today I received a lovely bouquet from work. A thank you for everything kind of bouquet. It’s with white hydrangeas and pink roses and white lilies that are all cast against these large, wide folds of dark green leaves. Very pretty. It arrived via the delivery person and was a great surprise. Notably it was not a bouquet about my health, but instead about my contribution.
And yet still slightly bittersweet to receive, of course.
The past few days have been strange for me. Listless. With the impact of radiation being felt, I’m tired. Justttttt so tired. And yet not tired. Jusssssst so not tired. There are things I’d like to do, but have no drive to get done. My mind says yes, the body screams no.
Patience is a virtue in these situations, I suppose. But at the same time, I feel like I’m missing my window.
There are these windows when living despite cancer. Windows of opportunity that are between treatment and scans. When I do not need to visit the hospital 3 x in a week, and do a follow up the week after, and get treatments. There are these golden windows when life should be seized BY THE BALLS. Yeah, I just typed that – for realz.
Right now is that window of time. Except I literally just abandoned one of my life-balls-grabbing outlets, being my job. My amazing dream-come-true job. It’s bobbing away from me in the stream of life. The purposeful side of me is like, “WHAT IS NEXT?” and the reality side of me is like “YOUR NAP!”
But life despite cancer means pushing beyond the nap (or between them). I’ve been inspired by many an amazing lady in the metastatic cancer world to know it’s essential. And it’s always just been a core value of how I’d like to define myself. Please, as I have said before, never say I lost a battle against a disease – should it come to my passing one day – instead, say I live the fuck outta life. Because if life isn’t about more than this body, then what’s the point of anything?
What is next then?
More writing? More art? More social media exploration? More travel? More ‘I haven’t discovered it yet, but will let you know when I do’? Probably all the above in small, manageable doses.
I suppose at now 6:00 AM in the morning, it means more sleep. For now.
And then ultimately a search for purpose. A new purpose. The last 1.5 years has been for Amnesty. Before that, for my writing. And now… we will see. Once again, it’s time to redefine what I am through what I do. I see everyone around me working with intensity … and my instinct is to join in with a passion. Therefore, I must find a spark – however long or short it is to last (spark may be short lived, but if it catches, it burns!)
And I must be more forgiving to my body. We are one unit, even if I would rather pretend that isn’t the case when the pain flares or sleep calls . . . but we are one unit, for now, and care needs to be given there too. Compassion, perhaps is an even better word.
So long as boredom doesn’t creep in too deeply.
Anyhow, so the journey of who I am begins again.
With the receiving of flowers, it is time to start a new path.
And go back to bed.