The journey of decades: It always gets worse before it gets better

You know, it's been two decades since I survived cancer. I finished chemotherapy in April (I think?) of 2002. I don't know the exact date or anything. But I do know that at this point 20 years ago, I definitely didn't have cancer in my body anymore. I began the phase of tests and check-ups to make sure it stayed that way--and that phase continued for years, but the tests always came back clear. 

I have been wanting to write about it. I've reflected and thought about this anniversary a lot--especially as three of my friends have gotten cancer this year, and that hit me hard (they are all doing okay for now). Over the years I have begun to know how to care for myself when a loved one gets cancer, but it took a while. I have to go and be alone. I have to eat comfort food, watch a familiar movie, spend some time praying and crying out to God, and just curl up and weep on the person's behalf. That is my new routine. It's the only thing to do. Because I know what they will go through, and because all my survivor's guilt comes up. It just does. 

Then today, I saw a picture of myself from after I had finished chemo. No hair. Already healthy again, but still bald and wearing a bandana. And I had forgotten how tiny and young I was back then. I often forget that, because I remember so much about it and because I matured so much from the experience of having cancer as a ten-year-old. 

For some people, cancer strips you down to zero and then you have to build back up. But for me as a childhood cancer survivor, cancer is at the very foundation of who I am as a person. There wasn't much there yet since I was so young. It opened up a well of empathy inside of me for others, for which I am grateful. My illness helped me face the realities of the world, and it helped me know that I am small. I faced my own mortality, and I understood then that knowing Jesus is worthwhile. It was the beginning of my faith. I never looked back from any of those things. I understood from then on that there is always hope. There is. And that is partially what sustained me throughout the past decade of my life--my twenties, which were unfortunately marked by tragedies, health issues, grief, mental illness struggles, and often feeling stuck. 

The first time I was hospitalized in a psychiatric ward (in January 2013), I remember I felt like God was practically whispering to my heart, "Someday we are going to tell your story and people are going to listen." I didn't audibly hear this voice, but I also knew it didn't come from me. However, I also know that it was going to be a terrifying process to share what I was going through right then, but I knew that this was bigger than me. I knew this was a story that needed to be shared--and several more divine moments happened that confirmed that. I started writing.

What I didn't know back in 2013 was that the journey was about 7 years from being over. I was still right in the middle of the story, and things were going to get a lot worse before they got better--kind of like if you were to try and reorganize your house in a day, but you ended up making a bigger mess. 

In 2022, I'm getting to a place where my "house" (read: life) is finally starting the look the way I hoped it might back in 2013 when everything got thrown off course by a major...remodel, we'll call it. Back then I was a junior in college. I'm essentially a junior in college again, although I kind of had to start over in some ways. I'm doing a lot better this time around. And here is the reason I'm writing this post: 

Next year when I finally graduate from college, after a 10-year detour, I'm going to take the time to write the story. It has actually fully concluded now (the part I want in the book), but I have to dedicate some serious time to writing it. It's a doozy. I really can't wait to share it. I'm writing bits and pieces all the time, but it's going to take a bit to put it all together, so I'm thinking I'll take about a year to split my time between writing and dog training, and then go from there. 

As I have now completed three full decades and I enter the fourth decade of my life, I am hopeful. I know there will always be challenges, illnesses, losses, and grief. There will also always be births, weddings, celebrations, graduations, anniversaries, lots of laughter, and time to dance (you can always find time to laugh and dance, baby!). I plan to choose hope as often as I can. Perhaps every day? 

That would be a good goal, I think. 

Sincerely,

Haley