The World Behind My Eyes

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...

I’ve been extra introspective the last week or so—which is saying a lot, as I tend to be a deeply introspective person most of the time anyway.  Anniversaries tend to make me reflective though. Today (March 20, 2022) is the two year anniversary of when I discharged from the Menninger Clinic. That’s a psychiatric hospital. I was there for ten and a half weeks, from January through March of 2020. To say that those weeks were life-changing would be a huge understatement. They were also some of the hardest weeks of my life. The only people who truly understand that experience right now are my family, my treatment team, my fellow patients, and the friends who walked closely with me during that time (and since).  I have been reflecting on how far I have come since then and it’s astounding. I could not have possibly imagined where I would be now. I am on my way to living the life I have always dreamed. I am one year away from completing the bachelor’s degree I thought might be a drea...

Exactly one year ago from this moment, I was lying in a bed in a new-to-me apartment in Houston, Texas,  feeling nervous and not sure if I would be able to sleep. My parents had dropped me off that day with my luggage. I was there for treatment in a community reintegration program, and we could not know how long I would be there.  I can tell you now, of course: nearly nine months.  My treatment involved hours and hours of therapy every week--mostly group sessions with fellow clients in the program, but also individual appointments, too. I had a team of that worked with me, including a Primary Clinician, Individual Therapist, Vocational Rehabilitation Specialist, Dietitian, Music Therapist, and my Neuropsychiatrist. All of this treatment over the nine months I was in the program followed the ten-week-long inpatient stay I had at the beginning of 2020 (right before the pandemic began) where I learned that I had been misdiagnosed with bipolar disorder for about seven years a...

If you've been my friend for a while and you've been gracious enough to read my blog (which I've been writing for eleven years at this point), you know that I've always been candid about my journey. You also know that I've written on this blog quite a lot over those eleven years and now all of that content is hidden from the public eye. (And if you're new around here, then...welcome. Hi, thank you for reading.) I decided to take it all down last year after my journey took a wild turn last year. You can read about some of that journey in the post entitled "Surrender Before Victory?" that I wrote in December of 2020.  Part of being candid on the internet is that it's ridiculously vulnerable. I probably should have been more scared of that than I was, but at the time I felt called to do it. I still feel called to write but now the story has changed and when I look back at what I documented over the years I now have the new perspective that comes with ...

For the past eight years, I've chosen not to make a New Year's Resolution and instead chose a word/idea to focus on for the entirety of the year. I usually start thinking about my upcoming Word of the Year in December and reflecting on the word of this past year.  My word this year: "Surrender." Toward the end of 2019, I was certain my word for 2020 would be "Victory." I was moving closer to finally graduating from college and was set to graduate in May of 2020. It felt like maybe I'd finally be able to claim that victory after ten years of effort. But then again, I was in a state of constant, terrible depression. It started mid-way through 2019 and would not lift. In the fall semester of 2019, I struggled to get out of bed, eat, shower, brush my teeth, going to class, doing homework...everything felt exceedingly difficult. I absolutely loved the classes I was taking and the things I was involved in but I felt like I was drowning every single day. Someth...