2020. 2021. Countless social issues and unrest. Politics. Economics. Coronavirus. Social isolation and distancing. Masks. The list goes on. Just one of those alone is triggering and you lump them all together for a real recipe for disaster. But might I flip that script?
I want to be really vulnerable in sharing my own experience. This is in no way to discount the experience of others and the incredible tragedies that others are walking through, but I feel as though my own struggle is one I need to share though I may stumble in finding eloquence in my vulnerabilities. Even as I write this, it is 2am and I am struggling through another night of anxiety riddled insomnia and peeling away layers of the onion.
Peeling away each layer is also peeling away to the very core of me. And at the very core of me, there are a few things I can identify with certainty. First, God created me. He created my life with a specific meaning and purpose. From the day He created me, He also created the days I would live on this earth. I have no idea how many that may be, but my hope is that it is until I am old and grey. And if His plan is different, I have to trust that it is the right plan.
2020 was hard for all the reasons many experienced. A new normal of home / work balance, job changes, loneliness, uncertainties, and such. For some reason, the hope was that 2021 was going to round the corner and things would somehow get better in the change of a calendar year. And though we hit a groove in our household, it has also been the beginning of some of my own deepest and darkest struggles. I just started feeling off. First is started with a lot of brain fog. Then it became fatigue. My body didn't feel right. I finally made the appointments to get into my doctors, ready to check off my list the usual suspects of symptoms and check-ups.
Another layer. I am a wife, mom, daughter, sister, friend, aunt, and so on. All roles that I treasure and want to wear so well. And though I strive to be all things to all people and pour into each of these roles, I feel as though the role of wife and mom are the biggest piece of the pie at this stage (and rightly, proudly, and thankfully so). I adore being a mom to Thomas and wife to Jack. I work hard to be the best at those roles as possible. I wake up each mooning, proud to order up some sunshine for my son by opening windows. I find such joy in his every hug and the countless times he says "Mama" throughout the day with such love and affection. I aim to meet his every need, regardless. I try to be present in my time with him. We take countless photos and videos to document the memories as much as we can. We call or FaceTime our loved ones so much so that everyone gets a part in our day. I go to sleep at night covering Thomas in prayers of love, protection, hope, and God's promises. But it is in this very role that I also have my greatest fears. He is my world, and I his. But if that were to change, my heart would break into a million pieces. This role as him mom (and as a wife to Jack) is where I feel most at home. I want to be here to watch Thomas grow and make decisions and become the man God created all while holding hands with Jack to provide all of the tools to see that happen. But I have also seen that this is where God is doing the most work. It is the work through such uncertainties. I have to trust that just as God created this plan for me, He also created it for Jack and Thomas. I am a vessel of God's love and provision for them, but ultimately God is the true Provider. He is the One that authors the plan. His plan is always greater, even when it takes unexpected turns.
Dermatology. Check. Ms. Paula was more than gracious with me as she checked my skin. She is a woman of faith, so always a pleasure to talk with her as she is always so tender and kind. Two spots to remove but all checked out great.
Another layer. When I was diagnosed with cancer for the first time, I had to peel back some layers and peel them back quick. It all happened so fast and it was all such a shock. I was reeling from so many emotions from the various circumstances. God was (is) my refuge and strength, a very present in my trouble. (Psalm 46:1) It was then that He surrounded me with people to carry me through. He used those people to provide my care through my then roommate, other friends, family, to make sure I was well. He provided ways to cover the financial burden of medical bills. My sister made sure that my nieces were always around to bring me joy. God gave me the gift of Stella as a way to not only restore my physical strength but also to fulfill my emotional longing. His ways were (are) perfect. And though I have told my cancer story many times, I am now reminded that the story continues and that God is the glory.
General Doc. Hadn't seen him in a while but he is a real kick in the pants too in the best way. I sat there and told him that I just didn't feel right. Maybe I had a brain tumor. Maybe I was pregnant. Maybe I was dying of some rare ailment yet to be discovered. Patiently he listened to my every symptom and complaint. Ordered a BUNCH of tests, including a CT of my head to rule out the brain tumor. One thing he said as we talked, was that regardless of what may or may not show up in any of the tests, that he would do all he could to reassure me of my health, but also that I could and should acknowledge the gravity of the last year. Nervous breakdowns are real. And they infiltrate the brain and the nervous system, creating actual pain and real symptoms. It is something that can't be ignored as the body is using that pain to help recorrect course. And sometimes that course requires extra help whether it be through medication, talking to someone, or adding some tools to the arsenal to help cope. In no way was he dismissing my extensive health history, but he was adding a layer of a potential direction.
Deeper still. Peeling agin, I struggle to see that God did not bring me out to the ocean to let me drown. If his son asks for bread, will He give him a stone? (Matthew 7:9) No. God is the God of promises and truth. He will not fail me.
Chiropractor. Seeing the chiropractor from my youth was a trip down memory lane, but it also was assuring as he told me that I have full permission to hope. Cancer doesn't define me and neither should I let my fears define me. Rather, I can walk in full confidence and strength knowing Who holds my future.
Gynecology. All checked out. Pelvic exam, breast exam, mammogram, the whole bit. Good good good. She ordered a few more blood tests and said that it would help add pieces to my puzzle and assured me that if my CA-125 number had changed from a few weeks back, it would all be good since we are staying on top of it. (Again, check the box for a great doctor trying to assure me in this journey.) This doctor had a kind heart too and at the conclusion of our visit, she said, "I have real hope for you." Cue the tears.
ER. Though my ongoing symptoms of feeling off (cramping, gurgling stomach, dull headaches, tingling, etc.) are all manageable, it wasn't until I was shaking uncontrollably and feeling the numbness in the right side of my face that I found myself in the ER being tested for a potential stroke. Thankfully, it was not a stoke, but once again, the doctor looked at all of my labs and said that everything is checking out textbook perfect. He then asked with all care and sensitivity if I had anxiety. Gee, what was your first clue? Yes, I have dealt with anxiety which can be really terrifying as you don't know if your paid heartbeat is panic or a heart attack. If your shaking is nerves or an onset of a seizure.
I recall this last year, my dear friend from junior high school, Ashley, saying that the tightness in the chest, the heaviness in our steps, the fatigue in our heads and hearts is truly a sense of grief. Living through this pandemic, we started adding in complexities our bodies were not designed to do like live distanced from others, void of expression under the masks, and having everything become a culture of cancelled. Every holiday, milestone, celebration would all become virtual (if at all). We have begun to live in little screen boxes with others with no opportunity for a hug or handshake. No chance to sit and share a meal or a meeting face to face. The effects of this are real. And for some, this is cutting deep to the core. I have not seen many of my friends in a year. I have had only one meeting in person for work this entire last year and it was masked and distanced.
All of this will hopefully someday make sense, but for now, I will put my hope and trust where it belongs.
