Who Goes There

Today is the one-year anniversary of getting my diagnosis. One year since the colonoscopy that we thought would be routine, but which showed a rude surprise. One year since Lori and myself took a moment to cry in the car outside the hospital, and afterward going for Subway before starting the drive home. A year since I stood in the kitchen and made myself say aloud “I have cancer.”

Today has been a very different day than that day, and thank the Lord for that.

Today I played music, ate a delicious cinnamon bun, watched Howl’s Moving Castle (as planned) and had a nice supper at the home of friends. Spirits are much higher, as you might expect. And, on the advice of my counsellor, I took a moment with my family to acknowledge aloud that we all worked hard at getting through the last year, and that was worth noticing and celebrating.

Another thing I discussed with my counsellor was identity. I did mention last week that I’d write about this, and here we are! I described an experience I’d recently had where someone from church asked how I had been doing lately, and I felt like I blanked. I didn’t have any recent treatment news to talk about anymore, nor anything in the immediate future. Outside of that, I also couldn’t think of anything else about myself to say. Later, I got into my own head as one does, and wondered to myself and later to Lori…who am I now? I’m physically not the same person as before I started, and I’m sure that extends to the emotional and spiritual parts of me as well. So…what am I like now?

My counsellor assured me that this was an extremely common thing to go through, post-cancer. To paraphrase her, I’ve assumed the identity of Cancer Patient for the past year and now that’s gone. It’s very normal to wonder exactly what I’m wondering, and there’s no quick path out of it. I had already started keeping a list in the notes app on my phone about things (and people) that I love; she told me to keep doing that. Some folks in my position apparently work through a list of suggestions, and use this as inspiration to try new things and surprise themselves.

I’m not planning to completely reinvent myself. I think most of what matters to me is fairly consistent from the before-times. I still want to be open to new experiences, but for instance I’m not suddenly super interested in learning to drive a motorcycle. However, it occurred to me this morning that maybe my experiences in the past year can help me be more confident, authentic, and at ease in the world.

A few days ago I listened to an interview with a comedian. She talked about how, despite being well-established and successful, she’d found herself doing a show in a comedy club that was getting absolutely no laughs at all. She said the whole thing suddenly seemed so hilarious to her — she’d had successful shows in much bigger venues, and certainly wasn’t new at the comedy scene anymore. She described climbing down from the stage mid-show to sit with some audience members at a front table and actually workshop, in the moment, what was and what was not working for them and the rest of the audience. Somehow this got the room on her side, and the rest proceeded well.

Reader, I was astonished. First, at her ability to laugh at the absurdity of it all. To step outside of herself and the situation, and say wow, this is really going poorly, and that is very funny. Then secondly, the humility that it takes to own a failure like that, and the freedom that comes from it. She didn’t blame the audience for not ‘getting it’, she didn’t deflect and say it was an ‘off night’, she didn’t get angry at the perceived disrespect. She calmly sat down and examined the situation with genuine curiosity and interest, and eventually it got better. I’m certain she didn’t spend the following days beating herself up over such a rocky start to the performance.

I’m afraid of making mistakes, and I’m even more afraid of upsetting anyone and harming my connection to them. So many times I’ve held back my authentic self, or my true opinions, because I’ve decided to prioritize comfort and safety. What if I was able to just sit in discomfort, knowing that I’ve lived through much worse? Maybe I could actually believe that I can’t please everyone, that mistakes will happen, and that I’m able to take up space and speak my mind, because no matter what happens as a result it probably won’t be worse than having cancer.

I want that to be a part of who I am, going forward. I think it will still take a long time for me to get there. I also think it is worth pursuing. Fortunately, my counsellor reminded me that there’s no timeline or due date on self-discovery. I look forward to the journey onward.

^{just kidding, I’m speed-running all of this and will have attained self-actualization by next week! Should be easy!}