I haven’t always loved words but they found me in some of my darkest day. Whether it was in the form of a book or a blog post I stumbled on. I recently wrote that words have power. More than one will ever know. I love to write, sometimes its a story, sometimes its an elaboration of a thought or something that evokes a feeling in my soul. I like sharing my life and my thoughts in hopes that someone, somewhere might read it and not feel alone. I share them because I believe in the power of the written and spoken word. That maybe if we all shared our truths and the messiness that is called life; maybe, just maybe it’d be a better world.
But. There is always a but.
I hesitate. What if it’s not as good as so and so’s. What if it unintentionally hurts someone. What if it make me seem this way or that. I could literally go on and on about the stream of thoughts I have in my head. For 12 years now words have been my constant companion. They’ve built me up and tore me to shreds. I’ve stoped writing because I cared more about likes and if I was good enough. I hesitated to share my journey with cancer this time because I’ve been so hurt by people who I thought cared. But I miss it. I miss sharing my heart and my thoughts. I’ve read several blogs and post from other cancer survivors that I resonated with that got me through that heart wrenching moments. I still believe it’s better to share than to bottle it up, but I see so many people who want to create this façade of this or the other, why not just be yourself? You never know how you’re true story is going to help some one else.
I love when I read a book and it sparks something in me. It evokes feelings I didn’t know I had. I just finished reading Far Cry by Kate Canterbary and I’m just in awe. I relate to the main character, Brooke so so much. The years I remember of my childhood were spent in and out of doctors offices and hospitals with my dad. Don’t get me wrong I never lacked the love or important stuff, but growing up with that leaves a lasting impact on my soul. In the book, Brooke is this fiery, fierce woman who has endured a lot and has learned to take no shit. But underneath it all she is deeply impacted by the wounds of her life. In one part she says “I’ve been dragging little red wagons worth of issues around since forever.” I’ve never had something sink in my skin the way that sentence did.
We all bare scars from the life we’ve lived thus far. It’s up to us whether we learn from them and allow them to hinder us or enable us. The past 5 months have unearthed past hurts for myself and my mom. Hurts that I didn’t know she had and hurts that I didn’t know really bothered me. Those are her story to tell and to work with. I tend to take in others problems, especially of those I care most about. I’ve lived a life where it’s easier to pick up and carry on than it is to sit with my feelings and allow them to teach me something. Cancer is a huge part of my life, as is my journey with my past. I’m allowed to feel the way I do and so are you. Know one has lived in your shoes but what I do know is, it’s possible to hurt people because you hurt. Cancer has taught me more than anything in my life and yet I hate it with a passion I didn’t know I possessed. Cancer is like looking in 360 degree mirror of your life. It invites feelings that you didn’t know were there. My soul hurts, my depression is worse than it ever has been. I have suicidal thoughts more than I had in my teen angst years. My soul is tired. Im tired of fighting this battle and carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders. I don’t know that I want to live anymore. I’m tired of fake people who make it seem like their life is perfect. I’m tired of the financial and emotional burden cancer has put on my mom and I. I’m tired of people who say they’re there but never really show up.
This wasn’t wrote to seek pity but as a reminder that words have the power that a knife never will. The letters and sentences can be the very thing that lifts someone up or bury them Remember that the next time you speak.
I’m up at odd hours now. I sit here in my chair and just admire the beauty of our Christmas tree. It’s old and missing some of its needles. It’s lights are missing in some places but it holds only good memories. All the ornaments are special, either they’re handmade or have a special meaning. Every year we would decorate the tree and then turn out all the lights and my dad would say “look at that. It’s beautiful.” It’s not perfect, but it’s perfect to us. I can’t help but think that’s how God sees us. People have such flawed versions of what beauty is and no matter how much we might wish to change that version, it won’t happen. If you look back at the centuries you’ll notice how versions of beauty have changed. It sounds cliché, but what we look like doesn’t contribute anything but outward adornment and decoration for this world. Your soul and your heart matter. People will claim it’s all in the name of health, but boil it down and it’s because you don’t look like everyone else. My point with this is, this Christmas season examine your heart. Your motives behind what you say. Be a little kinder, judge a little less. Love people like Jesus would; just because their people.
I dream of New York. Laying in bed by my window where you can hear sirens and horns honking and the occasional person walking by under your window. You take the elevator up to the top floor. You find the set of stairs that take you to the roof. You burst out those doors to the most breath taking view. You see skyscrapers and various other building with a view of the skyline in the distance and a view of Central Park. You breathe in the city. It gives you instant hope. You walk down the street and you see no one you know. You’re perceived only on first impressions, it’s the picture of anonymity. There you’re not the shy, fat girl. You’re the brilliant, stylish, confident scholar. There you meet a man who loves you and your body. He sees you rolls as peaks and valleys. Your scars hold your secrets of the past. He finds your bed head endearing and your need for knowledge sexy. You have friends that you meet at your favorite hole in the wall and they actually called you to meet up with them. You have a city that never sleeps at your finger tips. Full of adventure and fresh starts. Hope and dreams.