In This House, I’m Working on a Healing Project
I’ve never been caught in a riptide, but it’s defined as “a strong localized current of water that moves directly away from the shore like a river flowing out to sea.” That might be the best metaphor for what I’m currently feeling. I feel like I was swimming along in my normal everyday life, and all of a sudden, I can’t get to shore. I can see the shore, I see other people on that shore, I see the version of my life I’d imagined for myself on that shore—but I can no longer reach it. The feeling is wild. At the moment, everything has changed, and yet nothing has changed.
I know that to survive a riptide, you have to float. To float, you have to relax, and then swim parallel to the shore.
Relaxing has never been my strong suit, but it’s never too late to learn, right? So, I’ve been giving a lot of thought to how I’ll go about swimming parallel to the shore. I know this won’t resonate with everyone, and everyone gets to walk their path however they want. But I’ve created some guidelines on how I want to walk mine, and here are the five I’ve come up with.
I am not fighting cancer, because there is no need to fight my body. I get this human body to experience, and I choose to get more curious about it, learning how to create a more conducive environment for healing. I’m intentionally healing the conditions that have allowed cancer to grow.
When I was little, I wasn’t allowed to say bad words like the F-word, but I also wasn’t allowed to say, “that sucks.” While I do enjoy cussing, I’ve decided that, for the time being, I’ll implement those same rules again. I will not say “cancer sucks” or “F cancer,” because those words feel like violence against myself, and I’m not partaking in that violence.
I am strong. I’ve spent my whole life being strong. I have the strength of an eldest daughter—that’s who I am. I muscle my way through everything. I know I’m strong, but I believe this experience is calling for softness. I will approach this healing with softness. Now is the time to see how soft I can be, and how much love, compassion, and light I can take in and give back.
I’ve always viewed the things I experience as gifts. This perspective helped me the most when my dad passed away. I believe it’s a choice to view our circumstances as either bad or good, and the lens that makes the most sense for me now is to see cancer as a gift from the universe. It’s an opportunity to make changes, learn how to heal, and better understand those who’ve gone through similar experiences (and there are many).
I know this is an opportunity to welcome more love and compassion into my life. It’s an opportunity to take in all the love I’m feeling from others and shine even more love into the world.
Together We Float,
-Alisha