It’s time to say goodbye, cancer. I’m grateful to say goodbye. So hopeful to not think about you anymore. So delighted to be walking on this world without you as my companion. A little sad that you’ve clung so tightly to my dear friends, and that they’re not saying goodbye with me.
I thought about going on retreat about you, cancer. My friends were going. They made me want to go because I could hardly imagine the three of them up there, without me, sharing their little hearts and making pretty things. Without me.
But the thing is, I did that. I don’t have a whole wad of tangled cancer questions anymore. It f*cking sucked. It changed me and my life and my relationships and my future. I might not ever accept that- it might never be OK, but I can live side by side with those realities without really thinking about them too often.
My friends are on retreat right now. In a beautiful place, making beautiful things, being beautiful together even though its hard as sh*t. And you know what? I don’t even miss being there. I mean of course I miss these dear people and I wish we all lived on a commune and had a herd of kittens to tend to, and that we had a barn converted into an art studio and a gaggle of children to play in the sprinklers while we sat at wooden tables painted bright colors and talked about life and sipped water with mint leaves floating in it (or alternatively, wine). But, I don’t feel like I should even be there, now, on retreat talking about cancer. I’m delighted they are there. I wish them all the healing wonders and support. I want them to feel whole and alive and brilliant. And I want to revel in their whole-ness, alive-ness, and brilliance. But I don’t wanna be there while they scrub away all the dead sh*t, the toxic crap stuck inside the big, gaping cancer wound.
So they are doing cancer-crap without me, and I’m doing the rest of life without them. I wish to all the goddesses we could all do the rest of life. We all deserve to be wholly, completely, and totally well. I’m still hoping that we are all gonna get that, that it’s just gonna take some of us a little longer than others (which, for the record, sucks). But for me, I’m just trying to convince myself I do get to enjoy this life where I am healthy, I do get to revel in feeling well, I can let go of some of the terribly, weighty guilt about being well. I do, I do, I do. Sometimes it feels so unfair that I get to have all this abundance, all this hope, all these suprising, exciting moments that remind me I am well. It feels like if we can’t all have them, I shouldn’t have them either. But then again, I remind myself I’ve only got this one precious life, and what is true for me is true for me and I get to have it all- even as I mourn that not all of us get to look into the truth and see health reflected back.
So I think that’s great and I think it means…. Peace out, cancer. See ya on the flip side? And by that I mean never.
I may very occasionally write here, but not often. Though many of you have encouraged me to keep writing, and have reminded me this is a blog about so much more than cancer, the truth is, the title of this blog is Chels in Cancerland, and right now, I’m just Chels in the Land of the World, and I want it to stay that way.
So if you wanna follow my writing, check it out here: www.chelseyhauge.com/blog