As a therapist, in some ways my business is hope. I see the potential in situations and people, potential for change, potential for solutions. I realize it is not only a large part of the work I do, but it is possibly part of my wiring, so in that way, it might one of the drivers that brought me to this work in the first place. I am a hopeful person and I am a champion of hope. It's fun too, when someone comes into my office and doesn't feel particularly hopeful, but something clicks when we are talking and they can see the potential for what their life might look like and maybe the feeling that getting where they want to be, personally, while it might be somewhat painful, we can sometimes have a lighter touch and even a little fun too while we get there.
So perhaps for someone like me in particular, a tough life lesson has been that sometimes we must give up hope. Not on ourselves, but in certain relationships in our lives. I had an old boyfriend for whom this kind of thing was easy - "Fool me once, shame on you" he often said (not to me, but about folks in general). "Fool me twice, shame on me." It wasn't hard for him to know his rule and limit with other people. It wasn't fuzzy for him.
So many others of us find it excruciatingly painful to 'give up on' or walk away from a relationship - even if it's proven hurtful or even abusive over years and years of time. I see this with adult children and parents who have been cruel and ignorant. I see this with marriages and partnerships that are abusive. I see this with 'friendships' that are backstabbing or undermining and I see this with sibling relationships that can be sneaky and mean. Or some permutation of all of those things.
A question I've asked myself is, "why?" Why can some people know their own limits and walk away and why is it so difficult for others? What are the personality traits or beliefs that keep us stuck with people (who might say differently, if asked) but who would probably push us under the water if the boat capsized, simply to stay afloat themselves?
To paint it in very broad strokes, I think people who stay 'hopeful' in hopeless relationships struggle with two main issues:
1) Not enough self-esteem, OR
2) TOO much confidence
And despite this difference, they have one big thing in common
An Overdeveloped Sense of Responsibility
People who don't have enough self-esteem take on responsibility in this way: "It's probably my fault that this relationship is bad. If only I were more perfect, more understanding, didn't lose my temper, were more supportive, etc, etc, this relationship would be feel the way it's supposed to. Maybe I deserve this kind of relationship. Maybe this is how all relationships are. Maybe this is the best I can do." This person also may believe that their mother or spouse or brother could have an adverse effect on others and uses their sense of responsibility to 'protect' other people. For example, "If Mom berates me, at least she's not berating my younger brother." Or, if Wife is going to be so unpredictable, at least I'm here for the kids and can manage it from the inside." People who don't have enough self esteem are hopeful in their own way, but hopeful mostly that they themselves will make some change and be 'better' or 'more worthy' in ways that will automatically make the other person kind, attentive, listening, and cooperative.
In psychology, there is an idea called 'repetition compulsion.' It basically says that our primary caregivers may have messed up in some ways that wounded us. Our psyche carries a compulsion to repeat the pattern of 'hurt' in order to fix it, heal it, make it better, but what we so often do is just repeat the hurtful parts without the healing. This is something I think about with 'hopeful' clients in hurtful relationships - particularly when I see that in their core they do not feel worthy.
People with too much confidence have the underlying belief, "I can change this situation, because I am just that caring, tenacious, strong or clever." For example, if I am seeing the Overly Confident spouse, I hear this person saying every other time I see them, "I think it's better this week." There is always some solution or 'new' way they've tried communicating, asking, or interacting with their spouse and they are hopeful they have finally been heard and understood and their spouse is finally on board with kindness and partnership. Often after this hopeful week, they come back in discouraged the next time - the new solution they tried worked for a little while, but the same old mistreatment crept back in again.
OR, the Overly Confident Person tells me, "I have a new approach. I am just going to focus on my self care and my well being and less on theirs. Things feel better this week."
Now, these are both resilient characteristics and healthy things to try. Working on varied ways to communicate. Figuring out your partner's Love Language and trying that. Trying softer approaches or more direct approaches. All of that is great! The first 50 times. But Overly Confident people in bad relationships can think of thousands of permutations and try all of them. Also, great to focus on self care. But if your partner is truly selfish or your friend is generally mean or your dad is most often blaming and cruel, self-care while in the relationship will be a mechanism for coping, but perhaps not a step toward thriving.
If you find yourself falling into one of these categories (low self-esteem/overly developed self-confidence) and find yourself in long term unhealthy and hurtful relationships, you may also find you have core beliefs that make you overly responsible. In fact, as I was writing this, I remembered advice I was given at a young age that profoundly impacted me in a mostly negative way - "Never burn any bridges, because once you do, it's too hard to build them again." On the outside, that would seem like sage advice, but for me, the way that hooked into my personality, I felt that holding people accountable was burning a bridge. That creating boundaries was burning a bridge. That confronting someone I loved who was hurtful could burn a bridge. I internalized that as "The health of relationships is my responsibility and I should protect relationships from conflict."
Some other deep beliefs that might influence people to take on more than their share of responsibility in relationships are:
1) This person is in my family and you never turn your back on family
2) If I don't keep helping or being there for this person, they might die
3) Men just don't understand these things
4) Women are too emotional, so I have to be the strong, logical one
5) The other person is really too weak or wounded or addicted or in pain in some way, so it's right that this feels imbalanced.
6) I made the commitment, I have to stick to it
If you find yourself having any of these core beliefs when you think about a relationship, you might benefit from looking up information about co-dependence. Taking on the full responsibility for the health of a relationship is co-dependent.
So, to go back to the beginning, here is what I am proposing. If you find yourself resonating with what I wrote above, I think it's time to give up hope. Yep. I said it. Give up that hope, put it down and walk away.
Ok, I know it's not that easy and what I really mean is this:
How would it feel to really internalize and accept the information that you have in front of you: Nothing that you do or don't do is going to make this relationship any different. This IS the relationship.
Now that you've accepted reality, what would it mean to let there be space in that relationship with your mom or your friend or your boyfriend? Could you imagine not working so hard to make things better or peaceful or satisfying for you in the context of that other person? Maybe you don't have to cut them off, maybe you just need to not call and check in on that person so much. Maybe you need to say 'no' to some of that person's unreasonable demands. Maybe you could spend that energy on relationships where there is a healthy balance of give and take. And if you need to cut that person off and it feels really scary, maybe you remind yourself that life doesn't need to be dramatic with grand statements like, "I'm never speaking with you again!" You can make these changes and shifts in any way that feels like you are being true to you.
I heard an interview on Krista Tippett's excellent podcast, OnBeing recently. She interviewed the poet, Nikki Giovanni, who spoke about having a dad who wasn't so great. She said (to paraphrase), "I learned from him that the quality of the love depends on the quality of the love-er." This seems like an important thing to remember.
When I say, "Give up hope," of course, I am being tongue in cheek. Keep hope in and for yourself, your wisdom and choices. Stop listening to your brain and heart and instead, listen to the deep gut instinct, the intuition, I believe each of us has. There is more friendship, love, and connection for you out there - relationships where you don't carry all the responsibility and you don't need hope, because the love is present and alive and in action.
Showing posts with label hope. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hope. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 22, 2018
Saturday, December 31, 2016
Endings, Beginnings, and Ferris Bueller
People who know me well know why I haven't been blogging this year. And several people have been asking me for several months to start writing again. As for me, I've wanted to, but also haven't until now, felt that I was ready. I guess I'm ready as I'll ever be, but I am feeling trepidation. I'm nervous for both personal and professional reasons - personally, I've always used my own life experience to weave into whatever it is I'm blogging or writing about. I got divorced this year. The pain of that, the nuances of the end of a marriage, and the deep changes that take place in a family are vulnerable not just for me, but for others in my family. If I choose to write about these things, it is my intention to do so in a way that is respectful of their sense of privacy and their healing.
Professionally, I have trepidation, too. There is an idea in theater of the "fourth wall" - breaking the fourth wall is when the character on stage speaks directly to the audience. I think of Ferris Bueller turning to the camera and saying to the audience, "How could I possibly be expected to handle school on a day like this?" As a therapist, there is a fourth wall, too. Most therapists don't tend to share much about their personal experience and there is an idea that the less a client knows about their therapist personally, the more effective the therapeutic relationship might be because the client will project their own issues on the therapist and through that projection can work through and heal from childhood wounds. So, by writing about my personal experience, I run the risk of my clients who might read this, feeling that they know too much about me.
I am a therapist, but I write this blog because I am also a writer, poet, and storyteller. I hope that sharing my experiences, thoughts, struggles, wonders, hopes, will help the world (and me) in some way - to help people understand one another better. To help us feel connected to one another and ourselves. And to offer courage. One thing I've learned about myself is just how anti-authoritarian I am. I don't believe that the therapist is this all-knowing wise person with ANSWERS. Maybe some therapists have some answers, but I believe one of the purposes of my profession is to help people find their own answers. Each person is the ultimate authority in his/her own life.
So, thank you for bearing with me through that long-winded introduction.
I got divorced this year. I've said it before and I'll say it again, you would not wish divorce on your worst enemy. In a generic way: 1) the legal process is nauseating - breaking a family down into measurable days and dollars, 2) there is the end of the hopes and dreams of two people who came together in a hopeful way to get married in the first place - the grief of letting go, 3) the changes to the greater family tradition/structure - holidays, birthdays, the annual camping trip to the lake, or whatever...all of that which impacts not just the two people who are divorced, but the whole family.
And I feel like I must share this to go on blogging/writing, because it will deeply influence my writing - what I write about and the lens through which I look at our human experience.
Many, many people express to me that they are happy this year is over. The election process was an excruciating one in our country, regardless of how you feel about the outcome. As a country, we are looking at many cracks in our social and political fabric that need healing. As a world community, it feels like there is more distrust and fear than ever. And that is not to mention the personal struggles that each of us face.
In my last blog that I posted, January 2016, I asked:"how will you show up for the year?" 2016 didn't give me too many choices...life happened and it happened fast. So, my answer to the question in looking back over the year is that overall, I showed up awestruck - in Webster's that means, "filled with a feeling of fear and wonder." With the wind knocked out of me, I was vulnerable in ways I'd never been before. I felt great pain, but I also received great help.
When I wrote in my journal this morning, I thought about what I want for 2017 and maybe this is what I want for my whole life - and that is to live free. What I most mean by that is to speak my truth - sometimes my truth is telling my story, sometimes my truth is sharing my hope and strength, sometimes it is saying 'no' even if someone else doesn't like it. Sometimes, it is playing hooky from school.
As hard as this year was for me, I can't say that I wish it away or regret it. This for each of us, is our one precious life. Each hour, each day, each year adds up. Maybe it will give you courage to know that I went through horrendous grief and I am okay. I love this life. And, as Ferris Bueller says, "Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it."
Onward, Friends. I'll see you in 2017.
Professionally, I have trepidation, too. There is an idea in theater of the "fourth wall" - breaking the fourth wall is when the character on stage speaks directly to the audience. I think of Ferris Bueller turning to the camera and saying to the audience, "How could I possibly be expected to handle school on a day like this?" As a therapist, there is a fourth wall, too. Most therapists don't tend to share much about their personal experience and there is an idea that the less a client knows about their therapist personally, the more effective the therapeutic relationship might be because the client will project their own issues on the therapist and through that projection can work through and heal from childhood wounds. So, by writing about my personal experience, I run the risk of my clients who might read this, feeling that they know too much about me.
I am a therapist, but I write this blog because I am also a writer, poet, and storyteller. I hope that sharing my experiences, thoughts, struggles, wonders, hopes, will help the world (and me) in some way - to help people understand one another better. To help us feel connected to one another and ourselves. And to offer courage. One thing I've learned about myself is just how anti-authoritarian I am. I don't believe that the therapist is this all-knowing wise person with ANSWERS. Maybe some therapists have some answers, but I believe one of the purposes of my profession is to help people find their own answers. Each person is the ultimate authority in his/her own life.
So, thank you for bearing with me through that long-winded introduction.
I got divorced this year. I've said it before and I'll say it again, you would not wish divorce on your worst enemy. In a generic way: 1) the legal process is nauseating - breaking a family down into measurable days and dollars, 2) there is the end of the hopes and dreams of two people who came together in a hopeful way to get married in the first place - the grief of letting go, 3) the changes to the greater family tradition/structure - holidays, birthdays, the annual camping trip to the lake, or whatever...all of that which impacts not just the two people who are divorced, but the whole family.
And I feel like I must share this to go on blogging/writing, because it will deeply influence my writing - what I write about and the lens through which I look at our human experience.
Many, many people express to me that they are happy this year is over. The election process was an excruciating one in our country, regardless of how you feel about the outcome. As a country, we are looking at many cracks in our social and political fabric that need healing. As a world community, it feels like there is more distrust and fear than ever. And that is not to mention the personal struggles that each of us face.
In my last blog that I posted, January 2016, I asked:"how will you show up for the year?" 2016 didn't give me too many choices...life happened and it happened fast. So, my answer to the question in looking back over the year is that overall, I showed up awestruck - in Webster's that means, "filled with a feeling of fear and wonder." With the wind knocked out of me, I was vulnerable in ways I'd never been before. I felt great pain, but I also received great help.
When I wrote in my journal this morning, I thought about what I want for 2017 and maybe this is what I want for my whole life - and that is to live free. What I most mean by that is to speak my truth - sometimes my truth is telling my story, sometimes my truth is sharing my hope and strength, sometimes it is saying 'no' even if someone else doesn't like it. Sometimes, it is playing hooky from school.
As hard as this year was for me, I can't say that I wish it away or regret it. This for each of us, is our one precious life. Each hour, each day, each year adds up. Maybe it will give you courage to know that I went through horrendous grief and I am okay. I love this life. And, as Ferris Bueller says, "Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it."
Onward, Friends. I'll see you in 2017.
Tuesday, February 3, 2015
A Not So Simple Pep Talk
As I was making chocolate chip pancakes for my daughter Sunday morning (combining three out of 6 items this child eats - eggs, milk and chocolate), and listening to Weekend Edition on NPR, I heard a giggly kid's voice on the radio. The Kid President was being interviewed. As his brother points out - it's a self-appointed position. Have you ever heard of this guy? He's awesome! Here's a link to his YouTube video - 20 Things We Should Say More Often: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m5yCOSHeYn4
What I love about this kid is how he clear he is about what people can and should do. He says, “This is life people… you got air coming through your nose… you got a heart beat… it’s time to do something” His message is about hopes and dreams and making life more awesome.
Some days - like random Tuesdays or after the Seahawks lose the Super Bowl, or in the middle of breast cancer treatment or when we visit mom and we notice that she's really getting forgetful, or when our child has a terrible temper tantrum before school - we need a pep talk. The Kid President is great at pep talks. I love the idea of a pep talk and there are so many people out there who are inspiring and innovative and are offering through YouTube or books or their websites or blogs, words of encouragement and wisdom that help us put one foot in front of the other on a hard day or they might help us do something courageous and bold on a day we are feeling good.
Yet, I know there are days when lots of us feel un-inspirable (I made that word up). We feel cynical. We roll our eyes at pep talks. A hospice patient I once worked with was threatening suicide. He was in his nineties and bedbound, but I had to assess him for suicidality. I climbed right up in bed with him and shouted in his ear (he was hard of hearing), "Are you planning to kill yourself?!?"
This is what he said to me, "Are you one of those goddamned do-gooders?!?"
Here's what Parker Palmer says that I really like:
For me, the ability to hold life paradoxically became a life-saver. Among other things, it helped me integrate three devastating experiences of clinical depression, which were as dark for me as it must have been for Jonas inside the belly of that whale. “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”, was the question that came time and again as my quest for light plunged me into darkness...understanding of paradox came to my rescue. Eventually I was able to see that the closer I move to the source of light, the deeper my shadow becomes. To be whole I have to be able to say I am both shadow and light.
From my own life experience and from working with people who are grieving the loss of someone they love - a simple pep talk often feels empty...when they hear things like, "he's gone to a better place" or "at least he's not suffering anymore", this feels empty and flat. Yet, at the same time, grievers long for comfort. Maybe that's how we all are - part of us wants to be comforted and part of us wants to wallow in our bitterness. It truly is a paradox.
Maybe life is simpler when you're a kid, but maybe not. The Kid President, for example, has osteogenesis imperfecta - his bones break easily and he's had more than 70 breaks in his life. So, while his message is simple (you can make life awesome!), he knows about this other side that Parker Palmer talks about...that we all have light and shadow.
To paraphrase, Brene Brown, hope is a function of adversity. We can't have hope unless and until we face hard times. Hope is a learned cognitive response - it is not an emotion. We can learn real hope that is beyond a simplistic platitude, but it takes great patience. Patience to sit through the hard times and our own eye rolling. Patience to earn our own hope: there are hard times but we are strong enough and the good times do come again.
What I love about this kid is how he clear he is about what people can and should do. He says, “This is life people… you got air coming through your nose… you got a heart beat… it’s time to do something” His message is about hopes and dreams and making life more awesome.
Some days - like random Tuesdays or after the Seahawks lose the Super Bowl, or in the middle of breast cancer treatment or when we visit mom and we notice that she's really getting forgetful, or when our child has a terrible temper tantrum before school - we need a pep talk. The Kid President is great at pep talks. I love the idea of a pep talk and there are so many people out there who are inspiring and innovative and are offering through YouTube or books or their websites or blogs, words of encouragement and wisdom that help us put one foot in front of the other on a hard day or they might help us do something courageous and bold on a day we are feeling good.
Yet, I know there are days when lots of us feel un-inspirable (I made that word up). We feel cynical. We roll our eyes at pep talks. A hospice patient I once worked with was threatening suicide. He was in his nineties and bedbound, but I had to assess him for suicidality. I climbed right up in bed with him and shouted in his ear (he was hard of hearing), "Are you planning to kill yourself?!?"
This is what he said to me, "Are you one of those goddamned do-gooders?!?"
Here's what Parker Palmer says that I really like:
For me, the ability to hold life paradoxically became a life-saver. Among other things, it helped me integrate three devastating experiences of clinical depression, which were as dark for me as it must have been for Jonas inside the belly of that whale. “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”, was the question that came time and again as my quest for light plunged me into darkness...understanding of paradox came to my rescue. Eventually I was able to see that the closer I move to the source of light, the deeper my shadow becomes. To be whole I have to be able to say I am both shadow and light.
From my own life experience and from working with people who are grieving the loss of someone they love - a simple pep talk often feels empty...when they hear things like, "he's gone to a better place" or "at least he's not suffering anymore", this feels empty and flat. Yet, at the same time, grievers long for comfort. Maybe that's how we all are - part of us wants to be comforted and part of us wants to wallow in our bitterness. It truly is a paradox.
Maybe life is simpler when you're a kid, but maybe not. The Kid President, for example, has osteogenesis imperfecta - his bones break easily and he's had more than 70 breaks in his life. So, while his message is simple (you can make life awesome!), he knows about this other side that Parker Palmer talks about...that we all have light and shadow.
To paraphrase, Brene Brown, hope is a function of adversity. We can't have hope unless and until we face hard times. Hope is a learned cognitive response - it is not an emotion. We can learn real hope that is beyond a simplistic platitude, but it takes great patience. Patience to sit through the hard times and our own eye rolling. Patience to earn our own hope: there are hard times but we are strong enough and the good times do come again.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
it's good to...hope
In the past few months, we got rid of cable and now filter our tv viewing through Netflix/Hulu. I do miss The Real Housewives. I really, really do. BUT. I am in the middle of the first season of Glee and I am loving it. I think it's kind of a summer thing - some kind of nostalgia for youth, but not like "Glory Days" nostalgia, more like an appreciation of youthfulness. I especially like Glee because the youth portrayed seems more believable to me than, say Gossip Girls (I've never watched it, but they seem way more sophisticated than my suburban St. Louis high school.) Glee's youth, at least in the first season, is actually kind of innocent and full of music. This youth is full of un-coolness, and a lack of irony. This was my kind of youth.
There's a lot that is painful and embarassing about it, but this is the thing I like about youth and I'm being reminded in a number of places - from the pool, to Glee, to the "bios" for my kids' zoo camp counselors: youth hopes. It might be frivolous, missplaced, or unrealistic, but it is hope! It hasn't been beaten out them. Remember the melodramatic scene in The Breakfast Club (as if there's only one melodramatic scene!), where Allly Sheedy's character says, "when you grow up (dramatic pause) your heart dies.' Well, it can be kind of true. Being grown up often runs the gamut from kind of hard to very hard.
For my mental health, it's nice to occasionally indulge in some of that innocent pleasure called hope and exuberance. Sometimes I have to seek it out because it's not finding me - I watch Glee or I listen to a song that conveys something awesome to me. No matter how cool or grown up I think I am, I get chills and feel like falling in love every time I hear "Don't Stop Believing" (Journey, circa 1981).
I think I've written before here that the Dalai Lama cautions against hope, because it reflects an attachment to an outcome. I am here to say, in this instance (and probably only this instance) I disagree with the Dalai Lama. I think there's something awesome about hoping - not for any specific thing, but allowing yourself, for a few moments to just hope. Who knows what the future will be, but for a little while, let yourself imagine nothing in particular, but that it's a really good one.
One last thought - I found a fun website that makes me feel good and interested, and I sometimes hopeful: http://www.good.is/
There's a lot that is painful and embarassing about it, but this is the thing I like about youth and I'm being reminded in a number of places - from the pool, to Glee, to the "bios" for my kids' zoo camp counselors: youth hopes. It might be frivolous, missplaced, or unrealistic, but it is hope! It hasn't been beaten out them. Remember the melodramatic scene in The Breakfast Club (as if there's only one melodramatic scene!), where Allly Sheedy's character says, "when you grow up (dramatic pause) your heart dies.' Well, it can be kind of true. Being grown up often runs the gamut from kind of hard to very hard.
For my mental health, it's nice to occasionally indulge in some of that innocent pleasure called hope and exuberance. Sometimes I have to seek it out because it's not finding me - I watch Glee or I listen to a song that conveys something awesome to me. No matter how cool or grown up I think I am, I get chills and feel like falling in love every time I hear "Don't Stop Believing" (Journey, circa 1981).
I think I've written before here that the Dalai Lama cautions against hope, because it reflects an attachment to an outcome. I am here to say, in this instance (and probably only this instance) I disagree with the Dalai Lama. I think there's something awesome about hoping - not for any specific thing, but allowing yourself, for a few moments to just hope. Who knows what the future will be, but for a little while, let yourself imagine nothing in particular, but that it's a really good one.
One last thought - I found a fun website that makes me feel good and interested, and I sometimes hopeful: http://www.good.is/
Monday, June 13, 2011
save the ta tas!
In February this year my mom was diagnosed with Stage 1 breast cancer. It's a huge relief for me to write that for two reasons: 1) though prose probably isn't my strongest suit, I am a writer; 2) one of the pillars of my own mental health is telling the truth.
My mom, rightly, asked me not to blog about her diagnosis, treatment, etc, until she felt she had a good handle on the situation herself. She gave me permission to write about this over the weekend, and I am grateful to her to allow me to share a little of her story and also my story as her daughter.
First the news: my mom's prognosis is very good - Stage 1 is early and one of her docs said, "your mammogram saved your life." So, ladies, don't avoid it - go get your mammogram! The type of cancer my mom had was an aggressive type, though, so her treatment team is being aggressive - she has had radiation and chemotherapy (she's still undergoing chemo) and a lumpectomy. In the end, all signs point to long term health for my mom.
So, I could blog a lot about what I've learned this Spring, the medical system pros and cons, the emotional impact this has had on me, but I think I'll revisit that another time - what I'd like to write about is my family's participation in Race for the Cure in St. Louis this past Saturday and what that looked like and meant to me.
My husband and kids and I drove downtown on Saturday morning at 7:30 to join the almost 70,000 people to 'race' for the cure (as you can imagine, with that many people within the 3 mile route in downtown St. Louis, there's little 'racing.') You know, in life it's easy to become cynical about and disappointed in human nature. I often think of the movie, The "Princess Bride", when Wesley says to Buttercup, "Life is not fair, Highness, and anyone who tells you differently is selling you something." It's for sure that cancer is not fair. But, to see nearly 70,000 women, men, children, black people, while people, survivors, every type of person, really, getting together and essentially celebrating women they love (some they have loved and lost), peacably, amicably, and with great good humor - oh my gosh - it was amazing! It touched me and made me hopeful not just about curing cancer, but about fighting the cancer of cynicism, prejudice, ignorance, and hate.
I'd blogged previously about some of the ways it concerns me that women's bodies are not as valued as they should be. This was the absolute counter to that. There couldn't be a more wholesome, sweet celebration of boobs! Again, I feel hopeful.
I think it is the Dalai Lama who suggests that hope is not very useful because it indicates that we are attached to an outcome. I try to learn all I can from every smart and holy person who is available to me, so I try to really feel what he says. But, for better or worse, I still attach to some outcomes; I am attached to my hope right now! Hoping for good health for my mom, and all people. Hoping for our doctors and researchers to find good treatments and cures for cancers. Hoping for more opportunities to celebrate in my community. Less fear, more love! I hope for that.
My mom, rightly, asked me not to blog about her diagnosis, treatment, etc, until she felt she had a good handle on the situation herself. She gave me permission to write about this over the weekend, and I am grateful to her to allow me to share a little of her story and also my story as her daughter.
First the news: my mom's prognosis is very good - Stage 1 is early and one of her docs said, "your mammogram saved your life." So, ladies, don't avoid it - go get your mammogram! The type of cancer my mom had was an aggressive type, though, so her treatment team is being aggressive - she has had radiation and chemotherapy (she's still undergoing chemo) and a lumpectomy. In the end, all signs point to long term health for my mom.
So, I could blog a lot about what I've learned this Spring, the medical system pros and cons, the emotional impact this has had on me, but I think I'll revisit that another time - what I'd like to write about is my family's participation in Race for the Cure in St. Louis this past Saturday and what that looked like and meant to me.
My husband and kids and I drove downtown on Saturday morning at 7:30 to join the almost 70,000 people to 'race' for the cure (as you can imagine, with that many people within the 3 mile route in downtown St. Louis, there's little 'racing.') You know, in life it's easy to become cynical about and disappointed in human nature. I often think of the movie, The "Princess Bride", when Wesley says to Buttercup, "Life is not fair, Highness, and anyone who tells you differently is selling you something." It's for sure that cancer is not fair. But, to see nearly 70,000 women, men, children, black people, while people, survivors, every type of person, really, getting together and essentially celebrating women they love (some they have loved and lost), peacably, amicably, and with great good humor - oh my gosh - it was amazing! It touched me and made me hopeful not just about curing cancer, but about fighting the cancer of cynicism, prejudice, ignorance, and hate.
I'd blogged previously about some of the ways it concerns me that women's bodies are not as valued as they should be. This was the absolute counter to that. There couldn't be a more wholesome, sweet celebration of boobs! Again, I feel hopeful.
I think it is the Dalai Lama who suggests that hope is not very useful because it indicates that we are attached to an outcome. I try to learn all I can from every smart and holy person who is available to me, so I try to really feel what he says. But, for better or worse, I still attach to some outcomes; I am attached to my hope right now! Hoping for good health for my mom, and all people. Hoping for our doctors and researchers to find good treatments and cures for cancers. Hoping for more opportunities to celebrate in my community. Less fear, more love! I hope for that.
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