I'm feeling stronger the more I am able to eat. Each day I have more energy to be active. Sometimes I overdo it and push myself beyond the limit, something I used to do before I was diagnosed (again) with cancer. I wonder if pushing myself "beyond" and experiencing that stress and overwhelm is part of what provided an environment for cancer to return to my body in the first place.
In my private practice I preach to my clients about setting boundaries, maintaining appropriate limits within relationships and with themselves. These boundaries can mean learning to say no, or taking time for oneself, setting limits and putting a cap on time or emotion spent on someone else. Life without limits can lead to overwhelm, exhaustion and bitterness.
As my hair grows back and I have more energy I feel like I'm rediscovering myself. While I feel renewed in some sense, I see much of the old ways coming back into play. Pete is having to remind me once again to "stop doing things and just rest." I've never been good at setting boundaries with myself in that way. So now that I am returning to strength I am nervous; nervous that I won't remember the lessons learned and will just charge ahead with life at full speed.
I'm also unsettled about the way others will treat me. It is simply amazing the amount of compassion and empathy that is poured out on a person who is ill. As for me, the amount of support, love and prayers that have been lavished upon me is so meaningful and healing. I appreciate it, I receive it with gratitude.
Even people I don't know are so very kind to me when they see my bald head. Because 9 times out of 10 we all know a person with a bald head is probably undergoing chemotherapy and/or radiation treatment for cancer. Seeing a bald head is typically as signal that someone is sick and really going through a difficult time. When I am a recipient of such directed kindness it causes me to wonder what will happen when my hair grows back. What will happen when strangers can't see the difficult healing journey I am on because my head doesn't provide evidence of it? Will I be an annoyance or simply just another stranger?
Because that's what strangers are to me sometimes. I hate to admit it, but it's true. I fail to remember that everyone has a story. We are all on a journey of healing, healing from one thing or another. The least we can do is remember that and to have patience with one another.
I was discussing these things and confessing my shortcoming to my mom the other day. She suggested, somewhat jokingly, "Maybe we should picture everyone bald."
While we chuckled about it we also realized there was something to that. The empathy that I tend to receive because of the obvious illustration of my journey should be the same empathy extended to all regardless of their appearance. I would love to be that person full of grace and compassion. I can be that person at times, but when I am in a hurry and the line is long, I lose all sense of empathy.
This is abundantly clear to me: I do not want to return to the harried, hurried and harsh person that I can become when I am lacking boundaries; failing to protect myself from overworking and overachieving. Learning to set clear boundaries with myself may be one of the major lessons I will learn during this time. To preserve the level of self-care that I have implemented since my most recent cancer diagnosis is paramount. That will involve reserving time for myself and my family; to limit the expectations I put upon myself to "do". I can see clearly that when I am moving at a measured pace, fully present in the moment, I am a better wife, mother, friend and a more empathic stranger.
So as I continue the process of learning to set healthy boundaries for my own wellbeing, I will also picture everyone bald. Because we all have a story and I truly desire to treat others the way I have been treated throughout this cancer story.
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