About faith and surviving

I don't know what ever made me think it would be easier this time. It's harder actually and I don't know why. People have always told me that the difficulty would ease with time, but for me it has been the opposite. The anniversary of the day that I was diagnosed with breast cancer is fast approaching. I can't breathe. It is still 8 days away though and I wonder if the next 8 days are going to feel like this. And the days after, if I live through them.

This time of year has become something, well, that I can't describe. To say that I dread it wouldn't be accurate, but I would give anything to just freeze myself in a moment that isn't this one. My birthday is 2 days after the day that I was diagnosed. The day in between, the 16th of May, is a day that is almost intolerable for me. This time of year was always a time of reflecting for me - the night before my birthday was always the time of year that I re-evaluated everything. I left nothing unchecked and for many years, year after year, I would write a suicide note on that day. Now all I can think about is how desperately I want to live and how overwhelming the fear is that I might not get to. A fear that I mostly ignore, but am not always able to.

It is moments like this one where I am confronted with the fact that I never really dealt with anything I went though. I never processed it, I never came to terms with what it means. I have never figured out how to live with it. And while I do have a real appreciation for life, for the fact that it can be taken away from you or permanently changed in an unanticipated tragedy, in a heart beat - a split second, in an otherwise benign moment - while I have an ability to appreciate even the smallest of things that I never used to even notice - trying to live in the aftermath of it, is, well - I can't find the words to tell you about it. The only thing I can say about it - I have said before. It's like this - imagine that you could know the moment when it would all be over - you could anticipate that second when it would all change - and then imagine what it is like to live in the hours and days leading up to that moment - imagine trying to live in the anticipation of it. Every day of my life is like this - trying to live in anticipation of that moment. And what do you do with the time? You try to live it, you try to love every second of it, you try to make the most of every last, little bit of it, you try to be grateful. But you think mostly about what you regret and what you would change and the fact that you don't have the time to. Time. There have been many things that I have wanted, that I have wanted desperately, that I still want. But I would give it all up - I would hand it all over in exchange for one thing. Time, and more of it.

I was thinking this morning about the fact that I am still sitting here when perhaps by all accounts, I shouldn't be. I was thinking about how that came to pass and where to turn in these moments that feel unlivable. I was thinking about faith because I have this faith in a higher power - through AA - that is probably almost unshakable. Almost. But what does that mean? There but for the grace of God go I. It doesn't mean that I won't get breast cancer again. Even God can't make that happen for me. I have come to realize that. I have come to appreciate through my own experience and through the experiences of others, some of whom I have met here through the blog world, that really bad things happen to really amazing people and there are some things even my faith in a higher power can't fix. I don't even pray for God to please let me not get breast cancer again - except for on very rare occasions. What my faith means to me today is simply that whatever I have to go through - whatever it is, no matter what it is - I will walk through it more gracefully than I otherwise would have. It means that in a moment of utter desperation, I may be granted that temporary reprieve - otherwise known as grace. That is all I can really hope for.

I was thinking also about this woman this morning - I don't know her but I posted about her last year. She was dying and I honestly don't know whether she has passed away yet or not because I no longer know the person who told me about her. But I think about her and I pray for her sometimes. What I pray for hasn't changed. I pray for her the same thing that I pray for myself - and that is simply to be unafraid. I pasted that post below because she was on my mind this morning.

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May 16, 2007
The day in between

Today is the day in between. The day in between the day I was diagnosed with breast cancer last year, and my 30th birthday. It is the day after everything changed. The day after nothing made sense anymore. The day after I and my life would never be the same. It is the day I didn't kill myself, even though I had planned to.

It is the day, every year, that I question everything and accept nothing. The day that I wonder how I got here, right here, to this moment and I am always amazed, no matter where I find myself. It is the day that I recount the ways I wish my life were different and that I analyze the ways that my life does not meet my expectations. But unlike other years, I will not forget that I am grateful.

The gratitude though is colored with what I can only describe as doubt and a feeling of unworthiness. That I, of all people, for whom God has performed multiple miracles, did not deserve it. There is this woman - and I don't know her, but a friend told me about her. We share the same name. She is 35 and dying of cancer. She has a family and small children. I pray for her.

This morning I thought, why, God, would you take her away from so many people who love her, when I have no one to leave behind? And though I can't say I know exactly what it would be like to go through what she is going through, to die, as I sit here, living, I feel for her a pain that is almost intolerable. It is ripping my heart out. I have tried to imagine it - in order to prepare myself for the very real possibility that I may one day be sitting where she is sitting. And today, right now, I think I know what that would feel like. It is indescribable.

When I pray for her - I pray for the things that I pray for myself. For God's will above all other things and that she can go on, unafraid - that she has peace, that her children can find some way to understand what there is simply no explanation for, and that she has the strength that I have. Mostly I pray that she is not afraid, because I would be terrified.

If you are reading this, and you know me - so you know my name, please pray for her. I do believe in miracles.
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