Remember when I talked about being in the carwash? If you do, you get a gold star. If you don’t, then I will give you the short end of the tale: When I got diagnosed with breast cancer, I likened it to getting on the tracks of a car wash. It was as if I got on the Nebraska Medicine Ride-to-save-a-life-and-conquer-the-boobs and just let everyone engineer all that went on around me. From my meals to my childcare to my GNO to my treatment plan, everything was taken care of for me. I just got to focus on myself. On keeping me going.
That sounds really selfish, right? Well, it is, I suppose. I was able to just have some time with myself. And that time was, in all honesty, sort of a gift. Cancer was not a gift. Let me be clear that I would never call the actual disease — the innocence stealer, the life halter, the toxic guest — I would never ever claim that that was a gift. But the way that it redirected my sails, that was the gift.
I remember thinking in the midst of it all, “Oh my gosh. What is God showing me with this? Surely I am supposed to use this for something.” I wrote about it often. Because getting a second chance feels like it’s too good to be true. Or like God is saying, “Okay, you can stay… but you need to make a difference, girl.” It feels bigger than any other purpose you’ve ever thought you had. It feels like you must use your second chance to change the world.
It feels… big.
Bigger than you really want to carry. Because if you think to yourself, “I must make a difference because God gave me a second chance. One that he didn’t give Julie. Or Jen. Or…”
And I had this whole blog setup. I’d had this whole community for years before. And in my mind, I thought, “Oh my stars… God set this up so I’d finally write my book.” Or a hundred other thoughts on what it meant to have had the blog.
And then today, I realized something. What if the blog life all got set up so that I’d have it during my journey? What if it wasn’t because it was supposed to be more if I got to be better? What if it was all leading up to cancer?
Wow.
When I had my mid-cancer crisis last year. When I completed treatment. When I was about to turn 35. I was so nervous. What if I don’t use my “gift”?
Well. First of all. I have to admit something. I still don’t believe that what I write, how I write or whatever is really anything special. I know. There is a contingent out there who will throw compliments at me and tell me I write good {get it?:)}. And that’s not at all why I divulge my insecurities. It’s more so you know that even with my renewed sense of purpose… with my love and passion for fuck-it-go-for-what-you-love… with my belief that we only get one chance… with all that… I still question what the heck I’m doing pretending to be any sort of authority enough on anything to write about it and ask people to care about my words.
And I continue to wonder, “Where do I go from here?”
Do I go back to working?
Do I hang with my boys?
Do I write sponsored posts so I can make a buck?
Do I try to sell myself in the freelance world?
Do I just push forward only on my book?
Do I try to get more people to want to book me to speak?
Do I fold laundry and drink coffee and jot down random thoughts on left behind paper towels stained with pickle juice?
Gosh. I just don’t know. I don’t fancy myself a blogger. I don’t really want to do posts just to get paid for my opinion. I just want to be able to give goodness. And help promote the goodness givers {IF I believe in them/the product/service of course}. I love writing and connecting and being funny and emotional and, well, myself. I don’t really want to go back to an office in a 9-5 role. Not at this stage of my boys’ lives. Not if I don’t have to in order to make ends meet. I don’t really want to sell myself to anyone right now… I’m not terribly good at that anyway. I would love to get more organized with blog time and writing time and actually get back to people and make deadlines in a more timely fashion. So that will have to be a priority. And I feel like honestly, the setup I have right now where I get to be a mom and a survivor and focus on my health and my relationships and collaborating a bit and writing here and there… I feel like it all feels sort of charmed and lovely. And gosh, after the whole cancer world, I will take charmed and lovely for a bit.
And here’s the other major thing I do know…
My story is not yours. My perspective is not yours. It is mine {duh}. But what is amazing about that fact is this: I am the ONLY one who can tell my story from me.
And so… somehow, that will be my focus. It feels very self-serving but honestly, I’ve learned through the c-dog that sometimes you’ve got to be self-serving in order to pursue your curiosities. I’ve learned that what might seem crazy to others might be the only way that you will ever feel whole. And that maybe, sharing my writing may not be necessary to the world… but I think, I do… that it is necessary to me.
I am so happy right now. I’m content with my current circumstances. I know that control is sort of just a mirage. Just a mechanism set into place to make us think we’re steering. But really, the tracks are helping us on our way. And that is sort of freeing. We don’t have to be in control because we aren’t.
But I also know, I do want to do more. I do want to make a difference. If even just for one person going through any of the things I’ve gone through. Someone who had a hard time adjusting to motherhood, someone who doesn’t have a Pinterest life, someone who still feels like a baby raising babies, someone who had premises, someone who has been told they have a life-altering diagnosis. If I can connect and help just one mama or friend or sister or dude… well… I kinda think that is my purpose for awhile.
So where do I go? The gorgeous reality: I don’t have to know that in order to take the journey. I just have to know I am willing to be along for the ride.
The words from my head and heart will continue to find their way onto pages and if it never makes a cent,if I never become a legit speaker, if I never sell more than 10 copies of a book… it will, I still believe, produce my biggest paycheck to date.
…
Where will you go? What are you grappling with? And will you be along for your ride?
