Facing Fear

As a cancer survivor, I know that some people look at me and see this strong, courageous woman, who fought cancer and won.  I see myself that way sometimes, and I have been fond of saying that I am just not scared of anything anymore, but honestly, that’s not true.

Let me tell you a little secret – starting this new career as a life coach who works with cancer survivors is just a little bit terrifying to me.  Can I really do this?  Who am I to assume this awesome responsibility in other people’s lives?  Will I make enough money?  Will organizations give me access to their members?  Will survivors even want to be coached?  You get the picture.

I have learned over the past five years that facing fears to achieve what we want is how we grow.  It’s how I found my passion, and how I became the strong, courageous woman that a lot of people see.  But I am human and I get held back by my fears like everyone else.

This week, the universe was kind enough to remind me what real fear is.  Elevated liver enzymes in my recent blood work were enough to warrant an ultrasound of my liver.  My doctor really wasn’t all that concerned, but when you have had cancer, you can never be too sure.  Cancer in the liver doesn’t usually have a good outcome, and my world pretty much closed in on me for the 36 hours between my doctor's phone call and receiving the results of my ultrasound.  All clear, thank god, but I distinctly heard the universe saying, “Now do you remember what REAL fear is?”

Today, at the offices of The Cancer Coach, I am making a long list of everything I need to do to get this practice up and running, and I am putting the scariest things at the top of my list.  I am still a bit anxious about them, but I can’t wait to see how much I grow as I face them and move ahead.

What do you do if you just can't make lemonade?

My purpose in writing this blog as a part of my coaching practice, is to share the things I have learned and continue to learn as a cancer survivor, hoping to teach and to inspire others  - to make lemonade out of lemons, so to speak.

Sometimes though, you just can't manage the lemonade.  There are some things you can’t turn around, or shift your perspective on.  Some things you just need to accept and often, that’s not easy. 

This past weekend, a dear friend posted on Facebook that he had lost his good friend to cancer.  He posted a link to her blog, and feeling the cancer connection, I spent some time reading what she had posted over the past few years.  The more I read, the more I realized what a cool woman she was, how her sense of humor about her cancer seemed like mine, how honest she was about the things that pissed her off.  And then I got angry, because cancer had taken away someone so cool, someone that I didn’t even know, but now would never get to meet.  I didn’t know her, but I felt a loss at her passing.

I have lost a lot of things to cancer.  I lost the feeling in my toes, my ability to have children, my metabolism and sense of balance.  I lost the ability to have an ache or a pain without that nagging bit of worry – is it back? And, sadly, I have also lost friends, far too early.  My childhood friend and I will not grow old together as we planned.  My chemo friend’s children will grow up without her.  There is no way to change any of these things.  And so, I try to accept them.

Accepting doesn’t mean you get to a place where you think, ‘oh well, it’s ok’.  It’s not ok that young people die.  It’s not ok that I was denied my dream of carrying and giving birth to my own child.  It’s not ok that I can work out like a fiend, eat next to nothing, and I still can’t get the number on the scale to move.  When the anger wells up in me, I allow myself to feel it.  I give myself space to grieve for the things I have lost, and then I breathe, and allow myself to accept that I cannot change these things.  Sometimes, acceptance takes a lot of breathing, and a lot of time.

My heart goes out to my friend.  He has experienced a great loss, and it will never be ok that his friend is gone.  There is no way around it.  He can only move through the grief, to the acceptance that will hopefully bring him some peace.