You know all those inspiring tales of the phoenix rising from the ashes of destruction? Well, they seem to really glaze over just how difficult that rebirth process actually is. I’ve found that there’s a lot more to it than just shaking off the dust and returning to life as it was before with a few new stories to share. In fact I’ve been having trouble writing or talking about any of lately, as I’ve been a little overwhelmed by the whole rebirthing process.
It’s been nearly three years now since Brooke’s leukemia came back and knocked my life off the rails again. And I have so much to be grateful for! Brooke’s treatments are finally behind us and she’s doing great. She completed her maintenance chemo protocol and has been off treatment for 5 months now. All tests show no sign of cancer and virtually no long term effects from the cancer or the treatment. Even though I’d envisioned it all along, it’s truly amazing to see her come through so unscathed for the second time! And her brother Aidan, who was pretty traumatized by his experience of Brooke’s relapse and had a lot of resulting difficulties with school and his own health during this time, has done so much healing over the past year to release and recover. Now both of them are happy, affectionate, enthusiastic about their interests, doing pretty well in school, have great friends, and are in great health. And they both have strength and wisdom far beyond their years. They are blossoming into truly remarkable people.
And I did it! I got us through this crazy journey with cancer. Twice. I’ve been truly transformed by my experiences over the past 7 years, and I am grateful for all the gifts this journey has brought me. I discovered a deep strength I didn’t know I had. I’ve learned so much about what really matters to me in life, how to stay present and experience joy, and how to be the mom I want to be. I’ve richly developed my own gifts as a coach and a healer, and I’ve learned to live my purpose authentically.
The gifts and blessings did not come easily, however. It was incredibly difficult. Even with my 15 years of training in mental health and various healing modalities, and all the experience I have helping clients through their own challenges, seeing my daughter through cancer twice was almost too much for me.
Relapse treatment was at least twice as intense as her initial treatment protocol 5 years earlier. For the first two years, every single day was hard. There was so much to do and manage. I watched both my children being traumatized and tried to do everything I could to limit their wounding and hold them through it. My heart broke. My body suffered. The details of life fell through the cracks all around me. I lost touch with friends and saw important connections fade. Everything I’d done to build my life coaching practice sat on the shelf gathering dust. The stress and fear consumed me and at times, I wondered if my sanity would survive intact.
When I was living in the hospital, I took it one day at a time, counting down the weeks of her treatment. I think a part of me thought that there was a point coming when we’d suddenly break through the tape, celebrate our victory, and get to collapse with relief back into “normal” life. I thought that when she finished her hospitalizations, or when she got to Maintenance, or when she went back to school, or when she finished her treatment…then everything would be ok again. I needed to believe that, and each milestone was indeed a victory to be celebrated. But each one was also followed by new challenges that had to be faced, and that ultimate relief I craved never seemed to come. In fact, in some ways as the kids got better, I got worse.
It seems that we had to take turns healing. Once Brooke made it through the toughest parts of her treatment and was back in school feeling good, Aidan was able to make more significant progress in his recovery. And once he got more stable, it was my turn to collapse. The more healing and balance I saw in my kids, the more my mama bear survival mode subsided. Although I felt relieved to let down the vigilance, I was surprised to discover how much all that survival energy had cost me. After two straight years of filling my blood stream with the adrenaline and cortisol it took to show up the way I did, my adrenals collapsed. I went through months of debilitating fatigue, brain fog, joint pain, back pain, digestive issues, and sleep troubles. And my psyche cracked too. All the difficult emotions that I didn’t have space to fully feel while we were in the trenches came in crushing, unrelenting waves that often felt like they would engulf me forever. I had bouts of grief, depression, rage, overwhelming anxiety, panic attacks, insomnia, nightmares, even glimpses of agoraphobia, and other PTSD symptoms.
And life didn’t stop just because I needed to heal. I still had to get up every day and take care of things. Make meals, do the dishes, the laundry, the shopping, the housework. Get the kids to and from school and doctor appointments, parent them, support them in getting caught up academically, and help them continue to heal and adjust to post-cancer life. I had to rebuild friendships and connections, re-ignite my coaching practice, and keep making ends meet. All while trying to restore my health and pick up the scattered pieces of my life, my home, and my psyche and rebuild them in some way that felt right.
I knew I could do it though. I knew I hadn’t come through all that to fall apart on the other side. I knew how to follow and support the natural healing process that was occurring within me. And I knew I couldn’t do it alone. Despite my meager and dwindling savings, I enlisted the support of several powerful healers. Week after week these healers helped me to give my body, my heart, and my mind what they needed to heal and align with my spirit. Day by day, I used my tools and practices to find balance and connect with the part of myself that is unscathed by these challenges, is always at peace, and always feels supported and safe. I loved myself through the waves of fear, sadness, and anger until I could come back to the joy that is right in front of me and all around me in my present moment. Right there alongside the dishes and the laundry and the bills.
Rising from the ashes is a challenging, painful, and ongoing process. Much slower and more gradual than I had imagined during sleepless nights on a stiff cot in a hospital room when I was dreaming of the finish line. Honoring my healing has been more like gradually emerging from a thick, heavy fog than running through the tape. Day by day, week by week, with frequent stumbling and setbacks. And it doesn’t ever really end. But it does keep getting better. My body is strong and balanced again, and the waves of difficult emotion are less frequent and don’t knock me down as often anymore. My days are filled with more ease and joy every month. I feel energized and inspired. I’m clear on what my next steps are and I feel empowered to take them.
There was so much about this entire journey that I wanted to share. So many deep experiences that have changed me forever. So many huge gifts, insights, and spiritual shifts. But I was too busy getting through it to write about it as much as I wanted to, or even to talk about it much. So much is still inside me, waiting to be expressed and shared. I am trying to trust the unfolding.
And a huge thank you to all my friends and family who were there for us through these challenging years. I am forever grateful for your love and support.
