If you had told me that one day I would embrace this journey into the dark world of breast caancer, I probably would have planted a swift hard kick to someplace in your midsection. I would (and did) have thoughts such as: “How dare you? This is serious life threatening business. What could possibly be good about it?”
But I have learned over the pasat 2 1/2 years since my diagnosis, that misery does love company. Not in the traditional sense of misery breeding more misery, but that the connectiong with others who share your experiences, fears and all, leads to happiness in a way. Maybe happiness is not the right word, although it can certainly morph into that. Being with other cancer survivors has heightened my awareness of all the life that still exists around me. I find that I am not as lonely knowing others are walking the same path. I haave found joy and excitement relating my experiences with someone else. Their eyes light up, the corners of their mouth change directions from down to up, relief pours over their face. “Yes, yes”, they exclaim. “I jave felt that exact same way.” “I didn’t know – I thought I was the only one.”
I thought it was “just me” once, too. Barraged with well wisher’s inane comments about “the silver lining” or “becoming stronger” or the ever-popular “there’s a reason for everything.” I could scarcely contain my anger sometimes seeing that these professions of support came from people who had not a clue as to what I was going through. So in my desparation to make some sense out of my circumstances I started to seek out others like me. And I began to realize that this is a very special club I belonged to. Yes, it is exclusive. Who would want to volunteer to join? But giving myself over to it’s membership, talking with countless sisters, I found wholeness and hope. We could help each other, walk along side each other in the good times and bad, and all the annoying times in between.
The more I connected to this club, the more I felt compelled to lead the way. To bring others into the fold and hold their hand while they took the steps along the path that I already passed. Their gratitude was overwhelming. The attachments grew stronger. And lest you think this was completely altruistic on my part, let me assure you it is not. I grew stronger, more content, flush withe the knowledge that I had something to offer these women. And by lightening their load, I was lightening my own. The green leaves became more lush, the blue sky more intense and the sun brighter. I had found a purpose – a way out of my own suffering. And this road led to healing, not only for the others I walked with, but for myself as well.
So maybe all those well wishers with their infuriating comments were right. Good can come out of bad. But what they don’t know (yet) if that you have to relly experience the bad in order to be able to savor the good.
Nia
niaklein