Heavy

Sometimes people pick a word for the year. This word provides focus and clarity. For me, in 2022, the word “heavy” picked me. Everything felt heavy. But, I lacked the words to completely articulate all I had been feeling. I still don’t think there are words in the English language to encompass exactly what all this was. Yes, “heavy”, but that overgeneralizes the complexity of the destruction and the gift cancer gave me.

Yup. I said gift. The gifts weren’t exactly tied neatly with a bow, but, if I took a few minutes to ponder what was behind the pain and destruction, I saw gifts. A loud gift was all the love I was receiving.

Personally, I believe people do love. They do care.

The moment I let the public in on my diagnosis, the gifts came pouring in, as did the food!!! People know food provides comfort, and some people will jump right into feeding you. Sometimes, long before you need them to! I had casseroles even before my port went in!

Humans can be amazing and incredibly thoughtful. They have this endless need to take action. And no one could take away this diagnosis, but they could shower me with materialistic items. This provided me comfort and love, and this helped them release their energy to take action. People want help as a general whole.

EXCEPT! There are “those” people who avoid you like the plague. They say “Let me know if you need anything”, and then they hide away. On a cognitive level, I knew they cannot handle the “heavy” of a cancer diagnosis. They don’t know how to do this. They aren’t made up of the grit one needs to dive in and just take action. In fact, they go radio silent. These people aren’t people I needed in my squad as I make my way through this. But, on an emotional level, it still hurt. Why wouldn’t they care enough to swallow their own pride and be there? It hurt. It stung. It still does at times.

A friend of mine, who proves herself extremely empathetic, told me once that they don’t “get it” because if we walked around life “getting it” in every situation, we would be terrified. She went on explaining the world is full of pain, trauma, abuse, hunger, death, and tribulation. If we all felt everyone’s pain, we would be paralyzed….or…on the other hand, completely dead inside from having to shut off our emotions. This is true.

A big gift I was given was seeing in a huge light, those most loyal to me. Not because I am this higher-than-being that deserves it more than another, but it becomes clear who I can share with, who I dedicate time and energy to, and when shit gets really hard, who to lean in on. It’s those people that will stick with you at every doctor visit, who will cry with you, who will cheer you on, and who literally you fight for. During those last few treatments, I had to remember why it is important to keep going and what life is worth fighting for. They held my battle cry. They helped me hold my heavy, and made it just a little lighter.

Yes, it was only me that had the poison pumped through my body, it was only me that had to go back into the surgery room, had drains yanked out of my body, and it was only me that laid on the table while I was zapped with 25 radiation treatments every damn day. But, those people, the people who held the heavy with me, they were just a room away, and at times, within just a couple feet of me.

Heavy. The weight of their loyalty is heavy, and I am forever grateful. That heavy continues to pull me out, hold me up, and keep walking forward.