I Love You, Dopamine

“Live like you are dying” implies something big. You must live “big” to live life to the fullest. I understand the statement, but nowhere in life is that practical. If I were to live that way, I certainly wouldn’t be paying taxes, nor living in a state that is going backward in time and oppressing groups of people in honor of weaponizing their religion. I wouldn’t concern myself with work, keeping my house clean, or paying any sort of bill. Very few people are privileged enough to “live like you are dying”.

Being someone that lives in the United States AND someone with ADHD, I am constantly chasing those dopamine hits. Those little bursts of fun. I love stickers, funny tee shirts, post-its, and gel pens. Ah, Dopamine! Though, for me, that’s the little happy chemical literally keeps me going, it shouldn’t be the main reason I am living my life–it’s all meaningless.

When I got diagnosed with cancer and told people, my porch was filled with gifts, my phone was blowing up with all the people, and it felt so good to know that people cared. Those things didn’t last long. I was left with my amazing “inner circle” of people. These are the people that went elbow-deep into ensuring I knew I was loved, and taken care of, they showed up to treatments, to take care of my dogs, and they were on call at any given point. This is where I first began seeing meaning.

Everyone has their own reasons, their own purpose, their drive, and their compass. None are incorrect. Mine just happened to be the people I keep. And do I have the best people! My priority list and purpose were course corrected, and I see now my purpose is to help lead people to joy, connection, and empowerment. These three concepts far outweigh a fun dopamine hit. These concepts fill my heart, keep me going, and fulfill my purpose to go another day.

I see how mindless chasing dopamine hits is now. Granted, I will always fill my life with stickers, post its, gel pens, and funny tee shirts–but now, I see them for what they are, dopamine. My friends and self-made family are still those roles with or without post its. And they don’t care how many social media likes and comments I collect. I didn’t need anything else during the harrowing times that cancer can bring, just my people. I hope I can fulfill their lives as they have filled mine.

My daughter has always been a big bright spot in my life. She is what I am most proud of, and I know I would sacrifice everything for her. As chemotherapy left me feeling like a ragged doll, it became harder to show up to treatments. I would think of her upcoming high school graduation, and I didn’t want to miss it. I would think of all her elementary and middle school move-up ceremonies, and watching her cross her multiple 5K races. I would think of watching her playing soccer, and how I was there for everything. And cancer wasn’t going to keep me from being there for the next accomplishment, the next pillar for her, I needed to be there for her first heartbreak when she moves out, and dammit! I need to remind her to eat vegetables and to take care of herself. These simple moments most people are given, and take for granted, became my driving force. This is what I literally live for.

Time has become such a piece I need to savor. I am so sensitive about time now. I see it is incredibly valuable. Life can just end within the next second. It could be right now, and never finish this sentence. Death can swoop you up and take you away. And though the answer is not to live in fear, the answer is to savor life. Find joy and love in every moment, then pass it on to the next person. I firmly believe we are not here to be unhappy or selfish. We are here to love hard, play hard, marinate in our happiness, and pass it on to the next person. This is the exact opposite of chasing dopamine hits. This is meaning. This is love.

Yes, shit can happen. Life is hard. Love is harder. And sometimes finding joy is extremely difficult. I faced all this, and I will always continue to in moments. But real love, happiness, and meaningful relationships drive you to the next thing, to the next chemotherapy treatment, in a much more significant and authentic way than any dopamine hit. I didn’t complete chemo, immunotherapy, surgeries, and radiation for a silly tee shirt. I did, however, find joy within and through pain.

I came out on the other side wanting to honor and celebrate my life while I have it. I see these beautiful relationships that have been cultivated with fresh eyes. I have always held this love back inside me, but now I am finding it is bursting! It’s a strange feeling when you are so full of love and compassion and then you turn on the news to see not everyone is fueling their lives in the same way. It’s as if they turned off the facet of love and compassion so tight, they only see through the lens of power and greed. And they know they can get it by maintaining chaos in the hearts of others. This is something so foreign to me, especially now.

I have been told in so many ways years before cancer to shine my light, especially through the dark days, and this is a driver now. Yes, I still collect stickers and reward myself with sticker charts and gel pens. It’s what I am rewarding myself FOR that’s the change. It used to be about being productive, but now it’s about shining a light for me, for my child, and for the people in dark moments. For me, that’s living to live.

Though, still, I firmly believe you should be given a free tee shirt through each step of cancer treatment. This is a hill I am willing to die on.