An Irish Blessing
St. Patrick’s Day never meant much to me before 2017. You see…I am not so Irish (although I could be mistaken for such with my hair coloring and one-of-a-kind freckles) nor do I identify as a Christian. So it makes sense why I might not acknowledge the commemoration of the arrival of Christianity in Ireland. Culturally, I never quite jumped on the green bandwagon and “pinch me if you dare” attitude. I never once wanted to catch the mischievous leprechauns (Ok maybe when I was 5yo) and I didn’t quite get the allure of the whole green beer thing in college. However, I have always appreciated the thought of collecting a substantial pot of gold…
Now, if you’ve ever so diligently read my blog, we all know where this is going, right? The question is, am I really going to do this? Am I going to compare my cancerous tumor and in-situ carcinoma cells with a pot of gold? The answer is…why not!? I did, in fact, feel the lump of “gold” in my breast two years ago on Saint Patrick’s Day. It oddly seems fitting.
And the thing is, you don’t need me to tell you how bizarre life is…how complicated, unexpected, painfully beautiful, challenging, disappointing, and “extra” life can be. And boy, oh boy! If someone told me when I was 5 years old that the pot of gold at the end of one of my rainbows was a freaking tumor, I would have laughed and called them a “dummy” cause that shit is just plain silly. Yet I’m not five and can express myself as I please. I will, however, remind you that it can be challenging to pause long enough to listen to life’s lessons when the world is continuously loud and overwhelming. Sometimes we come across a pot of gold and have enough strength, perseverance, and quietness in our heads and hearts to make significant use of the riches.
The truth of the matter is, and I have expressed this sentiment before, my tumor has been a gift, a blessing and curse which can also be said about gold - utilized wisely it can bring pleasure, yet spent foolishly can conjure pain. It is not the gold (aka “cancerous tumor”) itself that has made me “rich.” Instead it has been my spending habits – from the beginning of how I viewed my diagnosis to how I have accepted and embraced cancer in a way that enriches the totality of my life.
So what is it that I am really saying here under all this St. Patrick’s Day mask? The answer – I have gained the wealth of enhanced curiosity, openness, and willingness to be vulnerable (although I am often scared as hell). I now know to seek self-compassion above all. It took cancer to jostle my life in such a way (to its core) for me to really examine my happiness and to move forward, daring greatly. The shiny “lump of gold” has illuminated my fundamental need to start showing up for myself instead of just for others. It shines a light on the simple fact that I have been buried in the hurt…in the stories that I conjure up in my own head coupled with the narratives that society has feverishly reinforced. Cancer reignited my self-exploration and still reminds me that I must keep questioning in order to return to myself. I am no longer here to be who you want me to be. I am here to be more me than ever.
And although the lump of gold is out of my chest and has remained out of my body for the past 2 years (*note photo at my latest 3-6mo oncology appt.), I am continually reminded that I am indeed golden and full of weallth.
You thought I was coal My friend, I'm gold Can't you tell? – Song Lyrics from Ruth B.
“Finding yourself is not really how it works. You aren’t a ten-dollar bill in last winter’s coat pocket. You are also not lost. Your true self is right there, buried under cultural conditioning, other people’s opinions, and inaccurate conclusions you drew as a kid that became your belief s about who you are. “Finding yourself” is actually returning to yourself. An unlearning, an excavation, a remembering who you were before the world got its hands on you.” – Emily McDowell
May the road rise up to meet you. May the wind be always at your back. –Irish Blessing