The warm salty tears thankfully mix inextricably with the hot water as it cascades over my head... The sweet relief of the shower water seems to make the tears dissipate. At least there is some gentle comfort in the disappearing...
The depths of despair feel deeper than I've plunged before. It feels as if, this time, there is no rock bottom. No matter how hard I sob, I cannot purge the deep emotional pain that is dragging me down the dark rabbit hole of this newfound phoenix process.
I've been here before. More commonly called, the "dark night of the soul." It feels familiar, but on this morning/mourning, in this shower, I wonder why I am being called again to this hellish place. Did I not learn enough during my first battle with cancer?
My mind swims with calculations of the thousands of dollars I’ve spent on nontraditional treatments and the countless hours of research and dedication- acupuncture, repurposed medications, dietary supplements, Chinese medicine, cancer healing webinars, essential oils, broccoli sprout cultivation, copious amounts of green tea, more scientific research articles than I can count, EMDR therapy, massages, restorative retreats, detox elixirs, an entire library of self-help/cancer healing/nutrition books, yoga/meditation/sound healing, and healthier skin/beauty products.... and this is not even close to an exhaustive list.
And for what? Just to have the cancer come back with a vengeance?
What a betrayal. What a failure. What a disappointment.
This week I was a literal bulldozer. Pushing hard for a miraculous swiftly scheduled appointment with a plastic surgeon followed the next day by a second opinion with an oncologist who knows my health history from my last battle with cancer three years ago. I didn't stop there- calling the referral department at my insurance company every day to confirm the pre-authorization for my much-needed surgery. On Friday, I finally got the confirmation I was looking for: surgery, an amputation of my womanhood, had been approved by insurance. But not without the frustrating conversation with the approving referral nurse who had the audacity to say to me "Well, you won't get your surgery scheduled this month anyways."
Watch me, Lorraine. Watch me.
But here is where my dark night of the soul begins... After focusing all week on "pushing" all of the approvals and appointments, I was left with nothing tangible. Surgery can only be scheduled by the doctors. There is nothing left to push. Nothing left for me to do. I am only left with waiting. The fucking dreaded waiting. For SIX long, lonely weeks I've been directing this freight train, but more importantly, WAITING impatiently at all of the stops along the way. Waiting on MRI results, biopsy results, bone scan results, CT results, and for countless appointments with doctors. It's been literal hell.
Waiting rooms are my new nemesis.
But now, the waiting is all I have. There is nothing left to push. The waiting is the ultimate catalyst that won't let me ignore the siren call to face my own pain, despair, and the inevitable dark night of the soul. I must wade into the darkness again. No one can save me from the pain.
There will be many more dark nights, and mornings, of the soul before I start to feel and see the hidden gifts. The sad truth is that this is just the beginning. The depths of despair feel bottomless at the moment. Just when I think I’m okay, reality creeps in and reminds me that I’m not.
Luckily, I know this process. The pain is real and familiar. This isn't the first time the phoenix process has visited me. But this time is very different. It's darker. A little scarier. However, I have the "knowing" that the gifts will eventually be revealed. I won't stay in the depths forever. I won't isolate forever. But for now, I am cocooning in the knowing that eventually I will seek the light and be transformed. As I listened to a talk by Carrie Suwal on Insight Timer this morning, I was reminded that my intuition knows there is purpose in this pain.
The growth is coming.
But first, I must wait...
You write so well. You should write a book. Thank you for sharing your thought and feelings. We are all wishing you strength and full recovery. Hugs