Ten years ago I lived in a house that had never felt like a home. I was 29 and in one week would be sitting my final uni exam. My family were travelling up in a few weeks to celebrate my 30th birthday, and I was just trying my best to work out who I was and find my way in this life. Oh and there was that other thing, over there in the corner like a looming shadow. I was weeks into radiation and chemo to treat the cervical cancer that had reared its head, like an ironic fuck you from the universe.
Today, I’m a month away from turning 40, and my, how my world has changed
When I look back I see a woman full of hope. A woman determined to do everything in her power and more for the person she loved. A woman surrounded by good people, but living a life ignoring the little voice inside her head that told her it’s not meant to be this way. If there’s one thing that’s difficult to ignore, it’s cancer. It’s kind of a bitch like that. It turns your world upside down and you do your best to hold on for the ride and just pray that you come out the other side. And come out the other side I did, a little worse for wear, but looking back, I wouldn’t change a thing. Okay maybe one or two things 😉 Don’t get me wrong, am I glad I had cancer? Fuck no, it’s terrible! I give it 0 stars, would not recommend. But that’s not how life works is it? I look around at the life that I have created for myself and couldn’t be more grateful for not only where I have arrived but all that is yet to come.
The one thing I wish that I could change, would be to have the baby that won’t ever be. The pain at the time was unbearable and even now, on occasion I sometimes surprise myself with a thought that springs a tear. What I do have are five incredible god children, whom I have the privilege to watch grow.
And I’m open to the adventure that is this life and all the possibilities that are yet to unfold. I am full of hope, dreams and joy.
My body changed as did my relationship with it. Not unlike many women I fear, I’ve had a love hate relationship with my body my whole life. I restricted myself and thought that I would be so much happier if only I was a certain size or clothing hung off my body in a certain way. At the end of my treatment I had gained a large amount of weight and was retaining a lot of fluid in my rather round face. Moon face I believe was what one of my chemo nurses called it. I was also fatigued in every way after what I had been through. So, for the first time in my life, I decided to give myself permission to meet me where I was at and learn to truly love myself.
I forced myself to look at myself in the mirror at my sad eyes and at the person I didn’t recognise. But it didn’t take long for something to shift. It started off small, with empathy creeping into my eyes, dragging me from the depths of my sadness. The edges of my eyes would crinkle (my favourite part of my body), and my lips would sheepishly hint at a smile. I would look at myself and awkwardly say ‘I love you, you’ve got this’.
And with each new day I found my way back to me. The gaze became less uncertain and more steadfast, my eyes brimming with love and pure joy beaming back at me.
The environment I had been living in for several years was one of constant stress, tying myself into knots trying to make someone else happy. Surviving cancer once, I was concerned that my health would suffer again if my situation didn’t change. I explored all avenues and left no stone unturned until I came to the difficult realisation that I needed to choose me, for my own health and happiness. I couldn’t ignore that voice anymore, and as hard and scary as it was, it was time. So five years ago, I set out on a path to recreate my life and rediscover who I was and what I wanted. My goodness, I found such wondrous people, places and experiences. I’ve not just survived but thrived. I’ve said yes to so much more, but also been clear and open about what it is that I want in this life. It’s amazing what comes your way when you put out into the universe exactly what you’re chasing.
Looking back, I’m certainly not grateful for having had cancer, but I am grateful for the catalyst that it was. The catalyst that made me stop waiting for things to get better and to go out and find it for myself. The catalyst that has allowed me to love myself more than I ever thought possible. Surviving cancer and what it took from me didn’t break me. It made me more determined than ever to live my life heart forward and full of hope. Life does just keep getting better, and ageing is an absolute privilege. I have honestly, not ever, felt more vibrant and powerful in my womanhood, and I have a feeling that this is just the beginning.
