I watched my youngest girl play in a 3rd grade basketball game on Saturday. She wasn’t herself. Not the girl I remembered from last season anyway. She was the one who would play through the end, only stopping sometimes when the shriek of the whistle would blow in her ear.
No, this time she seemed timid, withdrawn. Almost like she’d lost her spark. The bright ball of energy that exuded from her tiny frame was missing.
Several weeks ago she had an emergency appendectomy. Yes, all eight years and 8 months of this tiny human had appendicitis. As you can imagine, she is afraid. She is afraid she may be bumped in the stomach, re-firing the pain that she’s been so carefully healing. The steri-strip bandages covering the wounds that required her to miss nearly a week of school are gone, yet the reserve remains. Physically, she is fine. She is healed and ready to play. Yet, she can’t fully trust that her future doesn’t involve pain. That it doesn’t involve trauma. She is different.
As I yell for her to take the ball, I realize how similar we are.
I experienced a traumatic circumstance and a series of life changing events. I have compared myself to a wounded bird with a broken wing. And yet, I’m alive. I’m capable. Yes, I am different and unrecognizable to parts of my life from before yet, I am still alive. Which means, I get another day to take back the ball.
I’ve been a bit quiet and mostly absent from updating on my journey. Most, likely assumed I was well, healed and moved on to live my best life post active cancer treatment. And that’s what I hoped they would think. Because that’s what I wanted to be the case. But it wasn’t.
Not every day has been rough. No, there have been some great days of memories being made and most every day has started off and ended with me at home with my family. Yet, other days have been ripe with anxiety and depression badly enough to keep me in bed for days and more.
I don’t share any of this for pity, only that I know if I was so comfortable to share the deepest struggle and battle I had to ever face with the world, it was also significant that I found it so hard to admit and face the reality of what putting my life back together actually looked like.
After lots of prayers, therapy, lifestyle adjustments, some help from family and friends and medicine, I can admit this. I can be open about my struggles. There is strength in knowing you are not alone. I hope this post offers a bit of hope to someone else.
It’s definitely time to take back the ball.
Good perspective!
Taking back the ball can be hard. Playing defense can be hard. Some times you need to rely on your good offense to compliment and help take the pressure off of your defense.
I could write a book on this. Life is difficult, unfair and yet worth the work to getting healthy and seeing the world in all its beauty. Being honest, completely naked and vulnerable with yourself, and with those who support you unconditionally, means so much toward your growth. I believe that when you take the ball back you will not be the same…the challenges that you have faced changes you permanently. We have to accept our challenges. Humor, laughing, crying, being kind and empathetic to ourselves and others all helps me accept my new self each day.
Beautifully written and well said. You are one of the strongest women I know and I am inspired by your resilience and strength through all this. I know God is with you and pray for your continued healing in mind and body. I love you sweet sister!