I'm Still Me

Cancer will not define me, but it has changed me.  Ever since college I have been fascinated with the concept of “identity” and how we define ourselves.  How others define us is irrelevant but how we define ourselves is so important.  It allows us to take stock of who we are and what we’re doing, to make sure that we’re content with the person we have become.  Stripped down to the basics it’s a measure for making sure that we can honestly say, “I like me”. 

When I was diagnosed the very first thing I said to my husband was, “This will not define me.  This is not who I am.”  I was adamant and I was angry.  I couldn’t fathom how I went from being healthy to being sick in an instant.  I didn’t feel sick.  Sure, there was pain, but that was from the surgery, doctors did that to me.  But it was a revelation in a way because it forced me to really look at my life and ask some hard questions.  Am I happy with where I am?

I have always been a person who leans toward the melancholy, wistful, “what if” side of life.  Not so much to the passing observer, but my inner fourteen year old goth girl is alive and well.  I can honestly say that I do like who I am and I love who I am with. 

But there are words missing from my personal definition list.  Words that I still long to add and that will require time and work.  I am a procrastinator and at certain times I lack adequate ambition.  I am a collector of hobbies, meaning I’m pretty good at a lot of things but a master of nothing.  I, like so many others, have a novel that is 2/3 of the way through the first draft.  I feel very close to my characters because I have been writing this novel for more years than I care to admit.  They are close friends who I visit every now and then and they don’t judge my absences.

My word bank needs to grow.  I want words like: fearless, traveler, entrepreneur, activist.  The words I’ve already collected are precious to me and I am so grateful for them, but I want more. 

A great friend who has traveled a similar journey said to me in a time when I needed her most, “Don’t ever let anyone tell you that cancer is a gift.” She was so right and I will never view it that way.  I did not ask for this but I will make the best of it, and I will allow this moment to help me find what I am missing and to appreciate what I already have.