Steps and directions

Everything comes and everything goes. I have never felt so fragile in the world. I am tenterhooks, or whatever you call it. The doctor says I am ok, everything is ok, I can go back to work, I can start to focus on living my life again. Intellectually, I understand. And yet.

All my literal footsteps feel shaky, even though they're actually not. It's just the feeling of life shifting into another cycle, but like, tectonic plates. Everything comes and everything goes. Innocence, health. Expectations.

Rather than feeling emboldened to do all the things I wanted to do before cancer (not really sure what they were, to be honest), I have more trepidation. I feel like I started out after the trauma facing forward, and then. My father without knowing, without meaning to, turned me back some.

A friend of mine who knows what she's talking about said to me, "cancer is the great editor. you see in black and white what matters, what you want." She's right, I get it. Yet now I don't know what I want. I know what matters, yes, but what I want? No idea.

I think it must be that I'm scared to take another step. My future is drastically uncertain. Feeling as physically good as I have in a long time, I can go forth fiercely, cancer be damned, full steam ahead. And once more get the rug pulled out from under me. It's really hard to make a move.

Earlier today, I was at the supermarket and in the middle of my shop, I stopped my cart to think, "is this really real? Is this actually me, only 3 months out from a life-threatening illness, with my dad about to start radiation treatments for lymphoma?" And it is. Everything comes and everything goes, but this, this is the fact of my life right now.

I hope next year has some better things to give us all.