I long for the days when the word control for me was just the title to one of my favorite Janet songs circa 1986. Back then I was a junior in high school and one of the few problems I had at the time was finding a date for the prom which by the way was unsuccessful. I hadn't yet come in contact with one single person who had cancer. I rarely ever thought of the word.
Then bad things started happening. My parents divorce when I was 18, my husbands death when I was 25, and thinking it couldn't get any worse, a diagnosis of cancer at only 31 years old. I am not a controlling person perse when it comes to the people in my life. The control freak in me comes out about things like my diet, my daily routine, exercise or lack thereof, and obsessing over my health. All of which stems from fear. Fear of losing people close to me, fear of failure, fear of cancer recurrence and the list goes on.
The hardest part to control though is my mind and all the crazy thoughts running through it on a daily basis. It is much easier for me to control what I eat and how much exercise I get in order for me to try and maintain my health. If I miss a day with my juicer I get cranky and start obsessing not realizing that the obsessing is just as bad if not worse for me that just missing a juicing day. I hate that it is hard for me to control bad thoughts.
I know that immersing myself in what I love to do helps. But getting those things started seem so overwhelming sometimes and I can't help but wonder why. I wish it wasn't so hard for me. Each day I try a little harder, each day I try to find myself amidst the mess in my head.
How about you? Would love to hear from those who can relate!
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2 comments:
I'm too lazy to replace obsessive thinking with anything as constructive as a daily exercise or juicing routine.
Cancer has taught me to have compassion and kindness towards myself. It has gone a long way towards talking myself out of the hamster wheel of obsessive thinking. I just try to get present with the stingy thoughts that are plaguing my mind.
I believe we can try hard to be healthy, but ultimately we have little control over our cancer; if we did we'd have the cure. Until then, I just try to be easy on myself.
I haven't had cancer, but I do suffer from depression. My mother died of cancer and so did two of her siblings.
I fear that I might too if I don't address these negative thoughts in my head.
What makes it worse is that I'm a psychotherapist.
I'm also a wife, mother, painter, and alas, a writer.
Writing is the one place where I feel at home and the thoughts in my head somehow come to make sense.
It's been hard searching for blogs written about things that matter to me.
This blog really touched my heart.
I lost my father when I was 15. A year and a half later my brother and only sibling drowned. My family was cut in half in less than two years.
I have control issues.
I'm always afraid of losing, my life to the world--ultimately being destroyed, swallowed up, chewed and spit out, never to regain consciousness without pain.
I think pain is the one thing that frightens me. The pain of loss.
I write about loss--surviving the loss of loved ones, one's sanity--and regaining love in some divine way--through those who enter your life after that loss--when you're lying on the floor and not knowing how to get up.
In 1994 I was shot 4 times--twice in the neck and twice in my left wrist. I drove myself to the hospital where my husband was working. He's a surgeon. Trained as a medical technologist, I knew that I had a trauma injury that needed attention--that the next 60 minutes were important.
I survived and surprisingly with no chronic injuries or permanent damage.
I walk, swim, hike--do all the things I did prior to the shooting and swim, which I was unable to do prior.
It's amazing that I survived.
And yet there are days when I struggle to see the purpose.
My writing brings me back--always--to that place that I abandoned long ago during my childhood when things got rough--more so than I could handle.
I pray I never lose the ability to approach my writing as a survivor or pain--one who knows it, but does not succumb to it ever how intense it may be. And it does get rough.
Thanks for opening the space in me and providing a place where I could share and connect.
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