My last post I talked about there being No Safe Dreams,
cancer diagnosis or not. We, each and
every one of us, will spend our lifetimes coming to terms with our
mortality.
Getting diagnosed with cancer as a young adult just necessitates taking a lifetime of learning and cramming it into, say, 2 months of time.
Getting diagnosed with cancer as a young adult just necessitates taking a lifetime of learning and cramming it into, say, 2 months of time.
Finding hope is difficult in that place. Finding the hope to dream again after a
cancer diagnosis takes a lot of hard internal work. And something bigger than yourself, something
greater than better physical health, to hope in.
And therein lies the problem. Getting diagnosed with cancer is a psychological trauma on top of the physical one. Many young adults don’t feel sick, not “I’m dying” sick, when they are diagnosed so the words coming out of the mouth of your physician feel like they are coming out of left field.
When I saw my doctor start to cry as I held my four month
old in my arms; as heard the words, “You
have cancer,” come out of his mouth my dreams for my life, what I had hoped for
my life, crumbled around me.
And died.
I was in my early 30s. Yes, of course I knew accidents happen. But who dreams for an early death? It was reasonable for me to expect decades more. Decades. Not praying to live to make it to the 2 year mark so that there was a better chance to live 5 more years. Not praying to live to 35 and then 40.
That death makes the heart sick. Cancer and dead dreams make a toxic combination. So many, too many, young survivors are on medications. Not for their cancer treatment. But for the treatment of broken dreams. Learning to dream again after a cancer diagnosis feels impossible.
I’m not somehow immune to this. I’ve looked into the eyes of my young children and thought, “I must be such a bad mom that God doesn’t even want them to be old enough to remember me.” And cried. I can’t count how many times.
How do you dream again after a cancer diagnosis?
It starts with being honest with yourself about your feelings. Pushing them down into a pot and putting a lid on it only means they will boil over when you least expect it. Take the time, make the space to feel.
With little, and not so little kids now, it can be tough to make the space. It’s worth it. You are worth it. Shut the door to your bedroom and put music on so no one can hear you. Take a solitary walk somewhere; I often walk my neighborhood (We have great trees. And owls!). And then find the courage to tell God how you feel.
If you are mad, tell Him. If you are afraid, tell God. If you have children then sometime you’ve had the experience of having a little one crawl into your lap and ask you a question, when what you really hear is, “Do you love me?” I’ve had my 11 year old son get really mad at something I’ve said, seen in his eyes my words were misunderstood. Somehow things inside him got twisted and in my correction he became afraid I didn’t love him anymore.
If we as parents aren’t put off by our children asking, “Do you love me?” why would God? Be a little child and take the risk to ask, “God do you hate me? Are you mad at me? Am I a bad mom?”
Just knowing God is listening will start a trickle of
hope. Hearing God answer that he loves
you will bring a waterfall of hope and new life. As a woman that’s a literal statement because
hoping God loves me makes me cry. Those
tears can water the life, the future God has for you.
If your dreams for your future are dead? Good. Jesus knows a bit about resurrection. Jesus working a miracle on your behalf grows that tree of life. Of hope. Let God resurrect the dreams that will be the best for you. The most joy. The most, best of everything.
Maybe I’m not physically where I dreamed I’d be pushing 40. Nobody dreams of amputation, scars and heart failure. But there is more joy where I am than I could have ever imagined as well.
What dreams do you think God could be bringing back into your life? This blog (writing) is one of mine.
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