Some of my family members and longtime friends would likely describe me as contrary.
They’re not wrong.
Growing up, I wanted to please everyone and be loved by everyone. I often felt overshadowed by my older sister. She had a lot of issues as a teenager, and her problems took our parents’ time. Part of me was glad she took so much time and energy because that was time I could spend on my own reading a book, writing stories, riding my bike, hanging out at my best friend’s house, daydreaming. Part of me resented she took so much time and energy, though, and it festered, bubbled through my teenage years.
When I was a teenager, I wasn’t a disaster, but I needed help…guidance, and I found it at my family’s church. I found people who realized how angry I was under the surface. I guess I began perfecting those masks and facades decades ago. They, though, refused, absolutely refused, to allow me to believe the worst about myself or the worst in myself. They refused to let me fall because I had people predicting, to me, I would be like my sister, and it made me so, so angry. They were some of the first people in my life to teach me how to block someone or something negative, and it was a lesson I needed.
I remember being seven years old and watching my mom cry about something my sister had done. I promised myself, with all childhood innocence and intensity, I would do everything possible to make sure my mom never cried like that because of me. I worked hard in school, I had a small, but close, group of friends, and I had a job. I wasn’t like my sister, yet for some, I was guilty by association. It infuriated me. And, I took to being the quiet one. The observer. The wallflower. It was easier on my soul to seek solitude, to watch from the back, to loathe the spotlight. Yet, I’m a people person, and my soul craved friends, which I had, but a lot of times, my contradictory need for solitude and my need for exuberance frustrated them
I’m a contrary soul.
Flash forward 20 years. I was 18 then. I’m 38 now. As I’ve dealt with this past year, I’ve found my need for solitude is as strong as it was when I was a kid. I need time to be quiet, to think, to read, to write, to daydream, to settle. Yet, I need my friends, I need to be around others, I need to help, to give of myself, to be a support to those who’ve supported me.
Tonight, it hit me, strongly, how very tired I am. I’m weary. I’m not anxious. I’m not sad. I’m not on the verge of a panic attack. I’m just weary. My soul craves solitude. I need time to reflect, to think, to plan. I need to sleep well. I need to go more than 8 weeks without a treatment, procedure, or an appointment. It’s mindbloggling to me, the timeline of this last year. I had a one month break between finishing chemo and my mastectomy, a three week break after the mastectomy to starting radiation, a three month break after radiation ended to my reconstruction, and an eight week break before my most recent procedure-removing my port.
September 2015-January 2016: Chemo, Perjeta, Herceptin every single three weeks. 6 hour infusions. Intense treatment.
February 2016: Bilateral mastectomy with auxiliary node dissection while continuing Herceptin.
February 2016 through April 2016: Radiation while continuing Herceptin. Intense radiation. Echocardiogram for heart function. CT scans daily
May 2016: Herceptin. No procedures.
June 2016: Herceptin. No procedures. Echocardiogram for heart function
July 2016: DIEP reconstruction while continuing Herceptin.
August 2016: Went back to work 15 days post DIEP while continuing Herceptin.
September 2016: DIEP abdominal complications. Last Herceptin.
October 2016: Port removal procedure
So, I’m weary. I’m just tired. I can’t be everything to everyone no matter how much I want to be because my soul needs me to recognize I have limits.
I can’t argue with friends who refuse to listen to logic because my soul needs me to understand it’s not my job to please every one. It’s my job to take care of me.
My soul and I agree on one thing: I’m doing better at taking care of me. I find time to meditate. I find time to read. I find time to be alone. My soul needs me to honor my needs. I can’t be me if part of me is just this weary.
I can’t fix all the problems. I can’t be mad when I have FOMO (fear of missing out) happening. I can’t allow myself to do always for others and nothing for myself because I hate being the contrary soul.
My soul, though, needs me to embrace its contrariness, to remember it’s ok to need people and solitude, to belong yet not belong. It’s ok to be me. I was this way before cancer. I’m this way after cancer. I’m meant to be this way. What my soul needs is for me to remember that, to honor that, and most of all, to accept that because if I can’t or won’t remember, honor, and accept myself, who will?