Friday, September 10, 2010
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Skeletons
Despite the title, this post has nothing to do with Halloween, bones, or actual skeletons. It has to do with the fact that when I think of my public portrayal of my cancer experience at this point, it seems that cancer has become a bit of a skeleton in the closet of my life.
I've tucked cancer neatly away somewhere between old boyfriends and high school- in other words, it's in the section titled 'Past'- but that hasn't kept me from feeling like I need to pile things up in front of it so no one has to look at it or think about it.
Although I have made peace with cancer, it's not something I have been in the habit of discussing on a regular basis. There was a time when I could not imagine discussing my life without including cancer, because it was such a dominating force in my life. But since finishing treatment, I have made the conscious choice not to include cancer in certain facets of my existence, and the longer I find myself post-treatment, the more cancer-free areas of life I've created. However, I think the time may have come for me to stop intentionally omitting cancer from the facts of my life.
I have found myself, at times, telling half-truths to avoid the simple fact of cancer. For example, when asked about the arm sleeve I wear when exercising, I usually respond that i just 'hurt' my arm. Or when questioned about scars, I reply that I had surgery (duh). I think I do this because don't want to be identified solely as a survivor, because I am so many other things. I fear that telling people will limit me to being known just as 'the cancer survivor'. But I also don't want cancer to be a skeleton in my closet.
It's certainly not that I am not ashamed of what I have been through; I am proud to have survived. I just don't want being a survivor to define how people view me. But I think that at this point in the journey, I am prepared to tell my story because I hope that it might inspire someone else. That's the whole reason I created Hope, Love, Run. But if you haven't noticed, I have never said my name, provided describing characteristics, or a location. It is not an accident that just a fraction of the people who read this actually know my identity.
I have recently been presented with an opportunity to share my story in a potentially much more public way. I think I have come to the conclusion that I want to do this, and not with the sense of anonymity that comes with the online world; this time it will be with my face, my name, and my voice. I don't really know what the implications of this leap might be, but I think that it is an opportunity to reach others who are not as far out of treatment as I am. I hope that I can be an encouragement, an example, and a voice of hope that shows those that are still fighting that people do survive, thrive, and move on.
Here's to taking the leap!
Hope. Love. Run.
Marathon Girl
I've tucked cancer neatly away somewhere between old boyfriends and high school- in other words, it's in the section titled 'Past'- but that hasn't kept me from feeling like I need to pile things up in front of it so no one has to look at it or think about it.
Although I have made peace with cancer, it's not something I have been in the habit of discussing on a regular basis. There was a time when I could not imagine discussing my life without including cancer, because it was such a dominating force in my life. But since finishing treatment, I have made the conscious choice not to include cancer in certain facets of my existence, and the longer I find myself post-treatment, the more cancer-free areas of life I've created. However, I think the time may have come for me to stop intentionally omitting cancer from the facts of my life.
I have found myself, at times, telling half-truths to avoid the simple fact of cancer. For example, when asked about the arm sleeve I wear when exercising, I usually respond that i just 'hurt' my arm. Or when questioned about scars, I reply that I had surgery (duh). I think I do this because don't want to be identified solely as a survivor, because I am so many other things. I fear that telling people will limit me to being known just as 'the cancer survivor'. But I also don't want cancer to be a skeleton in my closet.
It's certainly not that I am not ashamed of what I have been through; I am proud to have survived. I just don't want being a survivor to define how people view me. But I think that at this point in the journey, I am prepared to tell my story because I hope that it might inspire someone else. That's the whole reason I created Hope, Love, Run. But if you haven't noticed, I have never said my name, provided describing characteristics, or a location. It is not an accident that just a fraction of the people who read this actually know my identity.
I have recently been presented with an opportunity to share my story in a potentially much more public way. I think I have come to the conclusion that I want to do this, and not with the sense of anonymity that comes with the online world; this time it will be with my face, my name, and my voice. I don't really know what the implications of this leap might be, but I think that it is an opportunity to reach others who are not as far out of treatment as I am. I hope that I can be an encouragement, an example, and a voice of hope that shows those that are still fighting that people do survive, thrive, and move on.
Here's to taking the leap!
Hope. Love. Run.
Marathon Girl
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