Hesitation

I live in these moments of hesitation. As if maybe I shouldn't be enjoying life so much, because at any given moment my world could come crashing down around me. That's the thing about life after cancer.. you're left living constantly on your toes. Wondering when will all of those feelings resurface. Wondering when your next meltdown will be. Wondering when all of the horrors you faced will come flooding back in without an invitation and with absolutely no warning. It's the space between remaining stagnant and being propelled ahead, with endless forward motion. There have been so many days where seemingly out of nowhere, my anxiety has peaked and my heart is pounding just because a simple building holds horrible memories. Or my thoughts race back to getting my heart broken in the midst of all of that trauma, making the whole experience that much more unbearable. I'm much more guarded now. With my life and especially my heart. I'm continuing to walk forward in life, but it feels as though I always have one eye over my shoulder. Watching. Waiting. 

Making a comeback

It's been months since I've updated here, and I regret my drop off in commitment to this blog, especially since SO MUCH has happened since my last entry in October. I'm not even sure I can remember it all. Finishing training for my new job, finishing Herceptin, starting Tamoxifen, Penny the Port's excavation, starting a new relationship, going to Atlanta for the Young Survival Coaltion Conference and meeting the founder and CEO of Barbells for Boobs and getting to stay with her and teach CrossFit classes with her, going to Disneyland (again), going to Maui with an organization called Athletes for Cancer and surfing for the first time ever, watching two of my best friends get married, passing my CrossFit Level-1 trainer course, and ending said new relationship. Well, to name a few things... Hopefully I can eventually back track and update about them all.

I've honestly only recently thought of this blog again due to the "memories" feature on Facebook. Otherwise, it has been pretty far removed from my thoughts. It appears that the further removed I get from my cancer treatment, the less associated with it I want to be, which makes sense, right? Why would I want to keep thinking about it? Who wants to constantly be reminded of the worst thing that's ever happened to them? But the reality is, this blog was my saving grace during treatment. It was an outlet. A place to vent, to update people on what was happening in my life, and outlet for me at a time when it felt like no one really understood me. Since Herceptin ended, I've really struggled with the thought that maybe I'm spending too much time looking backwards at what my life with cancer was like and not enough time moving forward in my life beyond cancer. I've found myself constantly using that memories feature on Facebook to see what I posted on that day last year, and how I was feeling, what was said, or who commented on my status updates. And not that that's a bad thing. It has filled me with so much love for all of the amazing people that have commented and helped me through this hell. It seriously fills my heart to the brim knowing how many people have been supporting me whether I've been aware of it or not. I'm just afraid that I'm not living in the now enough. Trying to find the balance is hard. Now that I feel almost normal again, especially with the now empty space on my chest that Penny the Port once occupied, the reality of my cancer almost shocks me. That actually happened. I had cancer. And not even that long ago, either. I feel better than I did pre-cancer. My body has become incredibly strong, I'm starting to love my reflection again, my scars are fading and I am doing my best to accept them, my hair is growing back in, and I have this genuine love and appreciation for life every. single. day. I'm not kidding when I say that sometimes it feels like my heart might burst with happiness (I know, I know - how cheesy am I?)

I guess my biggest concern with continuing to look back at this chapter is that I so very adamantly don't want it to define me. I don't want to constantly be saying "Well, when I had cancer..." I suppose this struggle is part of the "new normal" that us cancer patients hear so much about. My whole identity was wrapped up in my cancer treatment for a year and a half. It's hard to figure out who to be after that identity gets changed. What I do know is that I love myself a whole hell of a lot more than I did even two years ago. I have so much more respect for life and the people around me. And I'm just constantly grateful to be alive.

I hope to keep updating this. And I'll try to make posts about my adventures from recent months, as well as write about what's to come in the upcoming months!