I Am Going On A Hero's Journey

In case you were on a cliff hanger from my “This morning I see the oncologist” article, here’s the update.

No other shoe dropped. She didn’t look at me with sadness and say, “We found something new.” Nor did she say my hair would never grow back, either. All of my imaginings and fears that had me wrapped up tighter than…. Nada.

What she said, “You are a survivor! You are finished!” We discussed some of the chemo aftershock effects-namely, the intense aching in my legs and tingly hands and feet here and there. There is random other shit too, but nothing horrific.

She told me that what I have been through is not unlike going through a major car accident. “This will take a year for you to recover from.” She repeated this. Exhorted me to be patient with myself and the healing from the trauma.

I mewed about the 20# I’ve gained. She smiled. “That’s okay.”

Then she reiterated, “You are a survivor.”

Overall, it was positive and filled with hope. Future check-ins will be to monitor my tolerance of an estrogen hormone blocker since estrogen fueled my tumors. I won’t even need a blood test. Even a virtual visit will be okay.

“We are here for you. Don’t hesitate to contact us through the portal. I am available to talk to you as well,” Dr. Mena said.

Oh, Mayo. You have been so outstanding in caring for me. Thank you. I love each and one of you healing angels.

Now, in normal people land, this would be great cause for rejoicing but in “I’m whacked out from stress worrying about the doctor appointment” land, well, let’s just say that I focused my energy on just trying to calm down.

It’s hard to just switch gears when you’re in full on anxiety mode.

To have the “all clear” signal is so freeing but also unsettling because the next question is: what’s next? I’m all better now, right?

Do I jump back into work? Amp up the demands on myself even more than the unhealthy level that has been my habit? What does recuperating from a major surgery, chemotherapy and a host of anxiety producing testing look like? And fer-god-sake, this balding head of mine is hard to cope with. Oh, I still have plenty of hair but there is plenty gone too.

I can hear my oncologist repeating, “This is going to take a year to recover.” Be patient with yourself, she said.

I have been so amped up with stress and my go-to has always been physical activity and just getting my hands dirty with something to do. Do I let organizing clients know I am now open and ready for business, even though the scar from the port removal is still painful? Start looking for internet strategies to gain coaching and spiritual direction clients?

Do I report back to work ASAP because I need an income sooner than later?

I know I need to calm down. And I’m finding that really hard to do.

I’ve been trying to apply my training as a life coach and now as a graduate of a Benedictine spiritual director program. Listen with the ear of your heart is the Benedictine rule.

I figure that is the first thing I need to do. Listen. Sit in silence and try to listen to what my heart is speaking. Asking myself “what feels peaceful?” And to steal Marie Kondo’s line, “What sparks joy?”

And this is where I ended up in scary, scary waters. Because I realized I am not ready to head back to Michigan right now with the love of my life, Tom.

I had growing unrest. My reasoning is screaming, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?

But in my heart, I feel I need some time alone before the next chapter with Tom unfolds. It feels cruel and scary. I don’t want to be away from him. But the fresh changes this brings just feel like too much right now.

What makes this even more fun is the fact that I now have no home. All my stuff is in storage. I sold my car thinking I wouldn’t need it since we were going to MI and I didn’t want to pay for storage. I gave away my cat, for fuck’s sake.

What a fine fettle. Tom will head back to Michigan sans me.

And I?

I want to go on a hero’s journey. I found a reasonable car to buy and this week, I will pack it up and hit the road, alone. My eye faucets will be flowing. A lot.

I need solitude and silence. Nature is what I need. My kids and friends are in Montana and I need to see them. I have been “strong” for a very long time and now I need to rest. I need to pause. To let my spirit catch up with me.

I need to process the divorce-it’s still fresh. To learn to love my body. To imagine the new me. I know she’s boobless, but I suspect I will discover more.

I need to release Tom for a brief season while I do these things. It can only help the wonderful relationship we have enjoyed these past several months. This too scares the daylights out of me because, uh, yeah, I’ve been seriously rejected in the past and this can trigger me.

My meanderings will take me back to my beloved in a month or two and I hope he will find me in a better, more clear-headed/hearted state.

I’m not expecting miracles. Mind you, a month or two is not long. I have a lot of healing to that needs to take place.

But all I know is I am trying to listen with the ear of my heart and right now my heart is telling me I need to pause… to breathe… to trust all will unfold as it needs to. I don’t know what the logistics look like right now but I trust that this, that my hero’s journey will lead me back to me.

Theresa Winn is a certified life coach and spiritual director. She loves being flat and cancer free. Her next book, “Bye-Bye Boobs-Breast Cancer, Boobectomies and Badassery” is in the works.