And maybe that's part of the problem, the idea of having any kind of expectations at all.
But I always thought, "I am authentic and loving and vulnerable and ... things always work out."
A million people before me have thought exactly the same thing. And a million people after me will think exactly the same thing...
And their hearts will be broken.
I thought I could predict the universe. I thought that just being myself was enough.
I am an idiot.
To be totally honest, I thought they were going to tell me that I was going to die 2.5 years ago. The expectation haunts me today and always. I can't imagine it not haunting me. If I turn away for just a moment... to climb a mountain or explore a new continent... will it get me?
I spent an epic evening outside with some amazing girlfriends and we talked about the issues at hand and I touched on my struggles and my fears and they were very clear:
"I don't care if you can run or ride your bike. You need to stay here with us."
To be clear, I am not losing my legs, nor am I suicidal. Exactly the opposite, actually. Measures applied, once again, to protect life. My uterus isn't tolerating the medicine I need to take to prevent a recurrence of breast cancer. What seems like a billion tests later and some recommendations from two (yes, I now have two) oncologists... The reality is said out loud. By a doctor. A gynecologist. The same gynecologist who told me that they don't take these measures on young women unless they need to.
And in one word, a million hopes and dreams were sucked right out of me. Literally... Life was sucked from my very being. Half a human. I wonder a hundred times over what would have happened if I'd followed the rules, gone against my instinct, married young and had babies immediately. I wonder what it would be like to feel a baby growing inside me and the joy and pain of childbirth and the sensation of nursing... I wonder how amazing it would be to grow and raise a child with all the strength and femininity I was born with.
If they take my breasts and and all of my reproductive organs (and my long, flowing hair)... What makes me a woman?
A million questions followed by a million emotions follow: Who will want me now? Half of the person I used to be (but really, still about 1/4 more of the person I used to be) - struggling to find the light.
I came home from the appointment that day and sobbed and sobbed. I couldn't make any phone calls. I couldn't really explain it to anyone. Like my girlfriends tonight, they all want to see the light - but they all have their own light... children, partners, a life that they at least present to feel al little bit of control over... The phrase kept running over me again and again:
Wild hearts can be broken.
And it is.
It is my nature to find goodness in bullshit and this is no exception. I am angry and sad and feeling a little bit (lot) like life has been sucked out of me. But I cannot sink in this.
I just can't. Life is pretty fucking valuable and I'm pretty fucking happy to have it. And it isn't at all what I thought it would be... but at the end of this day I'm pretty confident in this:
I have life. Life is rad.
So far, things have happened exactly the way they're supposed to.
I have always had a way with loving other people's babies.
Consolation? No. It just is.
Energy out, energy in. Grief and pain and tears and a lot of love... exactly.