Relabeling the Boxes

I came across a video and story of a woman who had breast cancer. She was OK, and then got diagnosed with incurable, 4th stage bone cancer.

Her story was told by a photographer.

There is a video, and there are pictures and there is a supporting friend, and an incredible husband.

I share this work because of the beautiful message it relays in so many ways. I also share this message as a way to share how different people do cancer differently.

Jill (the person whose story it is) decides at one point that she is not going to wear a wig or fake eyelashes or prosthetics because it is "not her."

She decides to be with who she is - how she is - in that moment. I think there is such an incredible beauty in that. A part of me wishes I was there.

At the same time, a part of me likes to be different people at different times. A part of me likes to look in the mirror at times and see no trace of cancer's mark.

I realize that fact that I am wearing a wig is a "trace"but I don't see it that way. I look in the mirror and I see a resemblance to the person I once was.

Yesterday I told someone that the person I was a year ago no longer exists.

He disagreed. He said that she still was here - that he was talking to her right then.

I looked at the picture to the left, and felt like she was in some ways a stranger, or perhaps more appropriately, a memory.

In some ways, with or without the cancer, that would have still been the case. However having now related to the experience of cancer, the me of now looks at life differently than she did. She experiences life differently. She is more tired. She is more weary. She is more focused. She senses the urgency of life. She is more at peace with the terminal aspect of life. She has less time for nonsense. She is in some ways more resigned. She is in other ways more hopeful and optimistic. She has less patience. She is more patient. She is more self-aware, less self-conscious. She still has questions - lots of questions. And she still has few answers. She has been wounded more. She has hurt more. She has grown more. She has cried MANY more tears.

That person no longer exists.

But that isn't necessarily a bad thing. And yet a part of me seeks to identify with her. To connect with that piece of myself. It is that me that got me to this point because who she was was who I went into this as. Who she was was who I am was built upon.

That feels both "good" and "bad" to me. How much of who we are and what we experience is what we create? How much of what we create do we "need?" Perhaps it is not "right" to label cancer and other things of its type as "bad" because it then leaves one wondering about things that aren't necessarily helpful or healthy.

Is the fact that I had to deal with cancer my "fault?" Some, I am certain would say yes. But what if it wasn't so much my "fault" as much as it was my "choice." What if as I was coming to this world I chose these experiences to live? What if I wanted the lessons that they offered? What if the experience was the only way I was going to learn the things I have, and gain the perspectives that have resulted?

It would be nice to think that life could be sweet and and it would be nice to think that we could have all kinds of wonder and good and still be able to exist and grow. Maybe it is possible. Maybe it is already. Maybe we "mistakingly" label things like this as "bad." Maybe it is a thing to be in wonder of. Maybe it is a good thing that just got in the box labelled bad, and we believed the labeling.

If you have the time, check out the link above. It is a beautiful story and beautiful perspective told by some beautiful people who are relabeling the boxes.