This is just one of those nights where my emotions are torn in so many directions. Receiving my formal diagnosis left me feeling relieved, but weary, so I haven’t written this week as I’ve collected myself again. Then after that, my mind has been full with some pressing concerns of some clients I work with. Sometimes being a therapist is simultaneously a burden and an honour, and the trick is to learn to navigate as safely as you can to a place where you keep perspective and can still see forward.
It has also been a reflective day today as I found out that an old friend of mine who is fighting cancer has received some disappointing news. My mind and thoughts have been with her as she’s hit a bump in her road, and I’ve been trying to think what I could possibly say to send her hope and encouragement. Words don’t seem to come though. There aren’t really magic words, are there? That news has also had me remembering my own stepdad’s battle with cancer with all its ups and downs. I hate cancer!
So, much as I want magic words, those same words all sound hollow, so instead I’m just sharing, possibly with her, this ache and bit of peace, to know there are many who love her and are there with her in our hearts tonight. I hope she doesn’t feel alone. I hope she can feel us all sending our faith and hope to buoy her up now.
People talk about challenges making us strong, but I think the most valuable thing in those moments of trial is finding something that’s real. It’s okay if your heart aches. You can be strong and weep too.
So I guess instead of magic words, that’s the gift we can offer–to try to be there and weep together, but still counting ourselves as warriors. I hope I can be that real friend to the people I care about.
And then in the midst of all this reflection, or maybe because of it, I’ve been keenly aware of my girls tonight. They had their school fête tonight. Isn’t it interesting how children can be so free and full of joy sometimes? I watched the kids run around gleefully, content with life after making a princess hat, painting faces, and winning something in the tombola. There’s something beautiful in watching simple pleasure, even when there’s grief and disappointment.
I guess that’s the journey we signed up for. I am learning that we don’t have joy without pain, trust without risk, love without the possibility of loss. I just hope I can keep my heart open to where I need to be to best take it in.