Comin Under Fire

The complexities of cancer psychology or survivorship psychology are directly in my face right now. Clearly I seek them out and pick fights on purpose because that's just how I roll. Yesterday, I broke down in tears because it was brought to my attention that I was part of an evil scheme to hurt someone's feelings. It was the perfect storm to which I was culpable and I knew it. Drawn in to a new experience of love and second chances at life, I failed to focus and act like a grown up. Right. If A, then B, where B is a list of potential consequences, positive and not so positive. I selectively decided that the negative consequences simply could not exist and struck them  from my viewscape. Whoops.
"If anything can go right, it will, at the best possible moment." Except when it doesn't and you realize just a little too late that not everybody is onboard the love train.
My experience with cancer has magnified every emotion I have times 50. When I am sad, I am deeply sad. When I am happy, I am off the charts. And when I love, I love deeply and openly. When your paths cross with someone who is arrogant, ignorant or muted, the contrast is significant.
Cancer survivors live every moment as if it were their last because we now know what that last moment looks like. "Mrs. Robinson, you have cancer." BAM. There goes your hair, your eyebrows, your skin, your nails, and you get to spend Christmas looking like Uncle Fester. It's in that moment that your life changes not when you are ravaged by the cancer itself or the treatments that take time to break you down. Outward signs won't be visible for months but inside, the life is literally sucked right out of you.
Any other moment is a bonus. A gift. Every connection with a friend. Every moment of laughter with your kids. Every drop of ice cold water on a scorching, hot day. That is what survivorship is like, all with the unpredictable possibility that Cancer is silently waiting to creep up on you. For me, my lack of prudence conflicts with  social acceptability everyday . Frivolity is a way of life. The distances between emotions are far greater also. Just when you are having the absolute best day, an emotional ripple drives you to the depths of your despair. The waterworks begin and and you can't conjure a single positive thought.
It's not easy on your loved ones.
"What's wrong?"
<sobbing> "I'm in trouble..." ( a poor choice of words since this can mean any number of things like, I got pulled over, I lost my cell phone, we're pregnant, I washed the whites with the reds again or my cancer is back.)
"What's this about?"
"I'm an insensitive jerk."
"And...."
I tell him my story.  He is not moved by the events that I describe that are contributing to the Belagio-esque fountain show. He brings me back to reality. He reminds me that  I am not responsible for the happiness of the entire world. Only my own, and unhappy people are unhappy with or without my input.
"Now be happy," he says. "You promised," in reference to our wedding vows.
"I didn't promise to be happy," I retort. "I promised to love with an open heart and take naps often.."
"Nope, you promised to be happy, to love and OBEY right down there," as he points to the spot on our property where we were married.
"OBEY?!?  I don't f*&^%ing think so!" He KNOWS that this statement riles me into attack mode. He knows I will react and he knows I will once again be inspired to  put myself out there as always out of pure obstinacy and rebellion alone. It is in this knowing that I have placed my trust and faith of all I deem important. I am reminded that this moment is brought to me by my own perseverance to explore the very deep and emotional connections that drive my soul with what little time I have left. Consequences are unknown but living fully always results in a lesson of great importance or a reminder that the rest of the world has not fully evolved into a similar place of love, faith and trust. However, it is my world and I get to live in it one more day, without boundaries, ceilings or protocols, or Uncle Fester staring back at me in the mirror.