Embrace the Ordinary

At first glance, 2023 was not a friend to me. I might even daresay it was the worst year of my life! If I focused on all the bad things that happened this year.

• My husband was diagnosed with Multiple Myeloma
• Instead of the extremely slow progression of the disease we were led to expect, his body started rebelling almost from the beginning, landing him in the hospital 4 times for weeks at a time, devolving a vibrant athletic man into one who cannot walk without assistance.
• My mother’s health (pre-frontal dementia) began to decline more rapidly.
• And the day before Christmas Eve, I was hospitalized for emergency gall bladder surgery.

It would be so easy to look back on the past year, focusing on those dark moments and give in to a sense of depression or negativity, shaking my fist at the heavens and screaming,

“WHY ARE YOU PUNISHING ME?”

And in transparency, there were times when I thought just that. I am, after all, human.

But then, if I am truly viewing the past year through a neutral lens, absorbing the totality of the events of 2023, I have to point out the really cool things that occurred.

• My book, The Boy in the Basement was published.
• The book did really well, and I have received some soul affirming reviews that lifted me up, validating my desire to embrace my writing.
• As that new chapter unfolded, I met and collaborated with other authors across America and the United Kingdom, which has been exciting.
• The message of Secondary Trauma for Social Workers (which has always been a passion of mine and was paramount subplot in the novel) is being recognized on a world stage.

Therefore, in retrospect, I have experienced some awful and some amazing days this year. When I came across the below quote, it resonated deeply for me, for it spoke truth of what we all go through every day.

Let it sink in.

Today, my thoughts involve the much maligned ordinary. I challenge you to exhale through the ordinary. For, to me, it is in the ordinary that we truly live. 

If you are around me for very long, you will note that I tend to always be juggling three or four things as I navigate the fast lane to my next task. My wheelhouse extols the virtues of efficiency, positivity and accomplishment. I am happy in my own internal strengths and feel called to help others whenever I can. 

This year, God put me in a position where I had to slow down. 

I mean, REALLY SLOW DOWN.

For those who have also navigated cancer treatment, as caregivers, you will understand when I explain that weekly treatment day is comprised solely of waiting…waiting…waiting.

• Wait to get labs
• Wait to check in
• Wait to see the doctor
• Wait for the chemo pod
• Wait for the chemo drugs to be delivered to the pod each time (why they don’t order ahead I do not know)
• Wait while chemo is being injected
• Wait to see if there will be side effects
• Wait for the car to be returned

In other words, you may arrive at 7am, but sometimes you do not leave until 4:00. 

By now you may have surmised: I DON’T LIKE TO WAIT.

For anything.

Picture a souped up auto, grinding gears and revving the motor all while waiting for an incessantly long traffic light to turn. That was how I felt when we started the regimen.

For the first few months, I thought I would just scream! I brought work with me. I brought books with me. I brought my I pad so I could write. But the constant revving of my motor rendered those activities ineffective. I smiled on the outside, and assured my husband throughout each treatment, but inside I was practicing my vagal breathing in an attempt to stop the inner scream ordering me to run.

Then, over a period of several weeks, an interesting thing started to happen. I began to relax during those waiting periods. I can’t put my finger on just when it started, but little by little, the wait became bearable. I started noticing more of my surroundings, and realized that this was not at all about me. Watching other’s waiting in their own little hell ignited the empathy in me for their plight. I watched nurses and doctors running to help everybody all at once and wondered who was caring for their needs. As I wondered at this little self-sustaining universe of treatment, I began to join the tribe and share affinity with them. In that belonging, I was able to read, write and work during the down times without the revving motor or grinding gears. I had learned to idle.

As I applied the newfound skill of idling in other aspects of my life, the art of noticing and appreciation joined. Taken in collectively, I was amazed at the circle of support that had gathered and surrounded my family. Where did they come from?

Don’t you see? I HAVE ALWAYS BEEN THE ONE WHO SUPPORTS! How did all of these wonderful supports develop around me? I never asked for help (another fault I am working on) but help came anyway. And with the help came the acknowledgement that it was OK for me to not have to be on top of everything at the same time.

Most amazingly, my 29-year-old daughter metamorphosized into the most efficient, responsible and competent care giver. When I couldn’t take Mark to appointments, she always jumped in. Watching her empathy and gentleness with him filled me with wonder. They began to forge a stronger bond throughout this ordeal as her kindness, patience and love towards him fostered a blossoming relationship between step-dad and step-daughter. Then at Christmas, I became temporarily incapacitated after my surgery. Without complaint and without needing to be asked, she stepped in and took care of both of us. 

So, 2023 had some dark moments for sure, but if I am looking back and can capture the bright spots, I must admit, I can see the blessings that came my way this year as well. And the most powerful moments were not in the amazing or in the worst .

The Joy Came In The Ordinary.