Grief is a Snow Globe

Lots of shaken, messy thoughts which eventually settle

Our household was hit hard with the new Covid stomach bug the last few days, resulting in canceled holiday travel plans. There are moments of complete joy in the stillness, in the just being with my amazing little family. And then something triggers me, and a flurry of toxic, unhelpful thoughts get thrown into the mix. Maybe you can relate?

Gratitude for now- this time last year, I was starting A/C (aka Red Devil), and my hair was falling out in chunks; I was neutropenic, dealing with blood transfusions and crazy reactions to carboplatin. My son was so distressed by my condition that I was getting calls from school, my daughter oblivious but caught up in the cancerous mess. I had no clue if chemo was even working. My marriage buckled under the pressure. No matter how shitty we feel this year, I am so grateful for how far I’ve come, and just so grateful that I’m here, not there.

December ‘22. Round 12. About to start A/C, had to mask around my kids.

Grief for time lost- the way holidays become synonymous with the most “magical days” of our lives feels like too much pressure to add to my very complex relationship with time. Holidays feel so performative, but I get caught up. Since my diagnosis, I have felt a constant feeling of scarcity as it relates to time- there is never enough in this life.

When I was really in the depths of chemo, I swore that I would never waste another minute, and now I am acutely aware of whether time is being “well spent” or not. The problem with this is that it’s counterintuitive- I spend more time worrying that I’m running out than actually being present at the moment. It reminds me of the Rumi quote: life is a balance of holding on and letting go.

I miss my hair- this one is simple. I just miss my hair and feeling genuinely good in my skin. I’ve gotten good at figuring out how to make it work, remembering that it will grow, and just appreciating what I have (eyelashes, eyebrows!) but I dream about putting my hair up in a ponytail weekly. I guess what I really miss is just life as I once knew it. Long hair me was the pre-cancer me.

Never enoughness - this sounds irrational, but I feel really guilty that my kids got a “faulty” mom. A lemon. I’m always so tired, I never feel like I’m doing enough even though I simultaneously feel like I’m doing too much for my body to handle. The holidays remind me of how limited my energy is, and I resent that I don’t have the same physical resources as other healthy moms out there. I feel like a burden when I need help, and I hate that there isn’t more of me to give. This leads me to my next issue…

I blame myself- on a deeper level, I obsessively wonder if I am the victim or the culprit of cancer. I have lists of suspicions and offenses related to my diagnosis, and it seems a new pastime is just ruminating on all the reasons I caused it through neglect. I think the way that food and alcohol is everywhere during the holidays intensifies the obsession with solving a mystery that I know I will never really solve.

Gratitude for this community- I believe cancer has given me gifts. Or maybe it’s more empowering to believe that I’ve created the gifts. Either way, this community feels like a gift to me, and I am immensely grateful to know I am not alone. It’s messy, weird, triggering, comforting, and all the things, but I am grateful that I never really have to wonder if someone else gets it.

My wish for 2024 is that we continue to find all the other mothers who are dealing with cancer and seeking community and invite them to this safe space where they can feel seen and understood (so please share with others!). My personal goal is to learn how to better serve the community so that it can continue to grow in to something truly helpful.

Thank you for being a part of this community. Here’s to a happier and healthier 2024.

Yours truly,

Marcella