Finding Hope Through the Pain

Only seven months ago, a doctor looked me in the face and told me that I almost died and he didn’t know if my heart would ever recover. Part of me just accepted that it could be the end. But he was wrong and here I am at the end of August, sitting in my bed with my legs crossed somehow writing like that was just some distant memory. My hair is growing back. My face is finally getting color back in it. I go to cardiac rehab twice a week. I flew on a plane across the country. And yet, the scars remain. When I look in the mirror everyday, I can feel how deeply it all affected me. Your eyes can’t lie to you. It’s not something that just disappears. I wish it would. I wish so badly at times that I never had to know the meaning of ECMO or to be asked if you are considered to be “in remission.”

In all my 25 years, I’ve learned that I have to keep showing up for myself though. You can’t fill a void with anything external. Through the illness, the agonizing depression and the soul-crushing heartbreak that left my heart in pieces, I’m slowly picking the shards back up — even if the memories are so raw at times that it feels insurmountable. I feel everything so deeply even when I wish I felt nothing. But, miraculously, I keep going. I’m trying different cancer support groups, I’m going to therapy every week, I’m interviewing for meaningful jobs and I even  took my first yoga class in nearly a year. Maybe how you know you’ve hit rock bottom is when you spend your weekends searching for a good book club. 

Despite being in the process of rebuilding my life from the ground up, it somehow feels like a breath of fresh air. Like I can finally breathe after holding my breath for a year and a half in treatment. Going through chemo and radiation makes everything feel like there is this giant pause button on your life. Finally, I can hit play. It may not be the prettiest picture yet, but I can see it all starting to come together now. I see the version of myself that will one day look back at this moment and smile at how strong I am.

That doesn’t mean it isn’t scary. The unknowns are terrifying. Unexpected obstacles can arise at any time. But one thing I learned from all of my health issues is that all we can do is live life day by day. Not every moment will be happy, but every moment matters and makes you who you are. Even if I wish I could never be the girl who had cancer twice, it has shaped me into who I am and what I want to do with the rest of my life. It’s given me this extreme desire to write, to work with nonprofits and help uplift other people’s amazing stories. 

This is your sign to keep going. Feel all of the pain, even when it hurts so badly you can barely breathe. Don’t run from it. One day, that pain will have a purpose,  even if you can’t see it now. Even as I write this, I don’t know if I fully believe it — but hope is sometimes the only thing we can cling to. And maybe that’s enough.