“I’m so sorry I can’t go tonight."
That gutted feeling when you let someone (and yourself) down, and why there there...it's ok.
We sat knee to knee on the couch, with ur eyes closed, and hands held, for five minutes, and envisioned one year from today.
“I think my office Christmas party might be in Alaska next year,” he said.
“Perfect,” I said, as I closed my eyes with a smile on my face ready to dream.
Ten minutes earlier, my heart dropped as he told me how sad he was that I couldn’t go to his Christmas party that night. His face, the one that has been stoic and even keeled all 6 years I’ve known him, is now showing signs of sadness.
“That’s what you get for asking him to work on his emotional availability,” I think to myself.
What I get is that gutted feeling of letting someone down. Of causing them pain. Even if it’s not my fault and definitely not on purpose. I get his pain on top of mine. But I’d still take that any day over the emptiness of emotional shutdown.
So I close my eyes and I imagine the dress I’ll buy. My hair in a loose ponytail, I show up to his office party glowing.
We’re staying at a fancy hotel in downtown Anchorage within walking distance to some fun shops and bars and restaurants. I buy a new jacket just for this trip. I have cocktails, tequila. And eat everything on the charcuterie board without a second thought. We walk down the wintery roads with twinkle lights lining the streets. I’ve never been to Alaska so I spent weeks leading up to the trip finding cool stuff for us to do. I ask my friend who lives nearby to come visit, “leave the kids at home.”
The 5 minute timer rings and we open our eyes and share our visions with each other, still holding hands. He sees me in a dress made out of a matching track suit to his. I see myself in a sexy little number with tights and platform mary-janes. We both see each other and ourselves happy.
“I’m so sorry I can’t go tonight. I’m really sad about that.”
“Me too.” he says
And then we agree to look at this choice not to go as an investment in our future and in my recovery, which even if that never comes, is a more meaningful and fun way to spend five minutes than imagining the opposite. He goes in his track suit, FaceTimes me from the table, and we leave the evening feeling connected to each other. It’s a win in my book.
Lately, I’ve been trying to feel better within the illnesses I’m dealing with. There’s so little I can control about the body, but there is a lot I can control about my habits, choices, and thoughts, and so that’s what I’ve been working on.
I’m trying to get out of the cycle I was in of going to the metaphorical office party even though I wasn’t feeling good enough to go, crashing afterwards, getting a little better, and then doing the whole thing over again with whatever “office party” showed up the next week.
I’m trying to have less crashes and more stability, and part of that is saying no to things, even more things than I already do (which is a lot), in service of my own self and small changes in my symptoms.
I remember when I got cancer, a lot of people told me that it was an opportunity to put myself truly first, and that my ONLY job was to get through it. And so I took that opportunity. I didn’t do one thing I didn’t want to or couldn’t do, which honestly was almost everything. I looked at healing as though it was my job. But once I was done with that kind of debilitation, I slowly came back to choosing things I shouldn’t or couldn’t be doing for the sake of either someone else’s wants for me, but mostly my own wants for myself. I didn’t want to miss the office party because I wasn’t sure if I’d ever have another one. I didn’t want to miss the baseball game because if this was my last year to live, I’d have wanted that experience.
Cancer makes you have to make choices like this a lot. The hypothetical “if you have one year left to live” questions become more and more real, and for me, I have been living as though my end-date would be sooner rather than later. So my choices have been more “this week” instead of “this life.”
And while that way of thinking isn’t completely gone, right now, I do feel more hopeful about these tiny changes that are in my hands, and it feels fun to dream, even if those dreams never come true. They might not, but they might. How can I possibly know the future?
I used to look at dreams in a different way. They were fun places to go inside my head, letting my thoughts run free with scenarios that would excite and delight me. I never needed those dreams to come true in order to fuel my motivation for keeping them alive. They didn’t have any pressure on them. They were FUN.
And then through sickness and illness, dreams became PAINFUL. Each dream I had that didn’t come true became a notch on my belt that squeezed the life out of me. Dreams were never supposed to be plans, but they turned into that for me along the way.
So while it hasn’t been easy to come back to them, that’s what I’m trying to do right now. Last week in my letter, I shared this concept with you, and here I am again sharing how it showed up for me this week.
I really appreciate you being here and reading how I’m slowly breathing life back into dreaming. Having a witness, even if it’s just some words on a page on the internet, is helping me keep a record of this experience and being held within it, and for that, I’m so very grateful.
If you would like to share a dream in the comments below, I’d love to be a witness for you too.
XO
S
P.s. Below is a pic of me and bae for my paid subscribers. This is not a good pic of me. And usually I only post pics where I look hot because duh. But this is us. Me tired and having come off of some crying the night before, with puffy eyes and dark circles. Him looking sturdy per usual, blue eyes poppin with his fav flannel shirt. Perfectly snowcapped fir trees outside against a perfect blue sky. This was taken during my birthday cabin stay in October with three of my dear friends (which is a dream that DID come true) where the seed of dreams was planted and watered again and again and again.