When a tornado destroys most of your house, you begin to understand what’s important. You see how cluttered your life has been with things you never consciously chose. You notice what’s meaningful. Sort through what’s not. You search for poetry books under the wreckage.
At least, I did.
A Second Act on Substack
It’s been difficult for me to admit how much a bout with breast cancer has changed me. It’s a cliché, I know. I had a false start on Substack last summer, before my diagnosis. And, while I’ve made efforts to keep writing during treatment, I was rarely able to cut through the brain fog. When I could focus enough to read, I turned to Lucille Clifton (the terrible stories) and Audre Lorde (The Cancer Journals). Leonard** took a significant bite out of the Lorde journals. I keep trying to figure out what that bite is a metaphor for, but haven’t come up with anything yet. I still search for meaning in everything. But despite all the platitudes, meaning doesn’t always provide comfort. That something is, is meaningful with all its facets, considered from all perspectives.
I’ve slipped into another body. Sometimes slowly, and sometimes in sudden, violent moments. Poisons. Surgery.
I move this body differently.
But this metaphorical tornado hasn’t been negative on the whole: my life feels much lighter now. I’m more aware of the fact that I walk on the earth, but am not a part of it. Sure, “from dust to dust”, but in this in-between time I’m as isolated and animated as a soap bubble. There’s a lightness here that I never noticed, much less surrendered to. I’ve been chasing ease for so long, but always while chasing the “be better”. It’s ironic that I find ease now, during illness.
I breathe differently. I’ve lived my entire life letting fear wrap around my ribcage.
I cry fairly often now. I can’t explain why. But now, having given up earbuds and podcasts when I take the train or walk the dog, I come closer to knowing why. I pay attention to the quiet.
Explaining? Well, that’s just a matter of finding the right metaphors.
A note to current subscribers: Still part of Mad Orphan Lit, but with a narrower focus.
Thank you all for sticking around while I got my act together!
*Center Stage
**My very chill Finnish foxhound.
I can relate to so much of what you are talking about. I am changed , not necessarily worse, but different, and in many ways better. And definitely lighter as I let a lot of things fall away that I might have previously carried.
I totally understand what you mean about that lightness. For me, I'll paraphrase you - "I’ve been chasing ease for so long, but always while chasing the better.”