Sharing the cancer journey with you through, appropriately, this Lenten season has been a privilege, a terrible honour.
Yesterday I sat down for a few minutes to take drink, and when I made to rise to continue work upon the aeroplane (it took three tries) I could see that walking across half of the room would take everything I had, and it did. I was battered on the storm-rocks of pain, but each step (once such a thoughtless act!) was sweetly redolent of salvation,
a self-deliverance from the prison of despair.
It was almost fun, and to paraphrase Keith Richards, "when you're going to kick cancer in the teeth, you may as well use both feet."
How with so much pain can you find the energy to give so much to those who read your writings each day? I surely see God‘s hand in all of this. Do you? Do you feel his presence as you walk this valley? Your wisdom, your courage, your dogged determination,your compassion and caring for others in this sweet community, are all signs,I believe, of your sweet communion with your holy and loving companion who never leaves you– – your God.
Honored, Andrew, that you have shared this weighty journey with us—I hope that knowing you’ve got caring witnesses will be of some comfort. God’s blessings!
You say you still care to be here. I care that you are here. Your words hold much that blesses me in the darkness. My only child died by suicide at 39. Finished, done. Life,just being here, is hope in each moment. I celebrate you made it across the room.
Andrew, there are not sufficient words to express my admiration and deep gratitude to you. I’m humbled by your generosity in sharing this time with us. You have become an inspiration to me. I can only hope to meet the end of my days with a fraction of the dignity, grace, courage and humor that you possess. Sending love to you, my brother.
Thank you for such raw vulnerability and for truly helping shape a new perspective on life for me this Lent. I am so grateful for your sharing and for this community that seeks to support and uplift you and everyone in it. Your words are a special gift.
“that the step which must come next would be far past agony” i cannot even begin to imagine such pain and passing through and yet i see it in the deep sorrow and loss of a child and grandchildren and welcome the hope of passing through
Thank you Andrew, for trusting us with your story. I’m not a writer, please know that I’m here with you and hoping this group helps you to feel tethered and comforted.
Thank you, Andrew, for continuing to share, for continuing to have faith that others are here for you and hear your words, feel and share your humanity. I love the idea of ‘testifying’ and ‘witnessing’ as a form of healing—sometimes we share the weight of our souls, while other times we are a listening presence—what grace to know we are all here for each other! 🙏🏼💕
Also having severe clinical depression, plus a myriad of other mental and physical problems, I’m learning to count the little wins. Today’s wins so far are getting up, feeding cat, taking morning medicine.
When my son had a bout of deep depression I could hardly get him out of his room which was also dark. He couldn’t shower so we did “ bird baths” in the sink. Washing his hair when I could because even the water freaked him out. I call it the year of seclusion because I literally could not go anywhere, yes he stood outside the bathroom door with me talking the whole time I was taking a shower. One day I asked him if he could tell me what color he was , he said indigo . So we played a little game to lighten the color a bit , naming things that while purple were lighter than indigo. The doc wanted to do electroshock therapy my son said no, but God in his infinite wisdom gave him a shock. It was a seizure full blown tonic clonic seizure. Thankfully God had also prepared me a retired neurosurgery nurse so off to the ER. And from that point on we saw tiny achievements . Today he is living in a tiny home village for those with serious mental illnesses . He still has schizoaffective, he still has voices in his head which on some days plague him. But he has made many small, small steps and I am thankful.
-Rising before the sun to make my kiddo's lunch and send him off to school
- Drinking my coffee and reading this.
-I'm noticing I'm using the desire to write a little daily comment as a tiny springboard (picture me in an old-timey bathing costume and cap, approaching a very high diving board), to write some difficult content for a retreat booklet that I've been avoiding. I'm getting a bit braver with every letter I type...
Writing grabs a string and pulls it out of the twisted mess of thought. It may be just a short string, not the knotted mass, not the doubled up and conflicting tangle. But it makes the eventual release a little bit more imaginable.
After a year in the dark, being the dark, I feel like I'm out of it. Afraid of saying it because it may jinx it. Today I see the mess in my house and I'm not discourage by it, I can do it, one task after the other. Last week I brought a big bag of stuff I don't want or need anymore to the goodwill, felt so good!!!
I can't begin to thank you. Cancer has slowed me. Cancer has terrified me. Cancer has led me to places I knew not - and all in all - like so many - I find tiny ways to be alive ... to continue to reach out ... helping as well as asking for help which does not come naturally. Yet it's an opportunity to let others be the givers. From The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse: "What's the bravest thing you've ever said? asked the boy. "Help," said the horse. "When have you been at your strongest? asked the boy. "When I have dared to show my weakness." "Asking for help isn't giving up," said the horse. "It's refusing to give up."
Each evening I pray what we Catholics call the Examen or as I think of it as a glance back at what I did or could do better. Yet, I wonder now if it wouldn’t be wise to focus on achievements no matter how small. In other words, shine a light on the small steps I take towards God not away.
Catherine, I agree. I’m 73 years old & often I feel guilty that I can get so down & dark feeling. It’s hard but I have finally learned to look for my small victories & thankfulness for small joys like my cat laying in my lap right now. 😊And to give myself (& others) a little grace!
Amen! I did have to chuckle about the cat as I would be sneezing instead of joyful😉. Of course, joy comes to each of us “special delivery” designed just for us. Yet another reason to pay more attention to what brings joy to ourselves as well as those we know & love.
Getting out of bed today felt like a win. After two nights of minimal sleep I was finally sleeping well when the alarm went off. I had to drag myself back to consciousness when what I wanted was to roll over for another 8 hours.
Thank you again Kate for sharing such helpful and timely encouragements. I think of my depression as living inside a clear bubble. Some days it is a big bubble, with room to move and find light. Other times it clings like plastic wrap, threatening to suffocate all joy. Thinking of those little accomplishments does help move the bubble back out. I pray you all find a good accomplishment and moments of joy today! For you Andrew, may there be sweet moments where the pain fades for you.
I put both the coffee and the water in the coffee pot and I remembered to turn it on.
Honestly, that is a triumphant morning.
Thanks! ( I am taking a bow.)
Yes! More than once I’ve added the coffee and filter, but forgotten the filter basket. 🤷♀️
Go, Sister!
So important, Kim!! ☕️😂
Sharing the cancer journey with you through, appropriately, this Lenten season has been a privilege, a terrible honour.
Yesterday I sat down for a few minutes to take drink, and when I made to rise to continue work upon the aeroplane (it took three tries) I could see that walking across half of the room would take everything I had, and it did. I was battered on the storm-rocks of pain, but each step (once such a thoughtless act!) was sweetly redolent of salvation,
a self-deliverance from the prison of despair.
It was almost fun, and to paraphrase Keith Richards, "when you're going to kick cancer in the teeth, you may as well use both feet."
Almost fun?
It WAS fun.
***
It has been bad, today was worse,
each moment quailed the one before.
Cancer's coin has no obverse,
no silver lining, that's for sure
but for the one that I put there,
limning the hot black cloud of pain
with knowing that I still do care,
that I am here and I remain.
I stood, and standing I did see
that the step which must come next
would be far past agony,
but it would leave hell sore perplexed
that I could, weeping, yet pass through
the very worst that it could do.
Andrew,
How with so much pain can you find the energy to give so much to those who read your writings each day? I surely see God‘s hand in all of this. Do you? Do you feel his presence as you walk this valley? Your wisdom, your courage, your dogged determination,your compassion and caring for others in this sweet community, are all signs,I believe, of your sweet communion with your holy and loving companion who never leaves you– – your God.
I read your responses every day Andrew! You are a gift! You have an incredible heart!
Prayers sent up❣️
I agree , Sue, with this beautiful response to Andrew’s writing.
Honored, Andrew, that you have shared this weighty journey with us—I hope that knowing you’ve got caring witnesses will be of some comfort. God’s blessings!
Virginia, thank you...and this community sure is a comfort.
You say you still care to be here. I care that you are here. Your words hold much that blesses me in the darkness. My only child died by suicide at 39. Finished, done. Life,just being here, is hope in each moment. I celebrate you made it across the room.
Andrew-thank you, yet again, for writing and sharing your soul with us. And praying for small moments of grief and transcendence.
-a self deliverance from the prison of despair
Ahhh. Carry on.
Carrying on, Donna.
Andrew, there are not sufficient words to express my admiration and deep gratitude to you. I’m humbled by your generosity in sharing this time with us. You have become an inspiration to me. I can only hope to meet the end of my days with a fraction of the dignity, grace, courage and humor that you possess. Sending love to you, my brother.
Thank you for such raw vulnerability and for truly helping shape a new perspective on life for me this Lent. I am so grateful for your sharing and for this community that seeks to support and uplift you and everyone in it. Your words are a special gift.
“that the step which must come next would be far past agony” i cannot even begin to imagine such pain and passing through and yet i see it in the deep sorrow and loss of a child and grandchildren and welcome the hope of passing through
Thank you Andrew, for trusting us with your story. I’m not a writer, please know that I’m here with you and hoping this group helps you to feel tethered and comforted.
Andrew, I referenced you in my post...I'm in awe of you, truly.
we're all in the andrew fan club now - and we look forward to reading your poetry. Thank you for trusting us with your pain and your glorious writing.
Thank you, Andrew, for continuing to share, for continuing to have faith that others are here for you and hear your words, feel and share your humanity. I love the idea of ‘testifying’ and ‘witnessing’ as a form of healing—sometimes we share the weight of our souls, while other times we are a listening presence—what grace to know we are all here for each other! 🙏🏼💕
Also having severe clinical depression, plus a myriad of other mental and physical problems, I’m learning to count the little wins. Today’s wins so far are getting up, feeding cat, taking morning medicine.
Those are not little things at all! I’m so glad you’re counting them.
When my son had a bout of deep depression I could hardly get him out of his room which was also dark. He couldn’t shower so we did “ bird baths” in the sink. Washing his hair when I could because even the water freaked him out. I call it the year of seclusion because I literally could not go anywhere, yes he stood outside the bathroom door with me talking the whole time I was taking a shower. One day I asked him if he could tell me what color he was , he said indigo . So we played a little game to lighten the color a bit , naming things that while purple were lighter than indigo. The doc wanted to do electroshock therapy my son said no, but God in his infinite wisdom gave him a shock. It was a seizure full blown tonic clonic seizure. Thankfully God had also prepared me a retired neurosurgery nurse so off to the ER. And from that point on we saw tiny achievements . Today he is living in a tiny home village for those with serious mental illnesses . He still has schizoaffective, he still has voices in his head which on some days plague him. But he has made many small, small steps and I am thankful.
I hear so much bravery & faith in you & your son🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼
Thank you Sustained by lots of prayer and a strong church family
Such a hard road; such a loving mother. 🙏
-Rising before the sun to make my kiddo's lunch and send him off to school
- Drinking my coffee and reading this.
-I'm noticing I'm using the desire to write a little daily comment as a tiny springboard (picture me in an old-timey bathing costume and cap, approaching a very high diving board), to write some difficult content for a retreat booklet that I've been avoiding. I'm getting a bit braver with every letter I type...
That brave little springboard image is perfection. I’m cheering you on!
Those notes of tiny achievements . . .
Writing grabs a string and pulls it out of the twisted mess of thought. It may be just a short string, not the knotted mass, not the doubled up and conflicting tangle. But it makes the eventual release a little bit more imaginable.
For me, writing is a KITTEN grabbing a string, and then, chaos ensues.
; )
Love that image!
After a year in the dark, being the dark, I feel like I'm out of it. Afraid of saying it because it may jinx it. Today I see the mess in my house and I'm not discourage by it, I can do it, one task after the other. Last week I brought a big bag of stuff I don't want or need anymore to the goodwill, felt so good!!!
Oh, I’m so glad. One task after another is its own kind of miracle.
Kate thank you for always keeping it real, practical and hopeful in tangible ways.
I prayed.
I can't begin to thank you. Cancer has slowed me. Cancer has terrified me. Cancer has led me to places I knew not - and all in all - like so many - I find tiny ways to be alive ... to continue to reach out ... helping as well as asking for help which does not come naturally. Yet it's an opportunity to let others be the givers. From The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse: "What's the bravest thing you've ever said? asked the boy. "Help," said the horse. "When have you been at your strongest? asked the boy. "When I have dared to show my weakness." "Asking for help isn't giving up," said the horse. "It's refusing to give up."
Asking for help is SO fierce and courageous.
-I got out of bed.
-I researched ways to make art using the tiny round tags with a metal edge.
-I spent time here.
-It is 6:53 am
And I realized that much of this is a continual negotiation with despair.
The tether is holding.
Each evening I pray what we Catholics call the Examen or as I think of it as a glance back at what I did or could do better. Yet, I wonder now if it wouldn’t be wise to focus on achievements no matter how small. In other words, shine a light on the small steps I take towards God not away.
Catherine, I agree. I’m 73 years old & often I feel guilty that I can get so down & dark feeling. It’s hard but I have finally learned to look for my small victories & thankfulness for small joys like my cat laying in my lap right now. 😊And to give myself (& others) a little grace!
Amen! I did have to chuckle about the cat as I would be sneezing instead of joyful😉. Of course, joy comes to each of us “special delivery” designed just for us. Yet another reason to pay more attention to what brings joy to ourselves as well as those we know & love.
Yes, sometimes making an, "I did it" list is more motivating and helpful with the overwhelm of life than that "to do" list.
I sometimes add a task I've already done to my to-do list just so I can check it off.
Me too! It makes me feel more productive. ❤️
I read somewhere that instead of making to do lists, we could make to be lists. Be kind. Be a helper. Etc. I rather liked that new perspective.
Getting out of bed today felt like a win. After two nights of minimal sleep I was finally sleeping well when the alarm went off. I had to drag myself back to consciousness when what I wanted was to roll over for another 8 hours.
After that kind of night, getting up is no small thing.
Getting out of bed with my alarm, giving my cat his medicine with his food.
Thank you again Kate for sharing such helpful and timely encouragements. I think of my depression as living inside a clear bubble. Some days it is a big bubble, with room to move and find light. Other times it clings like plastic wrap, threatening to suffocate all joy. Thinking of those little accomplishments does help move the bubble back out. I pray you all find a good accomplishment and moments of joy today! For you Andrew, may there be sweet moments where the pain fades for you.
This is such a helpful description for what I call “feeling blue.” Not really depressed, but not really whole. It expands and clings.