Cancer can’t be all bad. It can’t. It’s terrible. A terrible disease, cancer is, despised and cursed, feared, insidious. For all the bad that cancer brings, all the sadness, death, pain and tears, there must be something good.Lowering Inhibitions
I’ve always had my guard up, like life’s a fight. It’s likely been warranted and not. Life is a fight, but it’s often not. I can’t say for sure what I’ve gained from this guard, but now that it’s down I see what I’ve lost. Cancer has let me be me.
I’ve always worn a shy mask to shield me from unknowns. But underneath I’ve lost so much by keeping words, thoughts, and emotions to myself when I could have been sharing them with the person on the other side of the mask. I didn’t, scared of injury, and I believe much was lost, by me, others, and us. Cancer has lowered my mask.
I can’t be hurt and I’m not afraid, thanks to cancer. I wish to be open and share. I wish to connect more often and deeply, to care, to listen, and love. Cancer has done this for me.
My words can no longer hurt me and I’m somewhat sad to think that they ever could. It means a lot to me, I say–to a friend who spends hours with me while I receive poison via drip. To distant acquaintances who meet me much more than half way. To colleagues who let me know that they are thinking of me. To strangers who smile and cashiers who wish me a nice day. It means a lot to me.
To say it means a lot to me no longer makes me feel vulnerable. Neither does paying compliments, speaking my mind, or asking more questions. I am no longer worried of the response, thanks to cancer.
Cancer has taught me death and appreciation. I have so much to live for and lose, and so much to fight for. But I don’t need to fight through defenses, and especially not with my words. No more inhibitions–I will be open with my mask and guard down, thanks to cancer.