Who Am I Now

“When you come to the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on.” — Franklin D. Roosevelt

I would be lying if I said that I didn’t wake up from nightmares reliving everything from before. Reliving cancer and how it nearly killed me. How it tried to kill me and how it did. There are nights when I can’t sleep because my head is raging with thoughts when I have doctor appointments for check up’s that bring me to my knees. I don’t sleep the nights leading up to it. I can never find the peace in myself until I am told I am clear that I can breathe for another 6 months.

I tell myself everyday that you were one of the lucky ones, and I know I was, I was brought back to life. A new body and a new state of mind, but in the process of it all, I had to die within myself to be able to live in this new body I have now. When I look in the mirror I see someone who is beautiful, who is full of confidence, but I also see a person who has seen what lies behind the veil. It’s a realization that who I was, what I was then, he died each time chemicals were pumped into his body. He died when he faced the darkness on his own. It was a battle that I had to fight by myself, with spectators watching from the sideline cheering me on.

I was tossed into an arena and asked to face a Demon of Sickness. Be brave they would say from the sidelines and tell me to pick up my sword, swing and dodge. I was in a labyrinth made of stone and splattered with those who come before me. I felt its stagnant breath on my neck. Its claws were digging into my back. A stinging pain with pulsating heat from talons ripping skin. Still I fought and I ran. With luck, and grace, mixed with a lot of hope, I was able to slay the nightmare but not before it took a part of me with it.

I watched the innocence of who I was ripped from me by jealous and hateful claws. I watched me die. The boy I was, he was crying while others watched and looked. I bent down to him and held his hand as he gasped for air that wasn’t coming. In my hands I watched myself die.

I did pull myself away from the pit only to realize that I was never going to be the same. I tried to find ways that brought me back to who I was, but I just couldn’t feel it like I did before. I tried going back home, maybe that would spark something new, but I felt even more like an outcast. Not because I wasn’t wanted or celebrated, but because I faced something so dark and horrible that it shook me to my very soul. It aged me. It was a life that was mine but is no longer belonged to me. Being there it felt like I was walking in shoes that weren’t mine. They belonged to the boy who wore them before me. It was big shoes to fill.

Even now, here where I am, I still try to figure out who I am and what I am even doing. Am I living a life that I wanted once before and just trying to make it fit? This must be what a plastic bag feels like. Just blowing one direction and then going the other just trying to find a place to land.

I’m different. I’ve changed. I’ve grown. I saw what death looked like and witnessed the deepness of my own depression. I recall everyday just trying to pull through and make the best of it and put on a smile so that others wouldn’t worry about me and how I would break apart.

When I see myself now in this new body, I know that I am much stronger and there is a power running through my veins. It scares me. I sometimes ask myself is this really me?

I’m told that I have changed that I have become angrier and darker, but maybe this was always who I was, or maybe it is the fighting spirit awakened in me that no longer takes “no” for an answer. I am still trying to figure this out.

I was told that those of us who survive, we don’t really start processing what we faced until we are out of it. During the time we are in survival and can’t think about anything else. It’s all coming back to me now. Each day I give thanks for the life I have and ask for the purpose of it and why me.

I wish I knew who I was, I ask myself everyday “WHO AM I NOW?” I still don’t have the answer to it. One day it will be revealed to me. All I know to do now is fight for my happiness and follow my heart in however that looks.

I’m still healing. I’m still breathing. I’m still fighting. I’m not a victim.

To all those that have faced cancer and lived through it, just know that you are not alone in this. I know what it means to die to yourself and be revived, only to not know who the hell you are now…it’s okay. It takes time to learn this version of you. Love yourself while you do and be thankful for the days given.