As I reviewed the website, the entire convention intrigued me and for whatever reason, I knew I had to be a part of it. I don't know why. I'm not big on crowds and conventions and such. I'm a loner. But, that something inside of me (I am pretty sure it was God) compelled me to dig a little deeper.
Funds are tight and I know there's no way I would have even considered it had it not been in town. Since it was in town, I thought I should at least entertain the idea of going, but I was still concerned about spending the money.
The website mentioned offering scholarships. I emailed and inquired what I would have to do to apply. All I would have to do was send an email detailing why I wanted to go and what I hoped to get out of the convention. Easy enough. I tell my story all the time. But, why did I want to go to the conference? I wasn't exactly sure, but after telling my story, I said I hoped to bond with other survivors and learn from them. Who knew my subconscious had such psychic ability? (Just kidding. I think that, too, was God giving me the words.)
The very next day, I heard back from them and found out I had gotten that scholarship! I was excited and could not wait for the day to arrive.
The day arrived. I took time off work to be able to go. I started getting nervous and wondering what I got myself into. A big part of me wanted to talk myself out of going. After all, I have been working really hard lately. I mean, my life has been nothing but work, work, work. Long hours. Work coming home with me. Work consuming my every waking moment. I deserved and probably needed to simply take these days off, sleep late, and relax. That was my reasoning. The real reason, I was simply scared. I didn't know what to expect. I didn't know anyone going. I'm a little introvert. What did I get myself into?
Of course, I was not about to let fear get the best of me. I have spent my entire life giving in to fear. No more. After all, I was afraid about the RAD conference in San Antonio last month. I went anyway because it was work related and work paid for the conference. Work did not pay for this conference. I did not pay for this conference. But, I had fun at the RAD conference. I figured I just may end up enjoying myself at this conference. Sleep be damned!!!
The events kicked off last night with the Red Carpet Live! Pajama Party! hosted by Nan Kelley, a host on GAC. If I was going to go, I was going to do it right. I usually sleep in shorts and a t-shirt. For this event, I wore my puppy dog PJ bottoms with a t-shirt. It was too hot for the matching top.
The vibe in the room was unlike anything I have known before. It was like being amongst family. We were all bonded by a common experience, creating an immediate sisterhood. I have never been in a sorority, but I imagine the connection was similar. It was like we had all known each other for years. Everyone started talking to everyone else and sharing stories and secrets. Nothing was taboo.
I met one woman from Arizona. We were both alone at the convention. We walked down the red carpet together. Nan Kelley stopped and interviewed us all as we walked the carpet. Then, we stopped and had our picture taken with some cute, tiny little woman. I had no idea who she was until the opening ceremonies. They treated us like celebrities. It was a little bizarre, but quite fun.
During the opening ceremonies, we were introduced to the Honorary Chair, Olympian Shannon Miller. That was the woman they had us take a picture with.
The night concluded with a performance by the Nash Trash sisters, writers in the round, and a short show by the Little River Band. I had no idea who they were. I intended to leave early, but I sent my ex a text and ask if he had ever heard of them and if so, if they were any good. He said they were awesome and that I would recognize their songs.
His response surprised me. I thought this was a new country band. Brad is quite a musician himself and he does not easily or readily hand out musical compliments. Plus, I have not listened to country music in more than three years now. How would I recognize any of their songs?
I quickly realized my mistake once they came out and sang the first song. Not a new country band, but an old rock band! They were amazing!
To make the night even better, they had a desert bar and a wait staff coming by our seats to pick up after us. It was obvious women organized this event. We were being pampered all night. It was awesome! It sure is nice being taken care of every once in a while!!!
Day two started off a little slow only because I was tired. It is hard going right to sleep after a good night like that. But, I was soon to learn that God had it all planned. I had been lost in wonder. I had been praying for answers. I have been eager, impatient, baffled, angry, manic, and grateful. God gave me peace, but He had not given me answers...yet.
I did not even know what questions to ask until He gave me the answers. There has been only one thing on my mind that I have been able to clearly identify, explain, and pray about.
"God, I would love to be able to write for a living, move to Texas and make my living as a writer. If You want me to be a writer, give me not only the desire to be a writer, but that burning need to write, same as You have done to get me to workout, just that deep inner need. If You don't want me to write anymore, take away this desire and align my will with Your will."
My spoken prayer: Am I supposed to write?
My unspoken prayers: Am I normal? Why am I here? What purpose is there? Why me? I have been trying for so long to make sense out of everything. It all gets muddled in my mind and gets lost in translation.
Issue one I have been trying to wrap my head around. My personality has changed. Some things I like, some things I don't. I used to have a very peaceful spirit. I could spend hours reading. I could make myself sit down and start writing and I could write for hours. I could simply sit in silence. These days, my brain will not slow down long enough for me to be able to enjoy my former favorite pastimes. I miss them. I can no longer watch television for long without my mind wandering. I cannot read my Bible or spend much time in prayer. A few minutes here and there. That's the best I have right now. Will my brain ever slow down enough? Will I ever be able to enjoy reading and writing again? Is that part of my life over?
I am more egotistical than ever. The youth pastor at our church gave a great sermon to the youth this past Wednesday. He asked the kids to write on a piece of paper something people would say about them that would block the light, a not so good quality. The message may have been geared for them, but it spoke to me as well. I did not have to write anything down, but my piece of darkness was easy for me to think about. What would people say about me? These days they would probably say I'm egotistical. Some people I work with probably wish I would just keep my mouth shut sometimes.
Now, the ego has its good qualities and bad. The good: I used to le t things get to me, but kept my mouth shut. I did not feel confident enough to say anything or didn't think anyone cared enough to listen to me. I had a "why bother" attitude and preferred keeping the peace over speaking up for what's right. Now, if I don't agree with something, I speak my mind. I will not be silent. If there is something I want to do, I do it. People don't like what I have to say, too bad for them. I get my way. I may have to work a little harder, but I will get my way. (most of the time)
The bad: I have noticed that I am getting really bad at projecting my values onto others and making them feel bad for not thinking my way. I'm not talking just religion, I mean everything. I don't think I should eat junk food today, no one should. I want to go to Dairy Queen today, its okay for anyone else to eat ice cream today. I think I need to buckle down and take my workout more serious, everyone else around me should, too. I am too busy working on a project, you better not decide to waste my time with idle chatter. I will get angry.
I didn't realize I was doing that until Wednesday's sermon. I will work on this.
What about the other part of that personality change, the outspoken go getter. (Man, I remind myself of my sister! She has always been like that!)
During her talk today, Shannon Miller shared her experience and how it has changed her. She said she used to hate interviews and only gave yes or no answers. Now, she is able to get up in front of this crowd and have a conversation.
She talked about all the times she messed up when she was a professional athlete and how many times she fell. It was embarrassing. She looks back now and realizes that was nothing. In life, like in gymnastics, when you fall, you get back up again.
She said she, like us, have overcome cancer. We fought and we conquered. She takes nothing for granted now and says if we can overcome cancer, we can overcome anything. Survivors have this "I can do anything" attitude. Cancer does change us.
Through her speech, by watching the reactions her speech had on other participants, and in conversations I had with others, I realize I am still in the healing process. My brain will level out. Some of these "new personality" issues will calm. Some will be a new part of who I am. I am eight months old in my new life. Like an infant, I cannot learn to walk in a day. It will take time getting used to my new legs!
Issue two: I have talked about survivor's guilt in past blogs. I am no longer stuck in that depression, but the guilt still lingers. I think about it every day. Why am I alive and others died?
During that same panel discussion, Geralyn Lucas, author of Why I Wore Lipstick (to My Mastectomy) which became a Lifetime movie, made a comment about survivor's guilt.
Later in the day, she was co-hosting a breakout session. I got up to leave when I realized I was in the wrong room. This was not what I expected and I wanted to go to one about psycho-social effects of cancer. I thought this session would answer my questions about why my brain is not acting like my old normal self. That session ended up being more about the caregiver than the patient.
The next session was cancelled. As I walked back toward the main area, I noticed she was still in the other room talking to folks. I went in to the room to apologize to the panelists. I explained why I left and what I hoped to get from the other session. I told the man that I wanted to see if what I was going through was normal. Without me having to say what "it" was, he said "it" most likely was normal.
I told Geralyn that I wish I had stayed in their group and asked if I could ask her a question. I asked about the comment she made on stage and asked if she had a problem with survivor's guilt. The two of us, the other presenter, and other participants got into a big conversation about this topic. Apparently, it is a very real and very serious issue, one that never goes away.
She told me about a cousin who recently passed away. Geralyn is 18 years removed from cancer and still struggles with survivor's guilt. She related it to a soldier coming home while others in his platoon died. We, like them, form a brother and sister -hood. Like a soldier who is trained to never leave another behind, we feel at a loss when we lose someone we think we should have been able to protect somehow.
She almost cried as she related her story. The other women nodded their agreement and shared how they, too, struggle with the same issues. Geralyn is 18 years removed from cancer and still struggles. The guilt may never go away, but the best we can do is to live for them. It's funny. To hear that I may struggle with survivor's guilt at some level for a long time to come comforted me. I can deal with it as long as I know it's normal. As long as I know how to navigate through.
We then talked about how we hate the term "cancer free." To us, we will never be cancer free. The possibility is always there, lurking just over your shoulder. We are called survivors instead.
After she shared her story about that, I told her how I am uncomfortable with "We Won" on the back of my shirt. Felt like it was bad mojo. When she found out I was only eight months removed from cancer, she told me I was just a baby. She told me I have won. I was a survivor for only eight months yet I was there at that convention. I was taking steps already. I was doing something.
I have heard all this before. I have told myself all of this. But, somehow, it is different hearing these affirmations from people who are just like me. They get it. My story is their story. Their story is my story. We are one. We are bonded like no one else. There is an instant connection no one can break.
Am I normal? Absolutely. If I could go back and change one thing about my cancer journey, I would have made time to seek out and attend support groups. How much less time I would have spent grieving over things had I made this connection with others long ago.
Issue three and four: Next thing on the agenda was a presentation by Scott Hamilton about Faith, Family, and Giving Back. I was interested in what he had to say simply because he was the only one of the celebrity guests who I knew beforehand.
The healing continued with his talk. Who knew the man was so funny? I suppose a lot of people already knew. A lot of people already knew who Tabitha Coffy and Peter Coppola were. They knew who the other celebrity guests I have already mentioned were. I'm just not cool. I admit it!!!
Anyway, he had me and everyone else on the edge of our seats. I held on to his every word. He had me laughing and crying. The healing, the answers to prayer, continued.
He told his story. There is no way I could ever do it justice. If you ever have to opportunity to hear him speak either in person or via the internet, check it out. The theme for today was a Day of Inspiration and he delivered.
He endured hardships his entire life. Adopted as a baby. A medical issue that doctors could not diagnose and would not diagnose until well into his adulthood. Testicular cancer. Brain tumor. Another brain tumor. Chemo, radiation, surgeries, surgeries, and more and more surgeries.
He endured it all, and with grace. He laughed through much and would only allow uplifting people around him. Those people, in turn, could lift him up on those really difficult days. Our caretakers have a tremendous role. They can bring us out of our depression or encourage us deeper into it. He chose laughter. He chose to see the positive in everything, even when he was scared.
He was not afraid to cry. We cried with him. His story is our story. We cried for ourselves. I cried for myself. I cried in gratitude. I cried in healing.
He, like Shannon Miller, spoke of his many mistakes and falls while skating. That was his theme for us. "What do we do when we fall? We get back up again."
He used two fingers in demonstration. The pointer finger pointing higher than the middle finger. He talked about the crossroads in his life and the choices he could make. He could choose the high road or the low road. He chose the high road.
I need God the most, but prayer has been difficult. I'm not sure who talked about chemo brain and the problems with prayer. If I had to guess, several people discussed this. It gave me peace of mind, though, knowing that other survivors have the same problem. We are so consumed with our own issues. Our body is not functioning like we think it should. It is difficult to pray like we once did. I am getting better by simply making a conscious effort, even if my brain will only focus for a few minutes at a time. It was Scott Hamilton who reminded me to talk to God like I would talk to my dad, from the heart. He wants to know all about us just like my earthly father.
When asked if he feels sorry for himself for all the trials he has had to face in his lifetime, he asks why? God used those trials to make him what he is. It was because of an undiagnosed condition as a child that led him to skate. He found solace in skating. He found normalcy in skating. He was just like everyone else when he skated. He soon became better than the others.
His mother died of cancer. He chose the high road and worked harder to make her proud. He became the success he was because of her.
Because of testicular cancer, he met his wife.
The list of trial to triumph go on and on in Scott Hamilton's life.
That was his message for us. That was God's message for me. You fall down, you get back up again. Embrace this because this is what God is using to get us to where we are going. We are survivors. We are mentors. We are heroes.
I felt such a release after his speech. What's wrong with me that I can't pray? My prayer life isn't like it once was. There's nothing wrong with me. My body is still recovering. When I do pray, remember to pray from the heart.
Why me? Well, that I still don't know, but for once, I'm proud of my status as a survivor. I have been getting better being content with where I am. It certainly isn't logical to see myself as a hero, but I can certainly be a mentor. One thing is certain, there is something different about me. There is something that sets me apart from the "civilians" as Geralyn called people who have not been through cancer (continuing with the military theme of our survivor's guilt conversation and my Renee's Brigade t-shirt).There is something that makes all of us different and we unite in our differences.
I'm ready for whatever is coming. I embrace my survivor status.
Issue five: I did not expect an answer of any sort about writing at this conference and I certainly did not expect the answer I got. Not quite the answer I hoped for, but it was certainly an answer. While listening to Scott Hamilton's talk, I was itching to get home to write about it in my blog. I wanted to share my experiences so far. I thought about waiting until the entire convention concluded, but I could not wait that long. I had to write now. I knew I would not be able to sleep until I wrote.
I knew I would not be able to write immediately after getting home, but I knew I had to get these thoughts out of me. I itched to write bad!
Now, when I prayed about writing, I meant a new story idea which would eventually turn into a book. I meant the story I started so eagerly a month or two ago, but which now seems forced. God gave me that burning desire to write, but not the story I intended.
Does this mean He wants me to be a writer for a living? I have no idea. I don't think that has anything to do with today and this particular answer to prayer. I think He was simply trying to tell me that career or not, writing is simply a part of who I am. It will always be a part of me. That's how I express myself.
I still want more detail, but all in due time. As Scott Hamilton said, every question will be answered eventually.
I have been focused on writing now for almost three hours, stopping only long enough to put the clothes in the dryer then fold them when they were dry. There's an answer to issue one. My brain can and will continue to slow down and focus. Maybe one day, I will finish the book Les Miserables. The old me could have read this big book on one or two weeks. The new me is not even half way there and it's been months. Maybe one day, I'll finish the new book I started. The old me found time to write. The new me can only write when I get fired up like I did tonight.
Well, my fingers have feverishly rushed to type all the thoughts in my mind. It is now after 10pm and tomorrow is another long, fun-filled day, starting bright and early with a 5K walk/run. No editing or spell check tonight. My brain is finished, tired, and ready for rest.
Goodnight!
Camera phone does not take very good pictures!
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