What we’re trying to control is much better off without us, and what we’re trying to fix can’t be fixed by us anyway.
The words leapt off the page like a 2 x 4 to the noggin and confirmed what the little voice in the back of my head had been attempted to shout at me for the past few days. It had done cartwheels, loop-de-loops and tried its darndest to get my attention; but it wasn’t until that moment, while attempting to relax on my balcony with the usual cup of tea and reading a book by Marinane Williamson that I had to accept the “let it go and roll with it” message that had been trying so desperately to be heard:
The more important it is to us, the more important it is to surrender.
We don’t have to be struggling all the time.
Surrender means, by definition, giving up attachment to results.
The paint balls of truth were being shot at an unforgiving speed and I covered my head looking for mercy exclaiming, “I get it I get it.” Even this stubborn redhead couldn’t miss the truth staring right back at her… I need to breathe, let it go, and like Steve Winwood sings, just roll with it baby.
I had only been back to work for three days and feeling hog tied because the recommended gradual return had me only scheduled for 1/3 days. To the average person, this sounds reasonable, and wise, but to this all or nothing full speed ahead girl, it felt like a punishment and had popped my internal bouncy castle.
The message of surrender that I had been bucking so hard first made an appearance when without thinking, I climbed the stairs to the second floor at work only to have to stop half way laughing and completely out of breath because my heart was making my head spin and it felt like I had just climbed half way up Everest. Huffing and puffing while holding onto the railing I saw that I was trying to be my pre-cancer self in my post-cancer world. Returning to work had been like entering another dimension, and it had sucked me through hyper-space landing me right back into my old habits of rushing, trying to force things to happen, and feeling frustrated for frustrations sake.
But standing there on the landing between floors I realized that not only was there a fresh coat of paint on the walls, new computer programs for me to learn, and new faces adorning the hallways, I was different as well. I’m proud of how I have dealt with my cancer journey, taking things as they happened, not making assumptions, accepting help, rolling with the crazy and just munching on the elephant bite I was on at the time. Worrying about what could happen wasn’t an option, manipulating a situation because I think I knew best didn’t cross my mind, and the more I just focused on being happy through it all, the more I realized that things always happen exactly as they need to.
It may sound funny, but surrendering to the cancer journey was easy, after all, I had never done it before, and was truly at the mercy of those who knew what they were doing. Transitioning back into a familiar life while learning a new body, new reactions, new priorities, and a new job it becomes work to ignore that sinister little voice judging me and continually reminding me, “well that’s not how you used to do it.” If ever there was a time to be kind to myself and roll with it, it is now.
Me being me, even with the realization I had stranded between the sets of stairs, it took a number of days, a frustrated inner voice and Marianne Williamson’s book to finally have me waving the white flag, admitting that maybe, just maybe I didn’t know what was best, and needed to take it all as it comes.
So, while I sat with my cooling cup of tea, finally hearing and accepting the message, with gratitude I said good-bye to the person I was, and welcomed the adventure of getting to know who I am now.
And who I am now not only needs to walk slower, but she needs an elevator!