Sunday, November 30, 2008

The Universe is Yelling

Lately, the universe seems to be yelling at me. As you know, I have been struggling off and on with depression. In my head and heart I know that this is justified with all that has gone on from my cancer diagnosis, my son's autism and my mother's death. Any one of those is enough to put a sane person over the edge. I have consciously been trying to put myself in a better place.
My doc suggested that I use affirmations. I made a list and everyday I have been repeating them to myself. Positive sentences like "I will live and believe that I am cured." I started out with putting Today in front of each sentence. That helped because I was in the place that I could only control this moment and this day. Now I am dropping the word today and even altering the affirmations to reflect more current concerns. I consider that progress.
It hasn't directly addressed my concern over the cancer. I still have flashes in my mind that "this could be my last" kind of thing. And I probably always will. But this weekend, there seems to be a multitude of messages trying to get through to me. Or perhaps I am finally open to hearing them.
I was watching a sci fi web series while cleaning closets. A chore that I despise. The main character described himself as death. He said "I am death. I will choose my own death in my time in my way." I just sat there stupefied. Those words are so morbid yet so hopeful at the same time. I have been handed a death sentence but the choice to live is mine. I can choose when to pursue treatment or stop treatment. There will always be a clinical trial or alternative medicine. It is up to me to decide. This was a real shift for me or perhaps a return to hopefulness. I feel as if I have control back in my life.
On the way to pick up my daughter's friend for a sleepover I heard a song that has played constantly on the radio for many years. Several of the phrases again seemed to strike a cord.

It's not having what you want
It's wanting what you've got
I'm gonna soak up the sun
Gonna tell everyone to lighten up
I'm gonna soak up the sun
While it's still free
I'm gonna soak up the sun
Before it goes out on me
Don't have no master suite
I'm still the king of me
I going to tell 'em that
I've got no one to blame
For every time I feel
Cheryl Crow's Soak Up the Sun seems like a summer song to be played on the beach. Not a song that my help a depressed person. There were many other signs this weekend but those two were flashing neon.
Thanks universe.

3 comments:

Cramerworld said...

I'm facing my CAT scan this week and my appointment at U of M next week so I'm thinking you must also be close to exam time. I'm praying that the joys of Christmas will be louder than any fears or depression you might be facing. You are such an encouragement to so many people.
Praying for you, Karin

Cramerworld said...

I have my CAT Scan this week and an appointment at UofM next week so I'm guessing that you are close to exam time also. I hope the joys and sounds of Christmas are louder that any fears or depression that comes your way. Praying for you, Karin

Nicole said...

Hi! I love Cheryl Crow! She and I both have a son named Wyatt. By the way, my neighbor (the cancer survivor) had her baby on 11/21 and named him Patrick.

Anyway, here's some more select lyrics to another Cheryl song:

Jump in, let's go/
Lay back, enjoy the show/
Everybody gets high, everybody gets low/
There are days when anything goes/

Every day is a winding road/
I get a little bit closer/
Every day is a faded sign/
I get a little bit closer
to feeling fine

None of us can be permanently healed, but we can enjoy feeling fine while we can, make hay while the sun shines and all that. Sometimes I think about how I take for granted all the minutes, hours, days, weeks, years that I have felt so fine that I am not even aware of my body. I mean, no thoughts of hangnails or throbbing teeth or smashed little toes, just so many days where I have felt great--like, for instance, spending three hours reading a book before I come back into myself and realize that my neck is starting to hurt or my eyes need a rest and I have to take a break from floating through 19th century England like a shadowy figure from a Chagall painting.

I also have variations of "this could be my last" kind of thing thoughts. Sometimes I feel a flash of panic about deleting emails from my husband. I think, "What if something happened to him and I couldn't read the last three years of daily mundane emails he sent to me?" I know, it's weird.