The Truth for Me
I’m not at all sure that I believe in Angels. Or in magical force fields. Or in healing white light. But I believe in something bigger than me. Bigger than us. Extremely big. And benevolent.
Which is good. Because I really, really need some help right now.
Are you there?
Me: My heart is breaking. Are you there?
Angels: Of course we are here, beloved. Talk to us.
Me: Mom’s ovarian cancer is not only sucky, it is sneaky and it moves. Now it is in her brain. And this fancy-schmancy “NEUROSURGEON” with shitty bedside manners is planning to, ummm, cut it out, like, tomorrow.
I’m scared. And sad.
Angels: We know. We see you try to be so brave, and make it ok and less awful for everyone, but we can also see that you are really scared. And really sad. It’s good that you are able to acknowledge how scared and how sad you are. Tell us more.
Me: I am scared for her. I don’t want her to be scared. I don’t want her to be in pain. I also don’t want her to give up. And I’m scared for Austin. He loves her so much, she is his bubba. She is everything I couldn’t be for him when he was little — his “of course we can have the best-ice-cream-in-the-whole-wide-world for breakfast, lunch AND dinner!” friend, his “I am your special-someone-who-never-says-no!” person and his “let’s-have-a-movie-marathon-day right after we pick up interesting rocks!” buddy. And that was just the early years… He is too young to feel this kind of fear and pain and sad.
Angels: That is a lot of scared. And a lot of sad. Is that all?
Me: No. There is more. I’m sad for other people too. Plus me.
Angels: You, of course. Can you talk about it?
Me: Yes. I’m scared that I feel so out of control. I’m sad that I can’t fix things. I’m afraid that I’m a disappointment. I’m afraid I’m not brave enough for all this. I’m afraid that this is the beginning of the things-will-only-get-worse-from-here times. I want to be peaceful and spiritual and, centered and, instead, I’m scared and sad and angry and all over the place. Then, on top of (or underneath) the “I’M NOT READY FOR THIS”-ness is also the small, but insistent “it is just a matter of time until this cancer nightmare happens to me and then what?” voice of abject terror. And I think I totally suck for even having time to form that selfish thought.
Angels: It must be hard to be so terribly sad and scared, and then even more hard to have to defend yourself against all of that nastyness and judgment. Do you know that it is only you who has created that stuff?
Me: It sounds like something I would do.
Angels: Oh, honey, you totally made that shit up. Only you can let it go. Then you will be free to sit with your scared and your sad and be loving to all of it. Can you let it go?
Me: I will think about it. Maybe I will try it. In the meantime, can you please watch out for her highest good?
Angels: Of course. She is loved. The Universe conspires on her behalf!
Me: Ummm, you do know, don’t you, that I’m not really sure that I even believe in you…
Angels: Yes. We also know that you think that might be a dealbreaker for us.
Me: The thought did cross my mind…
Angels: It’s not, sweet pea. We believe enough for everyone, especially you.
Please keep my creative, brilliant, genius mother with fabulous hair in your thoughts and prayers.
p.s. oh man, i know this is a super-rough rough draft. i’ve been awake for 30+ hours straight. i came home to take a nap. instead i wrote. i feel really vulnerable. please allow me this space to share my process. i know my way is probably not the same as your way. i also know it’s all good.