I deserve a new story. We all do.
Today, I will break up with my story. Will you break up with yours?
I will say to my story, “Thank you story. Thank you for making me who I am now, in this present moment. I now release you out into the universe as I ask for a different, healthier path to follow.”
OK Universe, I get it. Clearly you’re trying to tell me something.
I recently wrote about my story as a cancer patient and revealed just how alone I feel. Wrapped up, unraveling, little bits of hope and pain and fear all trying to crowd the same space. But then I heard this quote by the wise Maya Angelou, and it goes like this: “Hope and fear cannot occupy the same space at the same time. Invite one to stay.”
G-d? Is that you?
I wrote that last piece for the blog quickly, the words just gushing out of me like a river that was afraid it was be swallowed whole by the ocean if it didn’t move briskly enough.
Then that night I remembered that my free 21-day Deepak Chopra meditation started. I logged on. The topic? Hope in Uncertain Times. Touche Deepak, touché.
I click on my spirit junkie app. That day’s affirmation? “I will step back and let the Universe lead me today.”
I log onto my email. A video from Gabby Bernstein. The message? “You deserve a new story.”
I sit back on the couch with my legs curled underneath me, resting my head on the pillows and pulling a blanket over me even though the room isn’t cold. I want to feel secure, wrapped up in something other than deep and incessant fear. I close my eyes and think.
This is what I have been putting out into the universe:
Sadness. Fear. Anger. Jealousy. Bitterness. Lethargy.
The universe responded in kind, and this is what I heard:
Stop telling yourself the same story over and over again. You’re not just a cancer patient. You’re not a victim. You’re not powerless or hopeless or helpless. It’s OK to feel that way sometimes, but remember: Just because you feel it, doesn’t make it true.
Re-write a new story with the help of the universe.
I create one in my mind. It goes something like this:
I’m ready to let this go. Thank you for giving me a wake-up call 3+ years ago that I can’t hit the snooze button on life anymore. I know I was a walking zombie there for a while. There has always been potential inside of me to love a bit deeper, help a bit more, find greater fun and meaning and authenticity in the every day, but it slept still as the night, only awakened by the C word. The D word. The oh-fuck-I-better-live-my-life-like-I-mean-it-word.
I’m ready for my new story, and I hope it goes something like this:
New Cancer Protocol. Life. Family. Friends. Prayers. Fun. Work. Passion. Advocacy. Healing. More fun. Glitter. Unicorns. Sunshine. Feathers. Bravery. Iced coffee. High vibes. Long walks. Magic. The beach. Self-compassion (I’m talking about loving myself as much as I love all of you). Bagels. Massages. Puppy. Miracles. Opportunities. Gratitude confetti. Travel. Stillness. Peace. Love. Meditation. Repeat.
Thank you Universe.
“I will step back and let the universe lead me today.”
And the living with hope in uncertain times? I am reminded– I hear you g-d, loud and clear–of a blog piece that I wrote years and years ago, that I now know, as certain as anything, will be my very first chapter.
Remember how I wrote Chapter 2 which started to outline my story? The one with the infertility and eye cancer and miscarriage and shoulder surgery and cancer again? I knew that I wanted Chapter 1 to be about hope.
The piece that I had already written? It was called With Hope Comes Life.
The phone rings. My best friend A is coming to visit from Austin at the end of the month.
I hear you g-d, I hear you universe, and I thank you.