Last month I wrote about the eye of the hurricane. Since then I’ve found out that even my dog has cancer, apparently a very aggressive form of osteosarcoma. We elected to remove the tumor, which meant taking out 60% of his collarbone. My canine athlete, running partner and studly ski jor partner is now limping around the house with a 14-inch scar running across his shoulder. My heart breaks for him but I know he has more living to do. I’ll have to run without him, which sucks. Also, my stubborn mother who refused to leave her house to move into assisted living fell and broke her hip and her hand. She’s now recovering in a nursing home, the very place she was trying to stay out of.
And that leads me to my latest revelation in this year of challenges. There have been many lessons in 2014 but probably the biggest one is that most of my suffering has come from trying to avoid discomfort. I’ve tried to avoid the grief of losing my dear mother-in-law. I’ve tried to be in denial of my mother’s illness and her lack of love for me. I refused to call my breast cancer “cancer” and downplayed it so much that several people didn’t even realize I had radiation. So many emotions I’ve tried to escape, at the same time projecting the worst that could happen and giving myself the worst anxiety I’ve ever had (and that’s saying something) topped off with a case of hives.
Last week I got a message from one of my guides. “Run toward it,” he said. “Run toward it with joy and wild abandonment. It’s part of a perfect plan.”
If that wasn’t a “DUH” moment I don’t know what is. I have been able to find peace inside of all of this chaos but I’m still hiding in there. What I need to do is jump into it, let it throw me around like a towel in a washing machine and see what happens. I need to stay in the moment and experience every single dirty, painful, “why me” moment of this lifetime. Because there are more miracles ahead of me.
“We must embrace pain and burn it as fuel for our journey.” -Kenji Miyazawa