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WHAT DOESN'T KILL YOU MAKES YOU STRONGER

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It Aint Over

It Aint Over

BY VANESSA JOY WALKER

Have you ever experienced survivor’s guilt? Or has the fear of a future challenge prevented you from enjoying your life after a crisis?

I have experienced both of these scenarios.

Sixteen years ago, I received some news that would change the trajectory of my life forever: My husband was leaving me. I was 30 years old and had been working on getting my big break as an opera singer. The money wasn’t good, but that hadn’t been an issue because my then-husband was the primary breadwinner. I was convinced that his success was our success. But when we separated, the only thing we had to divvy up was debt; I had to rethink everything. I quickly learned that his success was not something we shared. So, I took a step back from singing and got a real job to pay my bills.

One month later, I found out I had cancer.

Life sucks sometimes.

How was I going to tell my new boss that I had cancer? I was her personal assistant and helped run her small film company and manage a busy family life. Cancer altered my future and derailed my dreams. The years following my diagnosis were horrible – surgeries, chemo, radiation, healthcare bills, and a looming divorce. It was difficult, but I survived.

Fighting and surviving cancer takes everything out of you, and I mean everything! Enduring any crisis changes your emotional DNA. It changes the way you see yourself and the way others see you. When I was in active treatment for breast cancer, I found myself apologizing for everything. I was late to work, late to events, and really just late for life! I constantly felt guilty, even though my tardiness was because of early morning radiation treatment and extreme fatigue. I was slow because I was navigating a crisis, and I was doing it quietly and alone.

I thought that perhaps after the treatments ended I would feel more like myself and a sense of normalcy would return. But there was no going back to ‘normal.’ I could only go forward into the unknown and hope that someday this new reality would feel comfortable.

And then, four years later, when my life was just starting to get back on track, I found myself back in a pink paper gown, listening to my doctor say, “The cancer is back.” I was angry, and I felt helpless. My life goals didn’t seem to matter anymore because I had to think about job security and health insurance. Even though I was newly married to my forever husband, I just wanted to die. Imagining that I could have a fantastic career with financial stability and a wonderful family seemed impossible. It still does sometimes.

I learned that the journey after a crisis is often more complicated than the journey through a crisis.

Constantly running in the background were the questions, “How much time do I have left?” or “Why did I survive when others died?” The wondering and worry were overwhelming. Some call this survivor’s guilt, but I call it survivor’s curiosity.

Here’s the thing: I can be a bit extra. I try to squeeze every ounce of living out of each day. It can be challenging for me to pause and simply enjoy the passing of time. The FOMO is real! The fear of wasting one moment or missing one opportunity weighs me down. It’s exhausting.

The label “cancer survivor” is heavy, and survivorship is uncomfortable. It’s like wearing jeans that are just a bit too tight while riding a bike in 90-degree weather. You get the point! I hated being the one who survived because it felt like I was supposed to be happy and grateful all the time. The label “Survivor” left no room to grieve what cancer and crisis had stolen from me – my youth, my dreams of having biological children, my breasts, my ovaries, and my pre-menopausal sex drive!

After each diagnosis and treatment regimen was completed, I struggled to acknowledge the lingering sadness, anger, and fear. It felt selfish to admit these feelings. So, I kept these thoughts hidden. And hiding things never helps.

Shedding the guilt of surviving and managing the survivor’s curiosity so that I could really LIVE – even thrive, took practice. Being a survivor of anything requires resilience.

Surviving only comes after suffering—the accolade is earned through sacrifice, pain, sadness, grief, and perseverance. To transform from survivor to thriver, I had to get creative at cultivating joy amidst the uncertain landscape of life after a crisis. Being a survivor assumes that you've accomplished or endured something difficult. And yet this accomplishment can leave you feeling lost, left behind, uncertain, and afraid of what's next. For me, it was through the act of acknowledging the crisis and sharing my story that I discovered a crisis born confidence to navigate life’s messiest moments.

Here are 4 things that continue to help me embrace survivorship:

MAKE SPACE FOR THE PAUSE. Pausing takes practice and planning. Scheduling out your moments of peace prepares you for survivorship. It is a unique kind of self-care to acknowledge the importance of space to download dreams and worries.

MAKE SPACE FOR YOUR PAIN. Pain and grief need room to breathe. As do the thoughts, feelings, and fears that come with them.

MAKE SPACE FOR YOUR GRATITUDE. Stepping into gratitude allows you to step away from fear. Gratitude is a miracle drug that nourishes your soul and lays the foundation for joy, peace, and happiness.

MAKE SPACE TO CELEBRATE. Yes, we are blessed to be here, but being here isn’t always easy. Be kind to yourself. Try letting a few minutes slip by, and trust that simply showing up is enough. It’s enough to celebrate the fact that you're still here! YOU are enough.

Here’s what I know for sure: A crisis puts you at the corner of possibility.

Why? Because challenges help us grow, learn and evolve. Difficulties make us kinder, more empathetic leaders, colleagues, and world citizens. No matter how much we prepare, we cannot avoid unforeseen diagnoses, losses, or disappointments.

We are all past, present, and future survivors of something! And every day that we choose to hope and step into JOY, we spread light in the darkness. And that, my friends, is a legacy worth fighting for!

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