The Rebuild

Photo taken pre-quarantine.

Quarantined for months, it’s only natural to reflect.

The world is changing. People around me are changing. What about me? Where’s my life headed?

In a way, it reminds me of scans in pulling me out of the day-to-day to focus on results. And results can be a tricky business. On one hand, I’m still going strong on the quest for wellness. You’d think that in itself should be all that counts. Like right there, mic drop.

But I’m human and we tend to get caught up in what’s lacking, and holding ourselves accountable to the endless game of what have you done lately?

Unfortunately, as any cancer fighter knows, bouncing back proves difficult. There are that rare breed who seem able to get up and go, just like that. For myself at least, I’m still navigating through the mess. Physically impaired and emotionally damaged with gained expenses and lost opportunities… building any momentum at all can feel like trudging through mud in a hurricane, especially as the world’s expectations and demands pick back up. The challenge’s true magnitude only seems to unveil itself more and more over time.

But you’ve got to start somewhere and I’m starting with small, achievable improvements. Little upgrades around the apartment like new coffee mugs and dishes, or sorting through mounds of clutter that built up behind the scenes (likely a physical manifestation of my spirits) throughout survival mode. It reminds me of an excerpt from Malcolm Gladwell’s The Tipping Point, which discussed Manhattan’s crime problem during the ‘80s. The subway system in particular was in shambles. Cars were filled with crime, broken windows and graffiti, leaving people afraid to ride. To combat this, the transit authority created a plan that started by cleaning graffiti and making sure to keep it off. The cleaning began to show riders that the system was being fixed. Police then attacked the smaller problems like small crime and fair jumpers, and eventually the situation improved. Subways became safe and relatively clean.

It took thirty years to get where I was before a meteor of trauma unleashed its devastation; I don’t anticipate a quick fix. However, I do believe the rebuild is important. Otherwise, what were we fighting for to begin with? A life of fear and complacency? Everyone deserves a chance at peace and happiness. And while many of us struggle to figure out a future and identity outside of cancer, I’m not sure you can force it. In the meantime, I keep stoking the fire inside; the fire filled with hope and belief, that’s fueled my survival this far, and that fuels my search for light at the end of the tunnel.