Archive of a Breast Cancer Survivor
Can’t Explain the Feeling
There’s something about feeling frozen, metaphorically speaking, where the mind wants to communicate but the body doesn’t move. And I’ve been wanting to communicate lately, the weaving of words and images, to explain why I’ve been away, feeling frozen. It’s not like I’m depressed. I’m not. Rather I feel a pool of something, gossamer over water—and I am suspended. Time moves on but the desire to document my uneasiness has not been favorable. How does one capture that empty spot where one can put their finger within but not describe it? I keep saying to myself, be patient. The body will lose the aches and pains, and emotionally, the indescribable abyss will become something other. Today I meditated on experiencing good health, love and protection. Sometimes that is the best I can do—and that is OK. The good news is I am months out of chemo and I believe I’m doing rather well. Some time ago swirling pools and fine fabrics were what I imagined while deep in nightly dreams, where twill weaved delicate details with forecasts of the future I am now finally beginning to recognize. And this is good. Very good. The road to recovery has been amazing.