thank you for sharing, cancer

“Put a face and a name to your cancer”, Terri said.

“Um…what?”, I retorted.

I regularly see Terri, an Intuitive Reflexologist. She’s critical to my wellness team. She has helped me manage and uncover some serious emotions; helping me attack what I believe to be some of the root causes of my cancer. 

I’m pretty obsessed with having a recurrence prevention protocol. I exercise daily, eat plants, practice Qigong, keep a gratitude journal and ongoing conversation with God and research cancer prevention endlessly. I’m always wondering if what I’m doing is enough. Is what I can control enough?

Terri hit me in the gut when she said “you can control everything around you, but you are feeling like you can’t control the cancer. So control it by naming it and thanking it for its message.”

oomph. Name it? Really? I read in a book once (Radical Remission by Dr. Kelly Turner. GET THIS BOOK.) where cancer patients were counseled to send love to their cancer. Sending love to the cancer cells would actually repair them and help them return to their natural state. If love heals, then it makes sense love will heal a broken cell too. I can honestly say I’ve never thought to put a face and a name to my cancer. But when someone wants my attention, and I’m not responding, what do they do? They use my name!   ‘Lynnette! Hey you! I’m talking to you!’ When we hear our name we tend to sit up straighter and pay attention.

So, I picture my cancer as a little ray of sunshine. A small yellow creature with a big head and big eyes. She has a small round nose and a halo of pale yellow triangles. Her very thin arms and legs stick out behind the roundness of her belly. Her name? Carly. I whisper for her to come close. I passionately and kindly thank her for sharing; for delivering life saving messages to me. "Thank you, Carly, for the message to let go of the past. For the message to love myself. For the message to Trust God; banish fear", I say. 

It would take a lot to convince me that the trauma of my first marriage didn’t contribute to my disease. The stress and the absolute devastation and grief (not to mention sorrow) I carried those three years decimated my physical body and my soul. I didn’t continue to display outward bitterness for the betrayal and divorce, but after 8 years, I still had physical reactions when I thought back to that time of my life. My chest tightened and my heart raced. Tears would well up and that pit in my stomach would become a huge black hole. I kept telling myself I had forgiven him and it “didn’t matter” anymore. But it did matter. 

I knew I was healing when about 3 years ago I was helping a newer friend paint her living room. I started telling her my story and found myself laughing. The story is a soap opera and recounting it made it sound so absurd. I mean, it does include human trafficking, the FBI, and a mistress who faked a pregnancy then faked a miscarriage only then to actually become pregnant. I still can’t figure out how those events ended up being a part of MY life story. But, it was the first time in 8 years I talked about it and didn’t cry. I often told myself that my ex-husband was a broken person. He was not healthy and not acting from a place of health. If he were, he wouldn’t have done what he did. One day I woke up believing that in my bones. I KNEW he was not capable of being healthy— mind, body or spirit. And it set me free. I wrote him a letter expressing how grateful I was that I was released from that marriage. And I wished him well. And meant it. And now, I feel, well, nothing when his name comes up or my story resurfaces somewhere. And that feels GOOD. (You can read more about that letter here.) 

I learned to love myself and forgive myself for making those choices a decade ago. I learned to love my incredible body. It has been through so much yet it continues to work for me every second of every day. How can I deny it love? I love my life. I love it. My heart is so grateful to be a wife and a mom. I am worthy. I am loved. I am love.

I am banishing fear and trusting God. I don’t get nearly as anxiety ridden about our finances as I did just a year ago. I quit working full time so I could focus on my health and spend precious time with my young daughter. I have been freelancing which has been wonderful. On paper, we can’t really pay all our bills on Michael’s salary alone. But God is so faithful! There always seems to be work for me when we need to supplement our income and we’ve not missed ONE payment. 

I receive your message, Carly. I do not see a need for you to return. Thank you, from the depths of my heart, for sharing. I send you on with love and gratitude. Be well. 

I will be.