Finding a way to describe what it feels like to face the one year anniversary of my AML diagnosis is difficult. On one hand, this should be one of the greatest weeks of my life. Death was put right in front of my face, and somehow, I'm fortunate enough to say I'm still here, and quite possibly in better shape than I've been in since the last 10 years of my life. On the other hand, it's quite overwhelming knowing how I felt one year ago and how I spent the next 8 months going through treatment. It doesn't help that I recently found a GoPro video I had taken of Remi and the dogs one day before I went to the hospital where I noticed that I was so pale and visibly so sick that I really just wanted to delete it in an attempt to also erase the memories that came along with it.
I've learned so many things about myself and those closest to me in the last year. I've been able to define more of what is truly important to me, who I want to be currently and how I want to grow as a person, learning how to appreciate the little moments, etc. However, I'm still in a spot where thinking too far ahead to the future is scary. Today, I feel so good- like, I can ski, do cardio, lift weights, chase around an active Rembot, and I'd have to say the one thing that truly weighs me down is the fact that it can all be taken away from me in an instant. Not that this is really any different from the general public, but once again, I'm hyperaware the things I hold close could be gone before I want them to be. So, here I am in this place where I'm constantly thinking...what if all these plans I have never come to be? Obviously, it's something I have to work past and I feel that it will ease over time, as more time in remission means less chance of AML returning, but the days I don't think about it are probably some of the better days I have- and for the record, most days aren't too bad, but this week, eh, it's not one of the better ones.
Looking back, the past 3 years of my life have been filled some life changing events that some people never get to experience in a lifetime, let alone 3 years. Pregnancy, preterm labor, gallbladder removal, two job changes, two moves, cancer, remission. Although it hasn't necessarily started out the way I wanted it to, I've decided that 2017 is going to be my year- a year where I take back my life through adventuring, shakin' da butt with the Rembot, food, photos, etc.
I recently read the book "Orange is Optimism" by Kit Whistler and J.R. Switchgrass, a book about idle theory living, van life, and seeking what they call "Sanity". While it wasn't quite the book I pictured in my mind after following their Instagram account (@idletheorybus) for so long, one paragraph stays with me which I hope to carry this year to absorb as much of life as I can:
"The most important thing you can do to heal your civilized wounds is go outside, because in the wild lands, you remember that we are not alone. In our sheltered lives, we've forgotten that we're prey as much as we're predator. We've lost a lot of dignity in doing so, because unless we are willing to lose something, we can never truly enjoy it. This is as true for love as it is for our own lives. We're meant to live with pounding hearts, unsure of what will happen from one deep breath to another. We were born wild and free, and should do everything in our power to protect that wilderness."
Cheers to the year ahead and protecting the wilderness in our lives.
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