Are we really alive? Warning, vulnerable share here:
It is interesting to observe myself through this period of life. I have entered a season I’ve never experienced before and find myself in a role that I did not anticipate finding myself in.
Each day is filled with contrasting extremes on the emotional spectrum. There are moments of some of the deepest feelings of purpose service that I have ever felt in my life – to be needed in such a way that it can be life enhancing? Lifesaving? - the feeling is indescribable.
Then the contrast comes; feelings of uselessness – to feel useless in such a way, that feeling is also indescribable.
My present day-to-day life is much different than my former day-to-day life. There are adjustments that I am learning to make with that.
My career is in a strange holding pattern. I had two perspective clients, one keynote engagement, pass on working with me because they were concerned that I might be “distracted” by what is going on in my personal life.
I can appreciate their concern and they have every right to be as there have certainly been and likely will be more moments where I am not as focused as I usually am.
On the other hand, my current clients and I have had some of the most meaningful and impactful conversations in recent time. We have been able to accelerate progress in certain areas because the dialogue we build around it has a different context today than it did a couple months ago. As one recently said,
“everything hits different today than before… I realize now, more than ever, I have such precious little time to make my life the masterpiece I know I’ve been called to make of it.”
More contrasts - for some, “I may be too distracted.” For others, what I have to offer “connects at a level that I haven’t tapped into before.”
This past week we met with new members of our medical team. I liked all of them. So did Amanda. Each conversation was a contrast:
Moments of feeling like you have been punched in the stomach as the wind rushes out of you hearing another person remind us of how steep the mountain, we plan on climbing is.
Moments of overwhelming hope when each person delicately respectfully uses words like cure remission, “It doesn’t happen often, but I’ve seen it before, and if anyone can do it, it is you.” (I cry every time someone is willing to risk saying the above. The tears are not hope, they are tears of knowing).
Each interaction ends with the doctor taking a moment to acknowledge their own feeling of “awe” that they experienced after meeting Amanda and observing the way she is carrying herself through this. One of them even ventured to say,
“I have been doing this a long time I have seen everything until today… you are incredible. We need to keep you alive.”
Deep breaths.
Alive…
Gosh that word has taken on a different meaning for me.
Amanda and I sat talking in the car for about 30 minutes after her last appointment. We discussed the various people we had met as well as the proposed treatments. We talked about her diagnosed disease, and we also talked about the undiagnosed one.
Me: “There are two diseases we are focusing on healing from: complacency cancer. We would be wasting the gift of healing if we do not treat the complacency.”
Prior to this shake up, Amanda I both suffered from complacency. We had fallen into the routines of life. There was nothing bad about it. We woke up, worked, did our thing, maybe hung out for a few minutes at night, went to bed, then rinse repeat.
Nothing will shake you out of complacency faster than life.
In minutes our world changed we immediately came together. For a month, nothing was familiar. We were in and out of hospitals. Away from home. Facing challenge after challenge riding the emotional roller coaster that goes with it.
Then as soon as we left, we found ourselves back home. The familiar walls that housed the complacency. The familiar distractions that helped nurture the complacency. The hurtful memories that helped fuel it.
When I wrestle with my own feelings of uselessness, I hear the whisper of complacency, “It’s ok. Tune out. Go in the other room.”
Are we truly alive when we live our days on autopilot? Are we really alive when we have grown so complacent in the routine that we have stopped being the architects of our life?”
Every time someone asks me, “How are you doing?” I give them two answers:
Answer 1 = an honest assessment of how I am thinking/feeling in the moment. Sometimes this is “pretty good,” other times it’s “ok,” and still others it is “I have been having a few rough moments.”
Answer 2 = “Through all of this I continue to be in awe of Amanda.”
What is awe?
It Is not only because of her unwavering attitude through all of this. That is a contributing factor, but not all of it.
The awe comes because I have seen this special soul wake up. The metaphor of the butterfly emerging from a cocoon is appropriate. I have never seen her more alive. That is what I am in “awe” of.
The truth is that all of us have been given a terminal diagnosis.
Maybe you have not had a medical professional illuminate a timer over your head like we have, but make no mistake, your timer is there. It always has been there. It is counting down.
None of us ever need to wait for someone to illuminate our timer to compel us to wake up and become more alive. Aliveness is in our DNA it is etched into our soul.
Complacency is addictive. I never appreciated the hypnosis of the addiction until this past month. I wrestle with it daily. Each day it lures me back to sleep. Each day I demand to stay awake, present, and alive.
Some days I do much better than others.
Speaking of being awake… I just looked at the clock and realized I have been working at this for nearly two hours! Yet another of life’s contrasts – by the time I hit publish I will have invested well over two hours in producing this. It took you, if you are still reading, probably 5ish minutes to read it.
Was a good investment?
I hope so.
Time will tell for both of us. If you have taken something meaningful, something useful from this ramble then maybe it was a good investment for you.
For me, I’ve been able to give language to some of what I have been thinking feeling. I have honored what I feel is an important commitment that I made to you, which is to share vulnerably transparently through all the ups, downs, twists, turns of this journey.
Last few words for now. I need to get on with my day and so do you as we both have our respective “aliveness” that needs expression:
Most of the bull shit… you know the stuff that we stress about, get anxiety over, worry about, judge ourselves over, complain about, blame others for, etc… that is the stuff that fuels complacency and leads to falling asleep aka becoming “stuck” in life. It only persists because we live under the hypnosis of complacency, and it is in that hypnosis where we begin to believe the biggest lie of all “that I will have tomorrow…”
I will have tomorrow to:
Do things better. Make amends. Forgive. Start exercising. Quit my job. Make love to my partner. Write my book. Run a marathon. Put the phone away. Turn off the tv. Call my dad. Etc…
Complacency leads us to think that our time is infinite and, in that infinity, there will always be another chance to make tomorrow be the day that you wanted today to be.
The truth is that time, specifically YOUR time, is finite. If you want to experience infinity, embrace the finiteness of your life. This is the space where infinite love, joy, happiness… all the good stuff exists.
It’s not tomorrow. It’s not even five minutes from now. It Is Right Now. Because right now has always been your gift waiting to be unwrapped.
Do not wait any longer to open it find out what is inside.
With love,
Jesse
With love,
Jesse
P.S.
If you or someone you love is going through a difficult diagnosis and needs a little extra support, please consider joining the "It's Your Time to Shine" Facebook group.
If you are new here …
May 19th 2024 our lives changed drastically when Amanda was diagnosed with a grade 4 glioblastoma brain tumor.
This is among the most aggressive cancers with an average life expectancy of 16 months.
We accept the diagnosis, but we do not accept the prognosis.
There are outliers in the world - people who are living for decades beyond their diagnosis.
We are determined Amanda will be one of them.
We are sharing our journey in hopes that it can help others with theirs.
Thank you for being on this journey with us.
With love,
Jesse Amanda
