Chapter 38: Unquenchable Thirst
Scared, but hopeful, hugs with Marisa before craniotomy #1. The surgeons place tracing stickers across your head pre-MRI
I read a quote yesterday that I absolutely cannot get out of my mind. It is from a book that was given to me by my Aunt Kathleen, “Lovingkindness: The Revolutionary Art of Happiness” written by Sharon Salzberg. In this book, she says:
“The difference between misery and happiness depends on what we do with our attention. Do we, in the midst of water, look for something elsewhere to drink?”
Think about that. I know I do. For much of my life, I think I have failed to see the beauty and happiness all around me as I’ve been in search of something “better.” When I read this quote, I picture myself swimming in a beautiful, crystal-clear pool of fresh water yet all I can think about it how thirsty I am, how much happier I would be if I had a bottle of fancy Fiji water to drink.
Would I really be happier with my fancy bottled water? I can almost 100% say no, I would not be. The crystal-clear water I am already in is probably the source of my overpriced bottled water anyways. Yet, it’s hard for my mind to realize how good I already have it sometimes.
Today was a very busy day for me. I worked in the virtual telemedicine urgent care all morning, went to a radiation therapy trial run (gotta be sure they’re only killing the bad parts of my brain. I’ll keep the rest, thanks), talked to my oncologist, went on a 3-mile run, and practiced yoga at home (Thanks for the great class, CorePower on Demand…its’ free right now!). Then, I spent a few minutes whining to myself about my current situation.
Now, I’m writing this blog post, partly because I’m sad, and partly because I wonder if some of you can relate to this feeling of wanting, of looking for something to drink when you’re already in the midst of water.
Sharon Salzberg also says many other wise quotes in this book. At one point, she states:
“When we experience mental or physical pain, we often feel a sense of isolation, a disconnection from humanity and life. Our shame sets us apart in our suffering at the very times when we need most to connect.”
That quote really sums up the essence of why I’m writing a blog in “real time” as I deal with emotionally processing cancer, brain surgeries, medical residency, this pandemic, and social distancing, among other things.
At one point early on in this blog, I spoke about my history of depression. Many of my friends reached out and said how sorry they were for not noticing that I was going through this at the time. This surprised me because they really have nothing to feel sorry about; it was my mostly-subconscious decision to keep quiet about this at the time because I felt ashamed by it. “Our shame sets us apart in our suffering.”
Shame, go away. I have no time for you anymore.
Working with many patients during this pandemic, I have noticed that many people with histories of depression and anxiety (and also those without these diagnoses) are really struggling right now as they try to deal with social distancing, isolation, and a fear of the unknown.
If this applies to you, remember that you, too, are surrounded by water, by happiness, by love. Since my experience with depression, I have worked on finding mindfulness, finding happiness with today, with now, with the water I’m already in the midst of.
The recent roller-coaster ride of my cancer diagnosis (first low grade... now malignant and angry) makes me feel mental pain. Not depression, but sadness. When I feel sad, it is often easier for me to sink into an "Oh poor me, I’m so isolated, so disconnected” type of mindset.
But, I refuse to feel shame about having real emotions. I will not hide my suffering with cancer as I did with my depression. I will write about it here, for you to read, because suffering is not a unique experience. We all suffer. Not always with cancer, but we are all suffering in some way. Do not feel shame in this. We are not alone in our suffering.
“Our shame sets us apart in our suffering at the very times when we need most to connect.” This is unfortunately, incredibly true. Let’s make it less true. Shame, stigma, go the F away.
Life is tough right now, for all of us. When your mind goes to dark places, do not feel alone. On my run today, I realized that (at least for me), the water Salzberg is talking about is actually love. Throughout this journey, I have felt surrounded by love and I thank my family and friends so much for that.
“Do we, in the midst of water, look for something elsewhere to drink?” I know I am surrounded by love and I refuse to let the shame of admitting to my suffering lead me to feel more isolation, disconnection, or to search for something that is already all around me.
One of my favorite mantras comes from Thich Nhat Hanh, “Darling, I am suffering. Please help.” These six words can be very difficult to say, but sometimes they are the most important six words we can say.
Thank you all for your help. Please know, especially during these trying times, that I am here for you as well. There is no shame in suffering. As I said before, sometimes it’s ok to cry on the StairMaster (or anywhere, damnit!).
We are a train going through a dark tunnel, and there is light on the other side. I can’t take credit for this and have to thank my own incredible therapist for her wise thoughts. We will get through this tunnel and emerge into the light, feeling wiser, calmer, and more loved than we knew was possible.
Fondly,
Courtney
© CB2020