I move forward in this place

Over the past few months, various events or things have triggered me.

Some are minuscule, such as a sound or smell that will set off several memories. Others are more significant, a bodily sensation, an ache, cough, or the like that provokes a more powerful emotional/psychological response.

I note these reactions, a tactic I use to help ground myself. From there, I can move forward, understanding more about it (the trigger) and my relationship with it. If I can, witnessing myself is the trick; detecting what is occurring before being consumed.

The milestone of the five-year cancer-free mark is not an exemption from fear and worry. Sometimes they peak at the same level they did while amid treatment – periodically even more so.

Nights are difficult. Anyone who has experienced a tumultuous and life-altering event can attest that this is when the little dark fears emerge from the woodwork.

A few weeks ago, I returned from Samsø, Denmark (see the previous update here or blog post on thiscyclicallife.blog). A small island with under 4,000 inhabitants, nestled snuggly off the Jutland peninsula. Though it has several adorable little towns, the 40-something square mile island is used primarily for agricultural purposes. To say that it is a walkers’ paradise is an understatement.

When I am state-side, I often sit with these “little dark fears” only to a certain point. It wasn’t a bold pursuit or some other brave endeavor that granted me the time and pace to do so on Samsø; it happened as if on its own.

One night, awoken by worries and fears, I dressed, grabbed my raincoat, and walked. It was almost a knee-jerk reaction. As I joked to a few people, the beautiful thing about an island is that you can’t get lost; you ramble through fields and upon well-worn tractor paths, and sooner or later, you’ll encounter the ocean.

Every evening I filled my rucksack with: a rainjacket, another base layer, extra socks, a flashlight, a field recorder, and bread, butter, and honey, just in case. Then, I’d begin walking if I woke in the night, regardless of the time and conditions, to discover that the fears were present.  

State-side, if my worries and fears become too great, and my audiobook or music doesn’t cut through the mix, I’ll bust out trusty ol’ Netflix. I didn’t have such distractions there. Though I purchased a Danish SIM card for emergencies, I didn’t carry my phone or bring my pre-downloaded audiobook.

Bringing the field recorder was the best decision. I didn’t intend to record myself, but I’d sit on some slight rise or the beach and try to collect my thoughts and gather my ideas while talking aloud – a practice I began while in school as it helped me work out ideas. My words were wandering much in the way I was rambling physically.

I have a project in mind for the recordings. Though what follows are some excerpts and snippets I pulled that I found revealing.

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I move forward in this place (of recovery)

A beacon pulling / a signal drawing

Being held – here

I have learned to live with the memory of you [cancer], as one does with something that echoed, a thing that came.

The lights of Aarhus could be another world – a gentle glow (western paling sky). Aarhus could be Boston from here – Mass General could be anywhere. I could be anywhere. I am here.

Birds; two, then three, then 4, and 5 (a dance that says ‘we are together in this; we heal together.’)