reflecting on comfort zones

Wandjina Gorge WA - September 2013You get a lot of time to think when you’re spending much of your treatment time in isolation from the world. By the time the chemo cycles and radiation treatment end, five months will have passed since discovering the tumour and its subsequent diagnosis. Yet I’m very aware that my experience which included a relatively minor lumpectomy and happily clear lymph nodes has been and will have been an easier ride compared to many.

Despite these matters of degree, increased levels of self-awareness have kicked in with all this time on my hands.

My desire to withdraw from the world has ramped up (or is it down). Not surprising for a declared introvert but perhaps ironic, given that this blog has been a way of writing through the experience and putting it out there, for all who care to see, as a record of what’s happening through the blur.

A light is shining on my ‘normal’ modus operandi in the world, which is also peppered with periods of withdrawal albeit not forced ones.

I am very grateful for the continued communication and support from family and friends, old and new, despite my responses being guiltily close to negligible at times.

Time and space on my own have always been important elements for my survival in the world. If I can’t write or read or take photographs my days feel impoverished.

Yet, once the recovery period starts, I know I have to shift the balance and make more time for stronger connections to those closest to me. At the end of the day, they are the true comfort zones.

 

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One thought on “reflecting on comfort zones”

  1. I am grateful for your posts. Perhaps you can feel our concern and yearning for your health and recovery. You get to do it however you can and want to do it. We will all be waiting to welcome you warmly as though our conversations never ended, because in a way, they didn’t. Your tribe is beating the drum to help you keep cadence, so words are just a part of it. The announcer is calling for 5th and final, 5th and final for Walsh’s chemo. Suit up and let’s be done with it. And while we’re talking about it, may I say this: Well done, Lynne.

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