Rebirth

Near the end of my treatment my mom and I were driving down to Mayo Clinic for yet another appointment. Most times we talked, but usually we would spend the drive arguing about Covid lockdowns and the double standards I was starting to see in the medical community. I was fired up about it, quickly triggered because I felt the medical community had almost duped me with their fear tactics, too.

I usually played my favorite songs playlist in the background and in a short moment of silence one of my favorite songs came on, so I turned it up a little. We listened to the first verse, and then the chorus started... All of a sudden the lyrics had a new meaning than what I’d heard before with my mom sitting next to me. I could tell out of the corner of my eye she had tears running down her face. She heard the words too.

“No one can win this time.

I just want you back.

I’m running to your side flying my white flag.

My love where are you?

Whenever you’re ready, can we surrender?”

She quietly wiped her tears without trying to draw attention to them. Our relationship was changing and she noticed it too. The topic was too big to broach at the time, or maybe I just didn’t have to energy to, after defending my decision to stay unvaccinated. But the distance between us was growing further and further, week after week, as I blossomed into an independent, free-thinking adult… something my soul has needed for a long time. A transformation was happening. It must have been hard for her to realize that I didn’t need her anymore. I didn’t lean on her anymore. I didn’t look to her for my answers, opinions, confirming what I already knew. But I could tell she desperately wanted her old daughter back, but that version of her was far gone and not returning again.

Forest fires can be devastating, burning through trees that have been standing for hundreds of years. It’s sad to think about them going up in flames so quickly when it took so much nurturing from Mother Nature for them to grow to that point. But as the fire dies, there’s stillness, and out of the stillness there’s regrowth. Bountiful and strong. I was that forest. Cancer destroyed everything I thought I was, and how I viewed the world and how to live my life. The forest fire was the diagnosis. The stillness was those first few months of the unknown. And the regrowth was my veracious spirit. It was a rebirth. My mom witnessing the change in real time. She grew me to that point, her little forest. In a way she created that version of me. But it was my time to create the version of me that I was meant for.

I’m still unsure why it was so heart breaking for her. Possibly because she felt she was losing me, but what she failed to see was how I started to blossom. She misunderstood my passion for injustice as sadness. Independence from her as reclusion. My self-care routines as fear. But I have never felt so much happiness, fulfillment and joy in my life, grateful for the smallest gifts. Eyes wide open to the injustices in the world and grateful for the knowledge so I can choose to side step them, maintaining my peace.