Really God??!

     Although it seems that a Catholic school upbringing has tainted many a young person’s view of the Deity, I, for whatever reason, never bought into an image of a punishing, revengeful God.  In fact, I never thought of God as anything but a caring, loving Super-Being who only wanted the best for me.  And by and large, the circumstances of my life bore this out. I have had a great deal of “luck” and good things have always come my way, from having been raised within a loving family to having had access to a good education and employment opportunities.  I just couldn’t complain, although having seen myself as especially entitled, I certainly did.  Even having breast cancer didn’t shake my confidence in my everlasting good luck. Sure, it was unfortunate, but so many people I knew had also been diagnosed and, so, I didn’t feel at all persecuted or singled out.  In fact, I felt almost fortunate in that I suddenly acquired a new attitude and a new direction and, thus, was extremely grateful.  To be completely honest, breast cancer introduced me to a whole world of wonderful women doing kind and generous deeds and persuaded me that I could be one of those women. It was all quite positive and I even felt what one might call “blessed.”

     Until July 2016 and the day that I was diagnosed with head and neck cancer and told that I must undergo a long, brutal treatment process in order to survive.  To say that I was shocked is, truly, an understatement.  In one moment, I felt my life go from a very lucky and mostly pleasant existence to one of fear, darkness and utter confusion.  And I felt betrayed…betrayed by this all-loving God who had been my support for a half-decade.  I was devastated.

     So it was that throughout the painful, arduous treatment process, I sought some means of reconciling these feelings.  I tried to rationalize the situation, telling myself that “it could be a lot worse.”  I looked for comfort in a belief that the cancer was a “gift” that would allow me to help others similarly stricken through teaching yoga and meditation and by offering my support and comfort.  I even resorted to an attempt to view the experience as an opportunity for personal growth.  Now I don’t think that these considerations are false or foolish but, rather, I believe that they are correct and true.  Unfortunately, however, believing these thoughts did not impact my sense of betrayal, my feelings of anger or my self-pity.  I tried, repeatedly, to rationalize these away, but they held tight and kept me stuck.  Eventually, as I finished treatment and looked forward to some recovery, I became more capable of quieting the demons and even ignoring them.  But they did not retreat; they only laid dormant.

     Fast-forwarding to today, 4 months post-treatment, and I’m beginning to realize that several recent attempts to address the stuck feelings are actually beginning to modify them and might even result, eventually, in their resolution.

     So what has been helpful?  First of all, acknowledging and then talking about the feelings with a few very trustworthy friends has, most certainly, been healing.  I had been stuffing these emotions and even denying them and, so, they had remained stuck.  Just putting the negative  feelings into words seemed to make them a bit lighter.  Upon doing so, one dear friend advised me to be patient with myself and to “leave room for grace.”  This turned out to be one of the most beneficial pieces of advice I received.  Still, it took a great deal of effort to put this into practice.  Patience and surrendering control have never been my fortes and I had to bring to mind this advice many times over.  When I did, I always experienced a sense of ease.  The advice helped too when I consciously attempted to sit with the feelings, to really feel them and not run away.  Slowly, they began to lose power and, especially, to seem less shameful – more acceptable.

     Another opportunity to heal came to me, rather randomly, while watching an old television series.  The character on the show was experiencing some hard luck and when she finally weathered the difficulties, she explained to another character that she came through successfully by realizing, simply, that bad things happen to everyone and that no one is exempt.  Hearing this was like being knocked in the head and, in a flash, the truth of it was evident to me and, more importantly, it was immensely comforting.  I ceased feeling so alone and “chosen” for disaster.

     Finally, I come back to Paul, my dear companion throughout this recent hell.  Prior to my diagnosis, in all the years that I’ve known him, as well as throughout the entire ordeal, he has role-modeled acceptance.  In his own life, he takes things as they come and I have never heard him express self-pity or the belief that he has been singled out or is being persecuted.  And he is so certain in this conviction that I have been compelled to examine its applicability to my own circumstance.  In doing so, I have realized the truth…that we each are given challenges we must either embrace or endure in order to move forward and to grow and that no one person’s hardships are meted out as punishment or retribution.  It seems, rather, that the difficulties we encounter are merely some among many and we are called to confront them, incorporate their lessons, and move beyond.

     I cannot conclude without acknowledging what appears to be the power of prayer.  Since my diagnosis, family, friends, co-workers and even an entire monastery of monks in upstate New York prayed for me.  In light of this, how can I possibly consider myself unlucky or abandoned by the Great Universal Spirit that many of us call God?

     I am breathing easier today, as I feel myself letting go of the unproductive and stifling feelings and embracing the freedom.  And I am grateful…to all of my teachers.