Even when trauma is in your rearview mirror, it’s still part of your landscape…

For me, this most shows up after a chemo battle; I am always left feeling vulnerable, in most areas of life. My body is weak, lacking more than just muscle strength. My mind is desperately seeking to be curious again, and recall words and memories from deep within a chemical fog. My emotions often fly free from any form of clarity, and instead feel more like spring waterfalls flowing into the rapids of exhaustion I can’t shake.

All areas of my personality are vulnerable, and I see myself as more a caricature cut and paste together from whatever remnants are still present. If feeling defeated, that picture then goes grey, and usually holds for a good bit.

Color feeds into my outlook when my synapses start to snap back, and usually after a good rally cry. My body plays a big role in this recovery, obviously. I have always been good at pulling myself up out of the bottom of despair, and I have come to rely on this skill each and every time I go into battle.

As the months pass, and my efforts start showing results, my strength in all areas stretch into pride. But no matter how far away I get from diagnosis, I can always pull focus on the memories. I will always see the shades of grey that once enveloped my world and I can still taste the tears of fear that I kept to myself.

This new landscape has remnants of my old life, but now holds the reality of the new world I walk in. I can never haul away the debris the storms left behind, they are there to remind me of the places I have been, and to guide me in seeking the vistas I am meant to visit in the future.

While I cannot forget the hard things I have been through, I will choose to celebrate that they are for now, in my rearview mirror.

PEXELS.COM PHOTO: Gantas Vaičiulėnas