Since I was diagnosed with lymphoma in August, I’ve been striving to step out of my comfort zone a little bit more. This has taken shape in many forms, although trying to break old patterns and try new things are certainly reoccurring themes. For example, I’m getting better at setting boundaries (e.g. saying no to the things that aren’t serving me); I’m spending more time being and less time doing (and trying not to feel guilty about it); I’m trusting my gut and listening to my body more (e.g. when I’m tired I sleep); I’m enjoying the little things (e.g. appreciating the sound of leaves crunching under my feet); I’m trying to be more daring (e.g. getting naked in the forest); and I’m tapping into my creative side a bit more (e.g. I’ve made some pottery, done some drawings and paintings, written some poetry, and recently started taking guitar lessons).
Today I’m taking another step out of my comfort zone into the unknown. I’m attending a retreat in Ontario hosted by the organization Young Adult Cancer Canada (YACC) www.youngadultcancer.ca, where, for the next four days I’ll be spending time with a group of people I’ve never met exploring our realities with cancer (experiences, fears, etc.). This step feels like a big one, and I’m feeling slightly scared, vulnerable, and excited.
For some of you, I’m guessing that the fact I’m feeling trepidatious about this retreat may come as a surprise; I go to retreats with young people often. While this is true, at most of the retreats I attend I am the facilitator and not an active participant. As a facilitator I often hold space for people to share and am considered a “keeper of the process,” yet today I am relinquishing that role and becoming a participant, where I will be asked to be vulnerable and share my fears and edges about cancer, and where I must put my faith and trust in others to support me on my journey. I certainly feel a wee bit scared, and it’s time to take that step outside my comfort zone once again.
Deep down I know that this is what I need, and still I can’t help but feeling a wee bit scared and vulnerable. I also know I’m on the brink of something great. Here I go!