Why isn't normal life really a thing

I went too long without writing. Or talking? Or praying? I went too long without something, and now there's too much noise in my head, too many thoughts rolling around. Like when you walk into a crowded bar, there's music blaring, all sorts of people talking over each other, you hear everything they're saying yet can't decipher anything they're saying because it's all too damn loud. So you just kind of stand there, having no clue what's being said but nodding along like you're in total agreement with whatever the hell it is they're saying. That's my brain on too many thoughts. 

Throughout this whole process everyone, including survivors, tells you that you find a new normal. During chemo, you find a rhythm, you find a normal. After surgery, you find a normal. During radiation, you find a normal. After all of it, you find a normal. To that, I'm going to have to call BS. Post cancer normal really isn't a thing. Normal during any phase of cancer isn't really a thing. I think that's a thing we say, or hope, so we don't lose our minds because how do you really accept that your new normal, is that there's no normal? How do you really begin to comprehend that yup, sorry, you're not really going to be able to predict how your body is going to change, feel, look, and that everything that was once normal will now scare the crap out of you? Trying to understand that, my brain just looks at me and laughs, "Yeah, I don't know what you want me to do with all of that..." as it waves a finger at the mess of the situation, "but I'm not touching that. I can't even with you right now..."

Daily, my brain taunts me with this partial understanding/mockery tone I've begun to hate. All day long it's just endless yapping... Got a headache? It's brain cancer. Because you've had that headache for three days. Joints hurt? The cancer probably spread to your bones. Toenails hurt and starting to fall off? It's probably still from the chemo. Probably. Maybe. Oh man I feel bloated today. Probably too many carbs. Or you've got ovarian cancer now, congrats, you're going to die just like your mom. Your life now, sucks. Be miserable. You'll never have, normal. Never look, normal. You don't deserve, normal. Oh, the things my brain says to me...

How do you begin to tell what pain or ailment is simply your new normal vs holy crap you should call your doctor? It's this constant give and take, pushing and pulling of comprehension, acceptance, worry, and a come at me bro frustration based aggression. Simply put, this "new normal" everyone speaks of is a load of crap. Just be real and tell me that the new normal is that normal is gone. Bye bye, see ya later Sally. Normal? Sorry lady, the new normal is that your body and brain can't be trusted. 

Now, having said all that you're probably sitting there thinking "Whoa, this chick is really in a negative space right now." Doomsday Debbie at it again, running a muck in Darian's brain.  But it's in all of that gray area, that haze, that sifting through the darkness, that too much junk stuck in my brain, that I actually figured it out. Or, am starting to figure it out at least. Sort of. I mean I'm about to be 40, it's about damn time I figured out how to learn, right?

I was feeling frustrated for a while, it felt like every time I started to have a sense of normal and got used to things - it changed. Made it through chemo, time for surgery and a whole new normal. Start to get used to post-surgery life and body, ope, time for radiation. Get used that whole mess, time to go back to work the next day and "go back to normal life" Lol, yeah, okay, normal life... Start to get used to that, hey now don't get too comfy because surprise, you need to have a hysterectomy. Like, this month. Umm, okay, I'm done playing now, thanks. I was frustrated. I didn't want to play this game anymore. I didn't want to keep searching for this new normal, only to just have that up and changed on me anyway. Normal isn't really a thing. I craved something I just couldn't grab.

I kept grasping for understanding, for routine, for control. I was just out there in the darkness, swinging my fists hoping they connected with something. Anything. True to form, I was doing this life thing all wrong. As I was desperately searching for control, for this "normal" I stopped and asked myself, why? Why was I trying to grab the steering wheel again? Why did I think that what I wanted to happen was really worth consideration? Why does what I want matter at all? Why is what I'm searching for...all...about...me...?

And there it is, that gentle blow to the gut when you've realized that you've tried to make something all about you again, when none of it is about you. Stop complaining, Karen, it's not about you. Through this whole thing I've asked God for two things - to get me through this, and to have his will and work be done through it. While I may not understand or see all of the latter, I trust that he's hard at work. So, he's done both of those things. He's given me what I requested. And yet here I am, complaining that he didn't do it good enough, or exactly how I wanted. Through the toughest parts of the journey, I praised him while he carried me through...and now here I sit, judging him? 

Why would I do that? Because, life has gotten back to normal. You see, the second things start to get back to your normal, even if you don't realize it, so quickly we got lost in the superficial, lost in the life that doesn't really matter, we get lost in the every day hustle and bustle. Beg God for help to get through something, then hardly even bother with saying thank you before you're off and running in regular life. Because you got stuff to do. I'm seriously rolling my eyes at myself now. People always ask, why does God allow struggles? Why does he allow bad things? When was the last time you see a lot people reaching out or seeking God when things are going along all peachy keen? Anyway, I'm thinking that I like that there isn't a normal for me now. Because the second I let myself slip into normal, I forget the one who got me here. I forget to do what I'm really called to do, which is show people God's love. I forget, the most important stuff. I forget about God. Because in the midst of normal, ain't nobody got time for that.

That's not how I want to be. So in my heart, I write an apology letter to God. For forgetting him. For just trying to dive right into normal life and in a blink, forgetting everything I had learned so far. Forgetting what I'm called to do. All of this, this cancer, this journey, none of it was about me, my wants, my needs, and it wasn't supposed to be. It was about using it as an opportunity to show people, God. And as God brings me out of the storm, I forget him? I move on because I gotta run to Meijer, sorry, no time for some praying today, God. Really, Darian? Really? So in my apology letter, written on my heart, I say sorry for not being as good of a daughter as he is a father. Those times in life when I felt like my family or kids were ungrateful...and then I'm over here, doing exactly that. 

There is no normal, and I'm thinking now, that that's exactly how God wants it to be for me. That's how it's supposed to be. Because that's when I remember to love him, like he always loves me. That's when I remember to show others his love. That's when I remember, what it's all about. And it's not about me, or my happiness. It's about when I get to heaven one day, I've helped to bring as many with me as I can. And I can't be faithful to that mission when I'm letting myself get lost in a world of normal. I don't have a normal anymore, and I hope it stays that way.