One Year

 Tomorrow is one year. One whole year since they discovered an almost 18 cm mass in my abdomen. The very start of my journey. April Fools Day. A sick cosmic joke to myself, I thought. This can't be real. What they're saying is impossible. Right?

 

It's crazy to think a whole year has now passed. It seems so long ago and yet, like yesterday. The day is so vivid in my memory. A fear like I've never experienced ever before. Like you've fallen from a tree branch onto your back and all the air in your chest gets knocked out of you. A cold sweat and nausea kick in instantaneously as if you've just seen something horrific.

 

Looking back to that day, I can literally feel those emotions again and see the look on the doctor's face as she told me the results and then showed me on a tape measure just how big this thing was. (And little did I know yet, that that mass was only HALF of it) Bertha.

 

Have I ever said WHY I call it that? If not, it's because I imagine the tumor as a bully. A big fat bully, stomping around my playground looking to fuck shit up. Bertha seemed like a fitting name for a disgusting bully like that. I picture a big greasy, frizzy-haired beast of a girl with jagged teeth, clothes that are filthy and too small with shoes that won't lace-up right over swollen feet. A growly, maniacal laugh and yellow fingernails filed like claws.

 

If I'm being completely honest, I can't believe I'm here. That I'm alive. At that moment, I thought I was going to die. I thought death was imminent. I was hyperventilating. Crying. Panicking. Trying to pull my shit together because I thought I was making the doctor uncomfortable.

 

My hands literally shook as I walked to my car to drive home. I called my mom and my husband and all I kept saying was "it's not good, it's not good" through tears and trying to breathe. It felt like the air just wouldn't come to my lungs. Truthfully, I don't know how I made it home.

 

Every part of my being was buzzing, my body vibrated with sheer terror. I didn't know how to process what they had just told me. How could it be possible to have something so big inside you, stealing you, taking over you, and not know it? How could I just 6 months earlier have an ultrasound, and minor abdominal surgery, and not have found it then? What is this thing? What do I tell my family, my friends, my kids?

 

Now, I sit here, reflecting on that day and the journey I've been through since then. I didn't know it then but it was about to get a whole lot worse. So many trials. I've literally been pushed to my breaking point, hit complete rock bottom, seen hell, felt hell, and yet, here I am. Sitting here with more gratitude and love than I've ever thought possible. I not only clawed my way out of the darkness but I've found a whole new version of myself that I would have never found without Bertha.

 

I remember many times during my journey thinking, "figures." What I mean by that is that I haven't had an easy life. I haven't had the worst life either but it definitely has not been an easy one for sure so in my head it was like, "figures this would happen to me, I'm a beacon of back luck, I'm apparently meant to suffer until I die." Now, I think, "figures. - Figures it took darkness for me to find my light."

 

There's a new found respect in my eyes, a new love in my heart, a new appreciation in my soul. All of which I would never have found without Bertha. In a way, I'm lucky. I wish I could fully explain how I feel inside and how I now view the world around me. I know not everyone gets to experience this. They're lost in life, still searching for themselves. I was lucky enough to find myself. It took a lot of hard work, and I'm still not where I think I could be with more effort, but I really did a lot of self-reflection and came out a better person for it.

 

I was trying to explain it to my husband last night how I felt, and how I got to feel the way I do now. Because even he notices the changes, especially with my anxiety. I told him at some point I just ignored everything the world/society has told me was wrong… like crying, the way I look, the way I think and speak, what I do… and threw it out the window… The world tells you " crying is for babies, you should be a size two/fit/no stretch marks to be beautiful, you should think this and not that, you shouldn't question the world or say certain things, you should keep your emotions to yourself."

 

One day I just said, "fuck it." Then I allowed myself to feel every ounce of pain, I allowed myself to take every insult, criticism, and insecurity I ever had and FELT them. Instead of trying to bury it down deep and ignore it like I had my whole life. I decided to fully feel it all, cry it all out until there was nothing left in me. After that, it was like a light bulb went off in my head and I was able to see things a bit clearer.

 

I was given tear ducts to cry. I was given a heart to care. I was given a mouth to speak. I was given a mind to question. I was given a body to love. So, that's what I was going to do. In the end, it's not me who has a "problem" with me, it's society… and that's their problem, not mine. I don't need the world to love me. I need to love me.

 

Over time, I realized that's what this journey has really been about. Self-love. Real self-love. Throw away all the crap the world tells you. Do away with the negativity in your life. The negative people in your life. If they don't encourage you to be the best version of yourself, then they're not for you.

 

So, though it's been the hardest path I've ever walked, I'm grateful for it. It seems surreal looking back at what I've done. Not just the physical things I had to overcome but the personal growth during it all. In my mind, that's far more impressive than all the physical trials I've been through this year. I never thought I could feel this way.

 

I guess in reality I should thank Bertha for waking me up. Without her, I'd still be asleep. Living every day the same. Just the daily grind, the same old routines, and thinking there was nothing more to life than that. There's so much more. What do you think is the meaning to life? I think it's to help one another. If you're not out there helping yourself be a better person and you're not out there to project positivity and help your fellow man-kind, then you're missing out. I truly don't think God put us here to simply work 9-5 and procreate. What's the point in that? An endless cycle of nothing?

 

No, he put us here to help one another achieve greatness. To learn lessons. To make and be at peace.

 

I really am lucky. Thank you, Bertha, for reminding me that I (and everyone else) have a purpose and what that purpose is. Thank you for bringing me full circle.

 

Cheers to one year!