When you’re in it
You can’t see your way out.
Some days the only thing that gets you through is thinking
All the days can’t be this bad.
They will get better.
But what happens when you reach the time when they won’t get better?
It does happen,
Eventually.
Each time you sink in the quicksand
You’re never sure if it’s the last time you’ll be able to get back up.
Pretend each time you will rise.
Just get through this spell.
Imagine it’s just another in a string of bad days
That will be followed by a good day,
Or two.
Or three.
That’s how you get through the days, weeks, months, years…
If you are lucky.
There is no option to me.
There is no alternative.
Up. Forward. Onward.
Even when it hurts.
On the outside.
On the inside.
Link to Twitter
This is a very sad, yet strangely empowering reflection. I hope you have many, many more good days ahead. xo
This one brought tears to my eyes. I think of my mother and her battle with ovarian cancer. You have such an amazing ability to speak from the heart and convey what you are going through.
so many times – i end up not replying cause i just cant come up with the right, comforting thing to say … not an excuse. your words are read and appreciated and i pray for your and your family’s peace.
So sad Lisa. Holding you in my heart.
You are such an elegant reflection of life, Lisa. Thank you for sharing your life with us – it is beautiful and raw and it makes me remember to cherish my own. Praying for a new set of good days.
Your words so often reflect exactly what I’m feeling. Thank you for being so honest and open with what you are feeling and going through.
I am in awe.
When reality is faced square on, as it seems you choose to do, it must press on the heart and mind and feel, at times, like the heart is breaking. I hope you’re home from your travels and appointments and can rest and restore. That you can gather all the love and support that is around you and that it helps you to continue to move forward into your life. And with every step, you leave the most beautiful flower for us. That is how I see you move.
Kim
Lisa, as always, I marvel at your eloquence and honesty, and I feel like any response I can write is woefully inadequate. I admire you and have learned so much from your writing about how to be a better person. I am so glad to know you, even virtually. I pray for your continued comfort and peace, and more time to create special memories with your family.
Beautiful piece, and a beautiful picture. I think of you often, though I am one of the “silent” readers. Always know that all our hope is aimed your way. We love you Lisa!
This poem perfectly describes what I am experiencing. Actually, everything you write is precisely how I feel mi am grateful my daughter introduced me to you. Thanks, Amanda!
Lisa,
This is raw and honest, and so, is beautiful and heartbreaking.
When my partner was diagnosed, her first and greatest impulse was to get out, into nature. Because we know there is no cure, our goal was to buy her more time. Now that she is finished with surgery and chemo, she spends as much time as possible walking in the Redwoods or on the beaches along the northern California coast. Some of the Redwood trees in Armstrong Woods are thirteen hundred years old. She says it calms her to walk among them or to be near the vast ocean, and it reminds her all that is required of her is to simply be, to live honestly and authentically. Since she made this discovery, time has been stretching. Our days are longer, actually longer. No matter how much time she has left on this earth, accepting her place in nature has given her more.
[…] This post isn’t precisely about self-care, but Lisa Boncheck Adams has such a powerful way with words that I wanted to share. I can imagine that many readers may be able to identify with her description of “quicksand.” […]
In our hearts we are all holding hands with you.
xo
Great writing, Lisa. I never respond to poetry that’s over-intellectualized, esoteric, and this result seems to be the point of the writing. Such poems merely seem wooden to me, and I feel nothing from having read them. Many times, I don’t even glean what the point might be (my own limitation, I’m sure, hahaha). This piece is direct and clear and full of smart content. Really nice. I’m feelin’ you for sure!
Hi Lisa, I randomly stumbled across your blog three days ago, in this time I started from the beginning up until now! It’s blown me away and scary similar to my situation!
I was only 26 when diagnosed with a very, very rare, aggressive form of cancer – Ewings/Undifferentiated Soft Tissue Sarcoma! No symptoms bar extreme neutropathic pain down my left leg, which was also going dumb and tingly – this is purely due to my tumor (which was fully throughout my whole pelvic region) growing into my left sciatic nerve! Horrendous!
At that time (Dec 2008 i was officially diagnosed – I was in hospital, flown to three different hospitals in an 10 week period before finally getting a diagnosis and treatment plan! Nightmare!) I had been married since 2003, and had 2 young children, boys, aged 2 and 4yrs! I was given Six Months to live!
Unable to operate (the only way to get a curative outcome with this Sarcoma is to operate) so my Oncologists decided, because I am young and healthy – up until then! – they were going to attack me with the most aggressive, high dose Chemo possible for 12mths, along with adjuvant Radiation therapy – maximum possible without causing cancer! It was hell! So much of your blog resonated with me. Chemo slammed me – the only things that kept me going were my children!
I also loved your posts regarding how open and honest you were with your children – we also kept open and honest dialogue with our boys – yes they were so little, but my elder still had questions, and could see and feel things weren’t right! Family members told me that I was telling them too much – but they needed to know, in language they could understand – and I am so glad we did that because, as the boys got older, they asked questions – they felt and knew they could come to us for anything, and ask anything! Cancer was not a ‘taboo’ word in our household, it’s an unfortunate reality!! Thank you for confirming that what we did what right!
As you can tell, I lived passed my Six Months – mainly on a prayer, lick and a promise! It’s a pure miracle! Miracle and I thank God everyday for this! But, it WILL return, and it WILL return even more aggressive! It’s extremely hard to live every day knowing that this is going to return, and then what will happen? Do I wish to go ahead with a low dose Chemo – even though the first Chemo destroyed my soul? That’s a hard choice!
Like you, I get sick and tired of people saying “stay positive” or “you should be grateful, why are you moaning your tired” or “we are all going to die, I could walk out the door and get hit by a bus this morning!” or “your going to live, don’t worry!” – i have grown to hate these! People just don’t understand! I am so grateful, however, my life is not how it was! I can barely walk due to the tumor in my left leg! My left leg is totally numb and has NO strength! I used to play lots of sports, run, dance, walk every night – play with the kids, swim, cricket at the beach, jump up and down – and I was/am a Nurse! My cancer has changed ALL of this! I physically can’t do ANY of that anymore! So, not only have I had to fight for my life, I now have lost who I was, what made me, me! I can’t even work as a Nurse anymore, which I love! Chemo saw to this – i still get extremely fatigued and crash for weeks at a time! Chemo also has meant I’m in menopause – at 26! I’m now 30! That is depressing! No more children – a blessing I have my two!
So, I’m trying to figure out who I am living with cancer – how to live like this, who am I in this new reality!? It’s hard, and i have bad, bad days! I am grateful everyday to have this time to be with my children, my husband – they are my everything!
Lisa – you are an inspiration to me, I completely understand your situation, your feelings and thank you for making me feel not so alone anymore!
Love, Sarah from New Zealand!!
Hi Lisa, I randomly stumbled across your blog three days ago, in this time I started from the beginning up until now! It’s blown me away and scary similar to my situation!
I was only 26 when diagnosed with a very, very rare, aggressive form of cancer – Ewings/Undifferentiated Soft Tissue Sarcoma! No symptoms bar extreme neutropathic pain down my left leg, which was also going dumb and tingly – this is purely due to my tumor (which was fully throughout my whole pelvic region) growing into my left sciatic nerve! Horrendous!
At that time (Dec 2008 i was officially diagnosed – I was in hospital, flown to three different hospitals in an 10 week period before finally getting a diagnosis and treatment plan! Nightmare!) I had been married since 2003, and had 2 young children, boys, aged 2 and 4yrs! I was given Six Months to live!
Unable to operate (the only way to get a curative outcome with this Sarcoma is to operate) so my Oncologists decided, because I am young and healthy – up until then! – they were going to attack me with the most aggressive, high dose Chemo possible for 12mths, along with adjuvant Radiation therapy – maximum possible without causing cancer! It was hell! So much of your blog resonated with me. Chemo slammed me – the only things that kept me going were my children!
I also loved your posts regarding how open and honest you were with your children – we also kept open and honest dialogue with our boys – yes they were so little, but my elder still had questions, and could see and feel things weren’t right! Family members told me that I was telling them too much – but they needed to know, in language they could understand – and I am so glad we did that because, as the boys got older, they asked questions – they felt and knew they could come to us for anything, and ask anything! Cancer was not a ‘taboo’ word in our household, it’s an unfortunate reality!! Thank you for confirming that what we did what right!
As you can tell, I lived passed my Six Months – mainly on a prayer, lick and a promise! It’s a pure miracle! Miracle and I thank God everyday for this! But, it WILL return, and it WILL return even more aggressive! It’s extremely hard to live every day knowing that this is going to return, and then what will happen? Do I wish to go ahead with a low dose Chemo – even though the first Chemo destroyed my soul? That’s a hard choice!
Like you, I get sick and tired of people saying “stay positive” or “you should be grateful, why are you moaning your tired” or “we are all going to die, I could walk out the door and get hit by a bus this morning!” or “your going to live, don’t worry!” – i have grown to hate these! People just don’t understand! I am so grateful, however, my life is not how it was! I can barely walk due to the tumor in my left leg! My left leg is totally numb and has NO strength! I used to play lots of sports, run, dance, walk every night – play with the kids, swim, cricket at the beach, jump up and down – and I was/am a Nurse! My cancer has changed ALL of this! I physically can’t do ANY of that anymore! So, not only have I had to fight for my life, I now have lost who I was, what made me, me! I can’t even work as a Nurse anymore, which I love! Chemo saw to this – i still get extremely fatigued and crash for weeks at a time! Chemo also has meant I’m in menopause – at 26! I’m now 30! That is depressing! No more children – a blessing I have my two!
So, I’m trying to figure out who I am living with cancer – how to live like this, who am I in this new reality!? It’s hard, and i have bad, bad days! I am grateful everyday to have this time to be with my children, my husband – they are my everything!
Lisa – you are an inspiration to me, I completely understand your situation, your feelings and thank you for making me feel not so alone anymore!
Love, Sarah from New Zealand!!
– not sure if this comment is going through!!?
What an incredibly powerful statement. Thank you. Hoping that you find light and laughter in your forward and onward.
Oh, Lisa, thank you for this poem. I needed it right now. It has given me strength. Thank you so much for your lovely words.