Last week while I was out hiking I listened to a podcast on The Moth by an Australian comedic actress, Magda Szubanski. It’s called Reclaiming Fear. She speaks of vulnerability, shame, fear, forgiveness, and her father who happened to be a Polish assassin. I am not going to retell her story and destroy the beauty of the words she put together so eloquently, but you can listen to it at The Moth.

One of the reasons I love stories so much is that someone else’s experience can be nothing like my own, yet I can relate to it on every level. That’s what happened to me as I was hiking up a very crowded mountain while sobbing through her story. 

Magda had turned off her fear at the age of nine and refused to let it be part of her story going forward. Decades later in one terrifying moment when she least expected, she brought out all the bravery and vulnerability she could muster, and she was able to release all that buried terror in a fantastic way! Later she was also able to forgive herself for feeling fear, and to claim it as part of being human. 

Because of her story I was able to reach the peak of that mountain as I felt a rush of fearlessness surge through me. 

I also love stories because they make us all vulnerable. If you think telling our stories is easy you could not be more wrong. I feel a sense of fear and vulnerability every time I hit the publish key. I am sure someone who knew me “when” will have seen or experienced that event differently or someone will call me out for some part of it being attention-seeking or false. But we all experience and interpret things from where we are, and we are clearly all somewhere different than the person sitting next to us. 

I’ve been told I’m an inspiration (for reasons I don’t quite understand), but I simply see myself as someone who is willing to be vulnerable, tell the truth the way I see it, and share that with anyone who wants to take the time to read it. Hopefully my experience may help someone else.  

What I have been talking about this past year is living with a terminal cancer diagnosis. I have told you how the gift of cancer has transformed my life and made me learn to love every beautiful and terrible minute. I’ve asked you to join me in finding gratitude and joy and also to love each other. I’ve seen many surpassing me on their own joy bus and finding new purpose and meaning while living their best lives. I am so thrilled to watch their transformation.

Much like Magda’s story something unexpected happened this month that took me by surprise. 

September came in like a lion. It marks one year since my diagnosis, and anxiety and fear settled in.

FEAR with all caps! BIG FEAR!

Fear of the unknown? The story I’ve been told about me expiration date? I’m not sure. I didn’t plan for this.

September is chewing me up, spitting me out, and leaving pieces of me scattered around to be stomped upon. If you have talked to me you may have heard the panic or manic in my voice, or perhaps the disinterest, or frustration, anger, lack of focus, or my inability to hear you because the voice in my head is so damn loud and I can’t turn it down. 

I meditate for two hours a day. I rest, I hike, and I try to sleep. I plan, I dream, I carry on with what has to be done, I fake happiness and chill, yet still I am not okay. 

This is not normal. Or maybe it is.

Yes, definitely it is!

I passed over real fear for an entire year, and during September, the month that is the one-year anniversary  – Newsflash! — you are going to die now. At least that’s the story I’ve been told and made the mistake of believing.

But I haven’t fulfilled all my dreams, checked everything off my bucket list, visited enough places, seen eagles fly, hiked enough mountains, walked through enough forests, planted enough flowers, forgiven everyone, let go of everything, and the list goes on. 

Here I am in between the what-ifs and the if-onlys, nearing the one-year anniversary of that dreaded mountain rescue, surgery, diagnosis, chemo and radiation, and I suddenly find myself sinking in my own fear. Once I was able to identify what was going on in my head, I was able to begin to sort through it, and I am able to forgive myself for feeling fear. There are just some emotions we can’t pass over, and I’m giving myself permission to feel them all. Grief surprises me every day with what it has to offer.

Feel all the feels. Live your best life. Set yourself free.