The truth is...

I've had a heavy heart for most of this year. I'm very thankful for the moments that I don't feel it. When my beautiful, talented, loved by all, amazing mother gets diagnosed with a stage 4 brain cancer almost out of nowhere, it's really hard to feel anything but blindsided.

I've had any variation of the following phrases said to me over the past 7 months:

"She's the only one strong enough to handle something like that, she'll come out on top."
"She needs to do A and B and she will beat it, chemo and radiation aren't really the only option." (Oh really? Tell me more about how you beat brain cancer by eating citrus...)
"Just have MORE faith and God will heal her."
"I don't know how you guys handle that, I never would be able to." (I used to say this to myself before all this too.)
"I'm really sorry, just keep your chin up, all will be well."
"That is really hard, I'm really sorry."

I think my favorite one is the last one. Because the truth is, this really, really, REALLY sucks. I've never seen my mom in so much pain. I've never seen my stepdad have so much heartache. I've never seen my siblings or myself have to wonder if cancer will win. I've never had to question all of my faith and wonder if the pit in my stomach will ever leave. I've never had to reassure so many people that know my mom that she will be ok, when I have no idea myself. She is loved by so many people in so many places.

The other truths I am learning from this are:

The world doesn't stop turning when someone is given practically a death sentence.
Miracles can and do happen. 
Miracles won't always happen to you when you need them.
People will sometimes forget that you're walking around carrying an invisible bag of bricks and that at anytime you might fall down from the heavy load.
Someone always has it worse than you do. To those people, I say, "I'm very sorry you have to endure what you are."

I never thought cancer would strike our family the sudden way it has. I never thought we'd be called on to endure such anxiety and for my mom to be so miserable. But here we are. 

My friend Katie, the ever amazing therapist-without-a-therapy-degree, was talking to me the other day. I was telling her of some recent declines in my mom's health, and she said simply (but perfectly), "Wow, what are you going to do?"

I thought for a minute and said, "I guess my only option is to continue on with life. Because I could lay down and be depressed and give up and die, but I'm really healthy and that would be a long, tedious, boring process."

That's a truth of it though. I could let hardship take me down and destroy me, or I could live the rest of my life with my incredibly hilarious husband, our ever-cuddly orange tabby, and whoever else blesses our lives with their presence. I will just have to power through the hardships.

The final truth is, the only thing we can do is persevere. Life will break us down to the very lowest it can, but if we remain when we want to give up, we will eventually see we can do the things we thought we couldn't. It's ok to admit our burden is at times more than we have the strength to carry. That time will come to each of us, that is why we have relationships at all in this life. We are each others' helpmates.