My regular readers (what a gift, to think I have some regular readers!) might have noticed that I have only been posting once a week of late, instead of twice. I seem to be experiencing a bit of writer’s block, not in the sense that I don’t have plenty of material (in Cancerland, there is never a shortage of material), but in the sense that I can’t seem to get myself to sit down and focus long enough to do the work.
I think it’s because I’m angry.
Anger is, of course, one of the five stages of grief (cf: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance). While I’ve certainly been grieving (my identity as a “healthy, active” person, my breasts, my mobility, my peace of mind), I don’t think I’ve spent seven months stuck in denial. Which makes me think those stages are rather like descriptions of the writing process (cf: planning, drafting, revising, editing, publishing)–neither grief nor writing ever follows a nice, neat linear narrative, even though we talk about both as if they did.
One of my friends recently noted that she liked the anger stage of grief because it was at least galvanizing for her. I feel, at present, more paralyzed. Overwhelmed. I’m angry that all the treatments make me feel worse than the disease ever has. I’m angry that I’m over half a year in, and I still have at least half a year to go. I’m angry that while I’m presumably cured, just in case I’m not really cured (sneaky little bastards, those cancer cells), I have to have 2 x-rays and 6 million photons of radiation shot into my body five days a week for five weeks. I’m angry that not one of seemingly hundreds of studies on creams, lotions, and gels have resulted in any definitive conclusions about what really does and doesn’t protect your skin from radiation, making the risk of long-term damage (for me=potential issues with reconstruction) ultimately an individual genetic crapshoot.
And then I feel guilty.
Because while it sucks to have cancer, I am getting excellent medical care. The chemo worked! I am healing! I can afford to hit my cancer yet one more time with radiation because I have the gifts of time and good insurance–not everyone does. My surgeons, doctors, nurses, and technicians are skilled, smart, supportive. My husband is amazing, and friends and family and even strangers encourage me everyday.
So I get that I’m lucky, and I’m profoundly grateful.
But I’m still angry.
Having been forcefully reminded just how precious and precarious is this life, I’m angry with how badly people treat one another these days. And I don’t just mean in comment threads on social media, though the vitriol online makes me shiver. From our highest government leaders to our neighbors down the street, it seems like we’ve abandoned empathy and simple acts of kindness almost everywhere. One recent example: Roanoke has a number of rather short C-shaped on/off ramps connected to the freeway that runs through town. Yesterday, driving between appointments, I moved over into the left lane at one such ramp to let two cars merge. I needed to gain access back into the right lane almost immediately, as my exit was coming up, so I put on my blinker, thinking the silver VW Bug I’d moved over for would likely return the favor. Instead, the driver accelerated to where he was just close enough that I couldn’t move over safely–and then stayed there, keeping pace, even after I tried accelerating myself to pull ahead of him. I had to brake and go around him from behind at the last second, or miss my exit. He smiled smugly as he passed me on the right.
Did the young man have something against middle-aged women? My plaid fuchsia hat? My “animal friendly” license plate? Was he just pissed because my blue Cube is way cuter than his Bug? Seriously: why the deliberate act of meanness?
It’s possible (though I think unlikely) he was simply oblivious, but even so: in this age of near-permament distraction, if we start using distractedness as a justifiable excuse for unkindness, we’re in deep, deep trouble.
Blowing my horn and flipping him off (oh, yes, she did) didn’t make me feel much better. There’s something else that I think will. But I need your help.
According to relationship researcher Dr. John Gottman, couples who share five positive interactions to every one negative interaction are much more likely to have happy, lasting relationships. I propose we apply a version of this formula to the world at large.
Now, I don’t know about you, but lately I’ve seen so many negative news reports alone that if I were to try to counter them five to one, I’d never be able to keep up. But how about two to one?
This is my Do Good to Feel Good challenge to you: counter negatives you experience (or create) with double the positives. Embrace the 2:1 Kindness Ratio.
If someone is a jerk to you in traffic, do two good deeds toward other drivers to offset it.
If someone insults you, pay two compliments or offer kind words to two people, as a kindness-counter-gesture.
If you read and share articles about scary and frustrating things happening in our government and world via social media (and I think we must, to stay aware and informed, even, or especially, when truths are hard; we must also vet all sources, and resist fake news!), then also make an effort to read and share a few stories of good news, too. (If nothing else, there’s always cute cat photos.)
Of course, the best way to curtail unkindness is to make sure you yourself aren’t initiating it. So be civil. Period. Pay attention to those around you, and practice choosing empathy first. Would the young man in the Bug have been nicer if he’d known I was heading to radiation treatment for cancer? I don’t know–but none of us should need a reason to be nice. Your mama, like mine, no doubt taught you that things like rudeness, name-calling, and stereotyping are ugly, and she was right. So stop it. And if you goof up, pick your two positive actions and make them happen.
Perhaps anger really does galvanize one to action. But anger is exhausting. So let’s all try to dig ourselves out of this karmic hole we’re in. Two to one in favor of kindness: is that a bargain, or what?
Still Life, Beyond Cancer 