Learning to Live Log
Thoughts on Cancer Survivorship and Building a Life Beyond
Give Me Rainbows and Sunsets but Hold the Unicorn
Learning to live in survivorship is the stuff of rainbows and sunsets, but maybe not in the way that you think.  Don’t cue the wind chime music or prepare for visions of unicorns until you hear me out!  I am a romantic at heart, but...
I won’t take you down that road.  Well, at least not yet. 

Earlier this summer, the Caribbean and southeastern United States had sunsets with the most explosive hues of oranges, pinks, and yellows that made the standard fare look monochrome in comparison.  The colors were so vivid it was as if a kindergarten class of children, fueled by endless supplies of cookies, was let loose on the sky with finger-paints.  Sands from the Sahara Desert were to thank for the nightly shows, but let’s hold that thought for a moment and deal with the rainbow.
Rainbows are on my mind.  We live on a lake in North Georgia and numerous times throughout the summer we experience late afternoon rainstorms that often bring the sun out in the west before the dark clouds of the showers are finished passing over the lake in the east.  Almost without fail, a rainbow appears on the scene.  Dark and light, ingredients in a perfect recipe at work. 

I have soaked many pairs of socks running through the yard to get the best view, afraid to take even a second to fling them off out of fear the bow will disappear.  With my gaze fixed to the sky and rain splattering my face, I observe that the rainbow always is more vibrant if the thunder clouds are darker in the east.  There is a lesson here. Darkness matters as much as the light, as is the case for rainbows and learning to live .  Just like Sahara Desert dust is the ingredient for unforgettable sunsets, even with its annoying ability to clog tear ducts and coat throats.

If you missed the previous two logs, check them out by clicking on the links below or go to the log on my website.

July 11, 2019

June 27, 2019

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Learning to live in survivorship is developing the capacity to embrace the dark, painful times in our lives with the happy, celebratory moments because they make up the whole of who we are.  This is much like the dark storm clouds and rain blending with the sunshine to create a rainbow.  People who have been through difficult experiences like cancer or loss often wall off from the negative elements in an attempt to act like they don’t matter in the present.  I know that was true for me.  Little did I know that my refusal to “own” my cancer experiences as a part of my story was what fueled the depression and anxiety I experienced.  It was like trying to create a rainbow with no rain.

Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) forced me to find a way to connect the way I thought about things with how I was feeling and begin to rewrite what I was telling myself.  For example, I was so afraid that if I talked about having cancer, people would see me as undesirable to date or undertake a difficult project at work.  An incredible therapist paved the way for me to start rethinking my approach to survivorship, and slowly, I began to change.

Learning to live in survivorship is developing the capacity to embrace the dark, painful times in our lives with the happy, celebratory moments because they make up the whole of who we are.
On Saturday night, my mother leaned her head against my shoulder as we took in the light show of The Cascades - illuminated man-made waterfalls that tumble-down hills hundreds of feet long in Jackson, Michigan.  Color filled her eyes and mine, drenching us with its magical powers.  Music shaped the experience and beckoned children to run to the foot of the falls, throw off their shoes, and dance to tunes loved by their parents and grandparents.  The moment was the stuff of dreams.  I brushed at a tear or two that ran down my cheek as the famous song sung by Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz enchanted us. 

Somewhere over the rainbow
Way up high
And the dreams that you dream of
Once in a lullaby
 
For a moment, I almost believed Dorothy and looked down to see if I finally possessed the ruby slippers that have been a longing since childhood.  Disappointed yet again I stared at my red flip flops that were a poor stand-in.  How I wanted to believe for a moment that there was a world beyond the rainbow where troubles melt like lemon drops and blue birds fly as the song tells us.  Reality struck, of course, and I knew it was about as likely as the pot of gold at the rainbow’s end. 
 
As the music moved on and I watched my sister flailing her arms to the beat of Rascal Flatt’s “Life is a Highway,” I started thinking about the real world that is available to us if we learn to embrace the dark and the light of life.  Dorothy’s great and all, but she had it all wrong in the song.  If we are on the journey of learning to live in survivorship, we now know that the answers lie within the rainbow itself not going over , to the end , or way up high as the song and fables tell us! 

Instead of living out our days with wishes for far-away places to make everything perfect, what would result if we resolved ourselves to embrace equally the darkness that we have been through with the lighter, more joyful moments?  It is likely that we would learn to be more present in the moment instead of always wishing for the next achievement, thing, or adventure.  Perhaps we could learn to be more like the children at The Cascades with shoes flung off on a summer evening, dancing to the beat, and caring less about who was watching.  Living a beautiful life in survivorship doesn’t require anything but being fully present and owning our whole story.  No shoes required – not even ruby slippers.
Living a beautiful life in survivorship doesn't require anything but being fully present and owning our whole story.
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About the Learning to Live Log (LLL)
·       This Log is created and written by Rebecca Palpant Shimkets, a two-time cancer survivor with an over two-decade career in mental health specializing in media depictions of mental illnesses and building programs in the domestic U.S. and internationally. The LLL is a bi-weekly email for colleagues and friends and new readers that explores mental health and post-treatment cancer survivorship. Rebecca is writing a book on the topic and you can learn more at www.survivingthebook.com. Encourage colleagues and friends to subscribe and see previous Log posts by sharing this email, visiting www.survivingthebook.com or emailing palpantr@gmail.com .    Follow on social media by clicking the buttons at the bottom of this page.
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Copyright © 2019
Rebecca Palpant Shimkets.
All Rights Reserved.
To contact via email palpantr@gmail.com or connect via social media channels.