Why Not Me?

Why would a loving God create a world full of pain? I first found myself asking this question in 2014 when my cousin and my little sister’s best friend (who was basically my second little sister) both passed away from cancer within a 24-hour period. Both had been diagnosed less that one year prior, and both seemed at peace with their fate. I struggled, through. It didn’t seem fair.

Three months later, I would develop a serious lung infection that left me bed-bound with a uncontrollable fever, rattling cough, and immense muscle weakness. Over the course of a month, my feverish body dropped into severely underweight territory and several rounds of antibiotics didn’t make a dent. Eventually, I was diagnosed with a fungal lung infection and was told my body should recover on it’s own.

It’s been eight year now. While there have been bright spots and good days, my body has not recovered on it’s own.

The proximity of my illness to untimely deaths led to me continually minimize my experience. A fellow blogger, Wynne, recently wrote about comparative suffering and it resonated because I continually find myself comparing my moderate-to-severe symptoms to the sufferings of those individuals facing the end of their lives. What right do I have to complain?

A friend recently shared with me a short clip from spoken word poet, Andrea Gibson, where she asks, “why to terrible things happen to good people?” As she navigates cancer and treatment, she’s facing the difficult questions. But also an answer. To paraphrase Eckhart Tolle, “Life is difficult. But it stops being so difficult when we expect it’s going to be difficult.” The answer: acceptance.

After several years of denial and battling my body, I final gave in. I accepted that life would be difficult for me, at least for a season. I shifted my focus from considering how I can suffer less to how I can suffer better. I continually consider what lesson the current moment is trying to teach me. I’m constantly flipping the storm clouds inside out in search of the silver lining.

“What would it be like if I could accept life–accept this moment–exactly as it is?”

Tara Brach, Radical Acceptance: Embracing Your Life With the Heart of a Buddha

What would my life look like if I were to accept every moment as if I had chosen it–as if I hand-picked this life and this lesson? I am learning to be grateful for what is good in my life, and letting go of the rest. Acceptance. Non-attachment. Observing what happens and meeting the experience in the way that I choose. Expanding my capacity to see beauty, feel joy, and experience love.

Why did this happen to me? Why has my bio-mechanical shell failed me?

Lately, I’ve instead been asking myself: why not?

The last eight years have shown me that I am capable of anything. I can survive ridicule, betrayal, lost relationships, and diminished abilities. I can be stripped of everything that once gave me a sense of pride, and I can still stand tall and proud for who I am independent of my accomplishments.

While this isn’t the path I would have knowingly chosen for myself, I wouldn’t go back in time and trade it for normalcy. Would I have achieved this exponential growth of humility, empathy, and understanding had I taken a left at the fork instead? I don’t think so. Would I have tamed my inner-perfectionist and learned to prioritize my well-being over external productivity? Probably not.

In some ways, I’m better for it. In some ways, suffering has been a gift. An armored Trojan horse filled with party balloons and a chorus of “surprise!” Or something like that.

Why not me?

I have survived, and I am capable of continuing to do so. And when I finally emerge from this forest of tangled thorns, maybe I will be better-equipped to light the way for others.

When I look back on my cousin and little-sister-by-extension, I often wonder how they were able to move so quickly through the stages of grief. Knowing their time was short, how did they come to terms with what surely lay ahead? How did they release their dreams for the future and learn to live so acutely in the now, despite the tubes, phantom limbs, and persistent nausea?

I think they knew that, as young people leaving their loved ones too soon, they had to accept their fate in order to give their parents, sibling, friends, and relatives permission to do the same. How I can suffer better? How can I be an example for others?

After a brief glimpse at wellness, I’ve found my body dslowly backsliding into the unspeakable place where I once resided. Cliffside. Quicksand. Undertoe. Frankly, I am terrified. And, yet, I have collected and curate a set of tools and tactics and mantras over years. Joy has been my lifeboat through life’s rapids. Whatever the future holds, I’m ready for it.

I long ago accepted that I may never regain my health, so the recent good days and any yet to come are a bonus in my book.

So, why not me?