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When Hope Breaks Through

I’ve been back on my own for almost three weeks.  My strength is gradually returning, but it still has a long way to go.  It’s good to be in my own home, around my own things again.  I’ve found it hard to get started writing again.  It’s been hard to focus.  My brain feels as heavy and lethargic as my arms and legs do.

Maybe it’s a post-cancer depression.  I’ve found it hard to take pleasure in things I like to do.  After several days of cold (what happened to spring?), cloudy days, my mood has come to match the weather.  It doesn’t quite feel like I’ve beat the cancer yet.  The past few days have been especially low and I’ve slept more than I needed to.  I went to bed last night resigned to the possibility that this dissatisfaction with life might last quite a while.

But, when I woke up this morning, a positive attitude and dare I say it—happiness—was trying to sprout through the cracks in the depression, just like weeds in a sidewalk.  There it was, just under the surface.  I almost didn’t recognize it.  The dark mood that has dominated my thoughts for so long wanted to stomp on it, but I didn’t let that happen.  This, I knew, could be the cure I needed.  It could stop me from thinking I can’t do anything anymore.  And here I am, writing again, and feeling like I can do more than just sit and stare at the TV.  This is the first glimmer of hope that I am returning to my former self, or at least to a life I recognize.

What a gift this morning was.  I’ll make sure to remember how it felt to wake up in a much better mood than when I went to sleep.  I want to wake up every day feeling like that.  One way to help make sure of that is to shelter and nurture this sprout of newfound happiness and protect it from a late spring frost.

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