Signing off.

Happiest new year, everyone!  

I hope the transition from 2022 into 2023 has been one of reflection, gratitude and hope. I recognize some may have been counting down the days until they could rip the physical 2022 calendar off the wall and throw it in the past, never once glancing in the rearview mirror to see the wreckage left behind. Or maybe it’s the opposite and this past year was one of the best you’ve had the blessing of living. Perhaps you find yourself somewhere in-between.

As the clock started ticking closer to midnight on NYE I sat down for my annual tradition – one final journal entry. I knew it had been awhile since I put pen to paper, but I was surprised to see my last journal entry happened almost six months ago. If you know me, that’s a significantly longer than usual stretch of not sitting to capture my words. I spent two hours with my thoughts – the good, hard, raw, challenging, reflective, hopeful ones.

Words are my therapy. Stringing words together brings me joy. I love nothing more than picking up old journals and reading through them – seeing how much I have grown, how much life has changed, the valleys behind me, the memories so vivid they take me back to the very moment.

I have to be honest though– the last 20 months words for me have become so much about keeping people updated on my journey through cancer. I will always be thankful to have captured each blog post, along with posts on social media. But at some point, the words and the updates started to feel like a task I was doing for other people (please know there was a big part of me that loved writing every word). So I think I subconsciously slowly stepped away.

I say this in the most loving way possible, but having so many people love and care for you is both a blessing and a challenge when you are navigating something like cancer. If I would have had strength, time or capacity to keep everyone personally updated since April 2021 I would have; however, that simply was not realistic. So I did my best to find ways to broadly share what was going on. And you know what? It still wasn’t good enough and/or the perfect solution. I had friendships falter because some felt as though I didn’t do enough to personally keep them in the loop. I felt like because my only option was casting a wide net with my updates there were people with access to some of the most intimate details of my journey that didn’t feel worthy of being that closely in the know (no offense to the strangers who have found yourselves here, and I pray my words have somehow spoken to you even if I will never know who you are).

2023 is the first year in awhile I am stepping into that – God willing – I’ll not have active treatment for cancer (routine checks, blood draws, scans, etc. yes but nothing being cranked into my veins or being put under anesthesia for surgery). I could scream from the mountaintops with excitement, but also (and I do not expect most to understand this) I feel a little lost. Cancer has been my identity since April of 2021, and while it always will be a part of me this is the first turn of the calendar where I see deeper healing up ahead.

…and in order to fully step into that mental, emotional and further physical healing I need to step away from some other things that have occupied so much of my time.

Facebook. Instagram. This blog.

I need to sign off for a bit.

When will I pick up the pen/type again? I am not sure, though no doubt the day will come.

It’s hard for me to step away from these things. Stepping away from these things will no doubt leave me feeling distanced and disconnected. I will miss announcements. I will miss pictures of cute babies and kiddos. I will miss interactions. I will miss life updates. I will miss invites.

Yet my hope in signing off for a bit is it will actually allow me to get back to the heart of who I have always loved being most: the girl who sends you the random card or letter in the mail, has time to leave flowers on your porch, will reach out just because I am thinking of you, finds genuine joy is showing up for others.

Stepping away does not equate to not caring, it instead means taking time to become the person who can show up fully again.

I also hope this time away helps me live in and enjoy contentment instead of having it destroyed by comparison.

I want to step out of survive mode and find the sweet spot of thrive mode in 2023.

I am stepping into the new year with so, SO much excitement and hope! But I genuinely think re-discovering myself and re-finding deep joy is going to require time, space and solitude to allow my soul to become quiet enough to settle into what is most true of who I am.

As Emily Freeman says in her book A Millions Little Ways, “Grief {and trauma} does deep, important, sacred work. We have to pay attention to what grieves us and be willing to be fully human, both in what makes us come alive and in what has the capacity to shut us down. What breaks our hearts reminds us what is deeply important to us.”

It’s not always popular to pick yourself, and some may see it as selfish. But this year I am picking myself for the first time in awhile.

Whether you are a family member, dear friend who finds yourself here or someone I’ve never met who somehow found my blog, I hope you know I value having you on this journey. Thank you for encouraging me to keep writing, for the prayers, for the sweet messages — all of it. The last 20 months grew me in a way I did not know I was capable of, let alone handling with any semblance of grace. No doubt I did not navigate the last 20 months perfectly, but as I sign off I can promise you this: I did my very best.

With so much hope and gratitude,
Sarah

Ps. Please know I still hope to hear from you! Don’t hesitate to reach out 🙂