The Stones
“There will always be rocks in the road ahead of us. They will be stumbling blocks or stepping stones; it all depends on how you use them.”
Image Credit @magict1911
Water has always frightened me, probably because I grew up in land-locked Oklahoma with few opportunities to become comfortable swimming or water skiing. In the water, I felt out of my element and scared. It was okay to be “around water,” playing in the lawn sprinkler, or splashing in a shallow pool, but being “in the water,” in the deep end of a pool or a lake or ocean, well, that was a panic attack waiting to happen.
I’ve been told that when I was two or three years old, I jumped into the deep end of a campground swimming pool in Arkansas. My dad jumped in the pool – with his shoes still on – to rescue me. I don’t remember it, but I’ve wondered if that contributed to my fear and discomfort. I remember the summer my parents took my sister and me to the town 14 miles down the road for swimming lessons, as our small town didn’t have a pool. I didn’t learn to swim. Maybe I was too scared.
Years later, I took my son canoeing on the Illinois River to celebrate his high school graduation. The river was swollen from recent rains, and the current was swift. My canoe tipped when rounding a bend in the river, and I fell into the water. The rapid current would have swept me quickly downstream, but I grabbed a low-hanging branch and held on until I could be rescued. (I just remembered that experience.) What saved me was the life jacket, my husband, and my ability to remain calm.
There are many parallels here. Past experiences – both conscious and unconscious – can impact how we manage any difficult situation, including a cancer diagnosis. Is it possible to be so scared that one becomes immobilized and unable to learn or function? It can happen. I’ve facilitated numerous stress management and coping classes and have heard more than one patient say, “I would come, but I’m too stressed to attend.” Fear of getting a cancer diagnosis, learning the prognosis, or worrying about recurrence can deter someone from learning new ways to function, participating in fun activities, or living meaningfully and purposefully.
I see the stones in the stream in the photo and wonder, “Would they support me or give way? Could I overcome my fear of rushing water? Could I learn to be focused and calm when crossing the stream? Could I trust them to get me to safety?”
The stones could be stumbling blocks, like any difficult circumstance or cancer diagnosis. They could be my undoing. I could fall into the water and drown in anxiety and fear, or at the very least, be overwhelmed and immobilized – frozen – unable to function.
But what if I saw the stones as stepping stones leading to a path forward? Can I trust them to get me to safety? (My medical team); Will the stones support me? (Family and peer support); Can I trust myself to be focused and calm? (New coping skills).
I can choose to cross the stream – or not. But if I do, I will plan my route, acknowledge my fear, and use the stones to get to a better place. I can choose to get in the canoe – or not. But if I do, I know to take my life jacket, to have a trusted companion, to hold on tight, and not give up when it gets scary.
There will always be rocks in the road ahead of us.
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