Survivor…The Process of Surviving From Another Person’s Point Of View

being a survivor

The process of surviving from another person’s point of view.  So many points of view swimming around in my mind, conjured from glances and phrases both real and imagined.  These points of view are so loud and so useless, sometimes running my thoughts in circles.

I come from a line of farmers who worked themselves into the dirt, day after day.  They survived off each other and off of the land.  My mother lived a similar life of constant tasks and chores, never resting.  I do not know where I fit in this sea of dirt and movement.  Sometimes I feel stuck in the everyday tasks of developing a routine, even leaving the house.

And these other points of view, they yell and point fingers from inside my own head.  They call names, shout words, and lend the shoulds to that word “survivor.”

Each should circles and bubbles and mutates into a point of view of its own, as the day goes on, and the shadows lengthen.

“Listen to the mustn’ts child, Listen to the don’ts.  Listen to the shouldn’ts, the impossibles, the won’ts.  Listen to the never haves, then listen close to me.  Anything can happen child, anything can be.” – Shel Silverstein

My 17 year old self knew how to make it happen.  How to be afraid of failure but do it all anyway.  She knew to tape that poem on the ceiling right above her head.  She knew how to jump into the cold water of the deep end, day after day, and chase the things that she wanted, finding freedom from those shoulds in the struggle.

The shoulds of surviving, the shoulds of being here and alive and well.  The shoulds of anxiety and fear and wholeness and health.  The shoulds of the points of view circling around my mind.  I do not yet feel freedom in the struggle.  Maybe tonight, I’ll lay my head down, think of that poem, and start over in the morning.

How would you respond to the writing prompt, “sur.vi.vor – the process of surviving from another person’s point of view. – to beat the odds, one with great courage, a true inspiration.” ?

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This writing comes directly from one of our participants in our Unspoken Ink Creative Writing Group for young adult cancer survivors.  The participants met for 2 hours each week, for 10 weeks during our Spring 2016 session.  This writing has not been edited since its original creation, showing the wonderfully raw and powerful prose coming from the courageous writing group participants each week.  Our Fall 2016 session is already full but if you’d like to sign up for future sessions, please email info@lacunaloft.org.

Dear Body

young adult cancer writing group

Dear Body,

Really any body but mine.  I seek the refuge of a body with many characteristics, some of them I used to call my own.

I seek a body that doesn’t become ill at the slightest ounce of oncoming stress.  One whose sinuses don’t revolt just because I’ve worked a 50 hour week.

I seek a body that doesn’t tire so completely at 9 pm.  One, in fact, that could imagine venturing out past dark for some night time excursion or an evening of dancing.

I seek a body that requires only moderate control over the safety of its surroundings.  By safety, I do not mean dimly lit alleys.  Instead, I mean the notion of needing absolutely control over every boundary of a home.  If the body applying experiences anxiety over shoes left on or lights left off or whether the oven might burn the house down even though it hasn’t been turned on all weekend…please do not inquire further.

I seek a body ready for last minute adventures and sarcastic comments, a body not easily bruised, or weathered, or worn.

Dear Body…like I said, really any body but mine.  Please inquire further if you can sleep less than 7 hours and still leap from bed chipper and awake.  Dear Body, please inquire further if the circles under your eyes have not been painted on by chemo and stress.

…Sure, the body I have now works.  It moves and bends and runs about.  It just has such strict hours of operation and the worst tolerance for emotional discomfort without crying fatigue and melting all over the place.

Dear Body, really any body but mine…

 

How would you respond to the writing prompt, “Dear Body,…” ?

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This writing comes directly from one of our participants in our Unspoken Ink Creative Writing Group for young adult cancer survivors.  The participants met for 2 hours each week, for 10 weeks during our Spring 2016 session.  This writing has not been edited since its original creation, showing the wonderfully raw and powerful prose coming from the courageous writing group participants each week.