2026 is a new year – we don’t know what awaits us, no matter how hard we glare at the snow in
the field that is the next 365 days. We might find some great things, we might encounter some
horrible things, and we’ll hopefully have a lot of bland, boring days in the year ahead. Now that
my chronic cancer is stable I adore the bland, boring days. I have my days where I am
interesting – I will always have those days by virtue of having a rare cancer, my body will
inevitably do something to interest someone (even if it is just a one-time abnormal result on a
blood test), but I hope to avoid those days as much as I can.

While I relish the bland and boring, every day being the same is nice…to a point – it’s a warm
comfy blanket of sameness, it’s the place you feel the safest, the comfort zone. Leaving the
comfort zone is hard, why would I ever want to do that? It becomes boring doing the same thing
day after day, so occasional steps outside of the comfort zone are necessary.

Leaving the comfort zone is especially difficult for me – I’ve mentioned in the past that I am
autistic, and one of those stereotypical autism traits is that we don’t like change. That rings true
with me! I dislike change, I don’t like spontaneity, I don’t like things being shaken up. When I go
on a trip, I make an excel spreadsheet beforehand with restaurants and activities saying what
day we should go to what restaurant for what meal, what activities should happen that day, and
I all but schedule our free time! I take comfort in the schedule, comfort in the routine, I know
what is coming up; sure, a wrench might be thrown in the works every once in a while, but those
are ideally few and far between.

This year, I will expand the bubble that is my comfort zone. I will try to meet up more with my
cancer friends (some of us already meet monthly for a trivia night at a local restaurant!) so
meetups with them are firmly in my comfort zone. I will push as much as I semi-comfortably can,
since you cannot leave your comfort zone without some discomfort; some unpleasantness, even
while doing fun activities, will always be present – the anxious brain loves doing that.
When I write these articles, I usually listen to some music to help my brain focus, concentrate, to
let the ideas flow from my brain to my keyboard. A song I was listening to on YouTube (I usually
listen to stuff on Spotify or YouTube) snatched my attention through the introduction of the
music video. It’s a spoken bit that goes as follows:

“I feel like stepping into a new version of yourself kind of feels like a death. We grow, make
mistakes, move on, and then one day we wake up and realize we’re nothing like the person we
once were. That person just vanished, disappeared completely and we never got to say
goodbye.” From Rest in Peace by BLÜ EYES.

This makes me think of two things at the same time: me before cancer and me after diagnosis (I
will never really have an “after cancer” in the sense of it being gone outside of the scanxiety
specter that haunts all of us). Me before cancer was shy, timid, anxious, an occasional self-
advocate, and someone who was an occasional fixture in waiting rooms. After diagnosis? I’m
shy, timid, anxious, an accidental advocate, and a fixture in waiting rooms. Sure that doesn’t
sound like much, but it is. My nervousness led me to research a lot in the initial days post
diagnosis; I found a lot of the resources that I recommend to people now in those days where I
was on the couch muttering “ow” whenever I moved because I was recovering from a bone
marrow biopsy. I didn’t wake up one day suddenly knowing how to do these things – it gradually
happened over time, like a snowball rolling down a hill until one day I was slinging resources like
it was my job or something. You don’t realize the gradual changes because they are just that –
gradual. They happen slowly over time at a pace where you don’t even realize it is happening
until suddenly we’ve changed. Ideally, the change has been for the positive and we can
embrace it – but sometimes it isn’t, but we can work on improving that, we can change.

In the spirit of Coffee & Oodles, why not take five minutes and respond to that spoken piece?
Maybe listen to the full song. What comes to mind when you think of the you who vanished?
Who do you want to grow into? The start of a new year is a great time to think about the you
that you want to put forth this year; who do you want to grow up to be this year? Who do you
want to be in 2026? What are your goals? Grab a piece of paper or open up your preferred word processor and let the words flow, you might surprise yourself.

I hope all of you have a wonderful January!