When starting round five with procarbazine, a little gremlin clawed at my belly and woke me up around midnight. Although I took my nerve pain medication before the chemotherapy, I’d forgotten to take my anti-nausea pill. That was a painful mistake.

To ground myself, I tapped into a practice with diaphragmatic breathing. With my eyes closed, I eased into my gut with a slow, deep inhale, filling up my belly like a balloon. I sunk deeper into my breathing through an exhale. I allowed the sensations to arrive on their own while observing with no judgment and giving gentle massages to get in closer: the stuffy gurgling, the sharp needles, the tumbling cramps. Through the repetition, I asked, “what do I need?” Eventually, I was soothed back to snoozing.

Fortunately, that was an easier night. Some nights can be brutal from the side effects of the chemotherapy. I fucking hate chemotherapy. Well, I hate what my body has to experience in order for me to stabilize my brain cancer. And alongside the physical side effects, there is also the mental and emotional confusion: Chemo Brain (brain fog).

Meditation is one of my crucial practices for me. The idea is to build and strengthen my self-awareness like exercising any other muscle (focus, practice, and repeat) and give myself a space with grace by connecting my mind and body. Overtime, the practices create a foundation where I can tap into what I’m experiencing and ease into a space that holds me with a warm embrace at anytime. In other words, I’m giving myself love through meditation.

(If interested, I highly recommend Mindfulness Meditation for Pain Relief by Jon Kabet-Zinn.)

I can struggle with confusion from chemotherapy, radiation, and the impact from my hemorrhage. And sometimes, my intelligence can feel like a curse.

When I had my brain hemorrhage and a feeling of bliss, I had less worry. I felt incredibly calm and at ease. I could simply enjoy the day and continue the practices through healing with speech therapy, occupational therapy, and physical therapy. There was also a clarity towards a direction; a feeling of a path.

Then all the twists and turns came back again. All these forks and roads until I was lost in the woods again. The suffering creeped into my mind where I became less connected with my body. I was shook back to reality and became overwhelmed from life that is chaos; chaos that is life.

Let’s take a look at Humpty Dumpty.

“Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,”

BY MOTHER GOOSE

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall;

All the king’s horses and all the king’s men

Couldn’t put Humpty together again.

If all the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put Humpty together again, what can Humpty do for himself?

Consider the king’s horses and all their king’s men as my healthcare team. There is an abundance of specialists that are willing to help and guide me. Along that line, there is even the neuroplasticity where the brain can recover and repair from brain damage over time. Still, that’s not enough to heal. Humpty Dumpty and I have a responsibility to heal ourselves by learning how to adapt with what is given through discipline, practices, kindness, and love within life.

However, life is chaos. Chaos is terrifying. Chaos is exhilarating. Chaos is horror and beauty and everything between. How does one organize their own confusion through chaos?

I give room to learn through curiosity and wonder. What can I find within me and around me? What can I do? How can I add to it? The work is daunting, strenuous, and exhausting from the habitual exposures and practices by embracing all of life once again.

Two years ago, I brought in a dog to rescue, Gambit. Gambit was a pit bull mix around ten months and riddled with fear. He was incredibly sweet but would not walk on a leash; he immediately dropped to the floor. And I had an enormous fear as to whether I could handle him and give him what he’d need. We learned and adapted together. I could see his fear in him which helped me to build my own confidence.

Then there was the confusion. I worried whether I would confuse him by saying the wrong command. And what I learned is that he was more responsive with my gestures. Eventually, we were on the walks together where I started practicing my own speech therapy by trying to chit-chat along the way. He also encouraged me to maintain healthy routines and habits. He absolutely loves exploring the yard, his walks, and socializing with other dogs.

I kept adding more by surprising myself: long walks and trails, socializing at the dog park, learning the guitar, building friendships, going to concerts and theaters, and learning to write again.

We must give ourselves grace, kindness, and patience while healing; whether that’s mental, emotional, physical, spiritual, or all of the above. And we can find room to surprise ourselves by embracing life fully through love despite confusion.

Who knows what is ahead? How frightening. How sublime. How boring.

Take this single moment. Hold it. Then let it go. Life offers everything and nothing and everything in between. Practice finding love in unexpected places where confusion will not hold you back from life. Be you, fully, and life will be there for you.