I miss myself

Once upon a time, in a land no-so-far-away, a land called "Nova Scotia", there was a young girl that thought the best was yet to come.  She thought her friends could never be separated by distance, they would remain as close as ever.  She thought that cancer was something to worry about after 50 years old.  She thought when someone told you they love you, it was for real.  Then, one day, her bubbles began to burst.

We all go through it at one point or another.  The ideologies that we had growing up hit a hard wall of reality and parts of our soul came to a crashing stop.  Our innocence was beaten...  Well, I think it was more mutilated and scarred for life, not only beaten, but I digress...

Being away at Conference, I realized something after the first night of it: I lost more than I had come to realize.  Over the entire length of the Conference, I would experience times that I had once been able to enjoy/express freely, constantly, almost.  People ask me to tell them about it.  The first thing I want to say and don't is that I had a fleeting moment of what I once had, and now I need to come to grips with the fact that it's gone from my everyday life.  What is it?  That part of me that could freely enjoy herself with friends.

Now before anyone starts trying to call the "well you're a mother and/or wife now" card - stop right there!  I have not lost anything of myself with adding those two parts to my life.  I have, in fact, gained so much.  I have my son and husband that are very loving and treat me wonderfully.  But the realization is that I don't see my friends anymore.  It's a part of the drift that happened after school.  You go to separate schools, sometimes in different cities, provinces, countries.  You get married, they don't.  You have kids, they don't.  You get cancer, they (thankfully) don't.  These things are not necessarily bad, but they are another hit from the hammer driving the wedge between you and your friends.

My favorite night of Conference?  Was it Karaoke?  For once, no lol.  The dance?  I loved it, but it wasn't my favorite.  My favorite night was when several of us got some drinks and played pool together, followed by a dip in to get some pizza and wings.  Why would this mean so much more to me?  Because that was what we would do.  We would enjoy each others company, we would do something simple and it would be the most glorious night.  I had three hours of sleep that night, and it was better than all the other nights' sleep combined.

I'm grateful for getting to experience it one more time.  I'm saddened to realize what is gone.  I miss the me that had those relationships.  I miss the opportunity to feel that whole again.  My isolation started before cancer, but got drastically worse after.  My hope is because of the cancer, I might get through it one day.