Hi, My Name Is...

Haley. 22 years old. College Student. Christian. Woman. Daughter. Sister. Friend. This is who I was before my diagnosis. And, as I'm learning, this is who I still am.

9 months before first cancer diagnosis.
June 2011

Cancer does a lot to a person. Physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. Any degree of trauma, battle, life experience... these events change and mold us. Fighting against this disease is tough. Cancer has forever changed me. And now I'm on a path to rediscovering myself amidst fighting this disease.

Today, as I was going through my typical routine and getting ready for the day, I looked in the mirror. Surgery scars. Bald head. No eyebrows. Bags under my eyes. A noticeable amount of pounds lighter. I simply asked myself, "Who are you now?"

I am still Haley.

Pre-cancer, I was athletic, determined, fun, adventurous, and care-free. I enjoyed being a college student and athlete. I loved to cook, bake, and have friends over. I exercised. I was excited for the future. I dreamt about being the first college graduate in my family, and eventually getting married and starting a family (no timeline on that one!) Cancer was the furthest thing from my mind.

In my battle against this disease, I have began to identify as a cancer patient. I have identified as a soldier in the throes of a civil war, and fighting, quite literally, for my life. And in the midst of combat, I lost sight of who I was before the war began. I don't suspect that's uncommon. As someone fighting for their life, we tend not to focus on things such as what's on the dinner menu for the week, or what movie we'll see next, let alone complex questions of self identity. Warrior. Soldier. Fighter. Survivor. That's who I am. And again, I'm learning, that's who I will always be.

I find myself pondering more and more if I am the same woman before cancer as I am now? Do I still enjoy the same things? When I look into the mirror 20 months since original diagnosis, I notice someone different. Not only am I physically different, but I, Haley, am different. I am not who I once was. I have been molded by the fire. I have been broken, reshaped, and sculpted, and have the scars to prove it. Coming to terms with this thought scared me at first. Because if i am different, who am I now then? My name is the same. My face shows similarity from before, with an added tired appearance. But do I really know me?

As of this moment, I cannot confidently say I know all of who I am. But I'm beginning to understand that's alright. Life events change us. And if we don't change with the seasons, we might get buried in the past. Evolving, changing, and progressing into the future is healthy. As I am rediscovering myself, I know for certain that my foundation remains. My soul is untouched. I am still Haley: College Student. Christian. Woman. Daughter. Sister. Friend. But because of this season of torrential downpours, I am now more than that. I am more sensitive, aware, and compassionate. I am more braver and stronger than I ever thought I could be. A new passion for sharing my story and helping others has been birthed inside of me. As I continue to battle through the fog and haze of the battlefield, I find that I still love to cook and bake. I am still determined, adventurous, and fun. I still enjoy spending time with friends.

If it weren't for this diagnosis, I would not live the way I am living today. I am living boldly and courageously. I am soaking up every moment, no matter how big or small. I value and appreciate my friends and family more than I ever had before, for they all have still faithfully stood beside me when they could have easily jumped onto the next train. My gratitude towards my One, True God is greater and far more vast than it was many, many months again. I woke up today with breath in my lungs and for that I am immensely thankful.

Though I'm sure there will be moments where I have to recheck myself and shake my own hand in introduction, I can undoubtedly count on the identity I have in Christ. He has filled me with a spirit of love, power, and wisdom. I am His daughter and He is my friend. Through Him, I can do all things. Through Him, I have hope and a future. If my identity lies in the Lord my God, I will never be lost. So during these times of rediscovery, I cling to the knowledge that I am His creation and that my identity can always be found in Him.

When His Light Shines Through

I came to a coffee shop this morning to get some homework done, yet here I am...blogging. I think it's about time that I write something on here anyways.

It has been just over a week since I found out that I need more chemotherapy than originally planned, plus adding another kind, and then hearing the news that at the end of these 16 rounds–it still might not be enough, which is where a bone marrow transplant would be in the talks again.

How do you plan for life beyond cancer when the journey just keeps getting longer and longer? How do I trust Him that this won't be the one road I walk on the rest of my life?

I feel like I am stuck in this little room with a window. This window feels like it is stopping me from planning ahead. It is stopping me from thinking that there is even a life to plan for beyond this all.

Most days, the sun is shining through the window, but many days a thick fog rolls in and blocks the sun and blocks my view of life outside of cancer.

This fog represents my days of questions and doubts.
This fog represents my pain and discomfort.
This fog represents my confusion.

The question, "Why?" is asked more throughout my day than any other question, but I need to remember His answer to that question is probably something beyond my earthly comprehension; that I can't smell the color nine.

I can't expect Him to answer...in fact I can't expect Him to do anything. I can't put my hope in any kind of answered or unanswered prayer. My hope has to be put in Jesus Christ; that He was, He is, He will always be.

My hope has to be put in the fact that the fog isn't going to last long before the sun start shining through the thick darkness. HE is going to shine through.

He is near in the shouts and sorrow and pain. His promise is still true. I have made you. I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you (Isaiah 46:4). 

So regardless of my questions and doubts. My pain and discomfort. My confusion. He is the answer. He is the hope. He is everything.

I need to grasp tight to this truth when the fog rolls in because it is a chance to know Him in the suffering. He has forever changed me, and I need to celebrate that.

Celebrate the depth the question "why?" has created in my faith.
Celebrate the times when the sun shines through the fog.
Celebrate Him and how He has never left my side and never will.

There is a life beyond the window....there is a life beyond cancer.