Room to Merge

Last week I had my first rush hour driving experience in many many months,  and in my new found "calm" I found myself observing a behavior I've witnessed many times before with a new found philosophical tilt.

Have you ever noticed how cars coming down an on-ramp to the highway will line up, almost bumper to bumper, as they attempt to merge with vehicles already on the road?  It's crazy to think that you'll be able to smoothly merge with moving traffic if you've failed to leave room for anyone else to take the place in front of you.  It's just counter-intuitive.  Then there's those yield signs - yield means to "give way", but on we go, bumper to bumper, only giving way at the last moment.  Heaven forbid someone
gets in front of us.

And that made me think:  life is like rush hour - we need to make room to merge and yield, otherwise we crash.

Right now I'm on that on-ramp from one road, my life before cancer, to the next, my life going forward; and I know it's going to be important to yield and merge.  I know if I don't leave room, some space in my life and in each day, to practice new behaviors, that merging into my new life will be difficult. And chances are, if I continue to drive bumper to bumper through my life, leaving no room for change, or dodging in and out of new behaviors, I will crash and burn.  But it takes time to create new habits and being in a state of "construction" may require a few detours now and then; like my recent surgery which put my exercise routine on temporary hiatus.  And, I know there will be bumps in the road, some "overheating" and possibly a few "breakdowns" along the way - the new hormone therapy brings a lot of new adventures.  But detours don't mean I end the journey or turn around and go back where I started.  Focusing on the destination, a new healthier life, enables me to keep moving in a positive direction.    

Merging into my new and improved, and heavily reconstructed life is going to take some time, and I'm thankful each day for all the people that are allowing me that room to merge.

Then there's yielding
Giving way.  Letting go.  

For me, this comes in the form of relinquishing control in some aspects of my life.  Or, more accurately stated, accepting the fact that I never really had the control in the first place.

"Control" is like a rainbow, but not as pretty.  We think we can see it,  but it always alludes us. Cancer taught me that, no matter what you do, there are just some things you can't control.  So we leave the rainbows to God; we yield, we let someone else take the lead, and we give way for change.  

And change leads to letting go.

In 6 short weeks my daughter will leave for college.  And as proud of her as I am, and excited for this new adventure for her as I am, I know it will be hard to see her go.

This year has taught us both so much, and if you had asked me last summer how I felt about her leaving for college this fall, I would have told you I was freaking out, terrified at how much I was going to miss her and worried about how she would handle so much change.

This last 8 months changed all that.  Cancer reminded me:
“If ever there is tomorrow when we're not together.. there is something you must always remember. you are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. but the most important thing is, even if we're apart.. i'll always be with you.”  
Christopher Robin was one smart kid.

So, while I know I will miss her, I also know that living apart is not the same as living without her; and letting go and allowing her to grow, is different than letting her go - because she'll always be with me, and I will always be with her.  

Merging and yielding...making way for the new, letting go and allowing change to happen.  Sometimes we are our own biggest roadblocks.  But all it takes to clear a jam is a little room to merge.