A Succubus is a demon that takes human form. In legend, the succubus seduces her victims and slowly steals their health, their strength, and, ultimately, their lives.
This is not a story about that kind of succubus. This succubus is equally dark, and can ultimately steal lives. It is not seductive, just insidious.
Have you thought that all of this sounds a little dark for me, when compared to my usual outlook? Well, these thoughts are the reason I have chosen the outlook I have. These thoughts are the reason I choose joy, the reason I choose to travel on the so-called sunny side of the street.
I’ve done battle with this succubus, along with most of the women in my family: we call it cancer.
I’ve shared the pattern here before, shared the history. I chose to break the pattern, as my mother did before me.
None of that means I’m not struck with my own RAGE at times. Tonight is one of those nights. I’ve been listening to or watching so many beautiful, strong women battling this demon as I did. And I am so. damn. mad.
Never did I give myself time to be angry while I was sick. I never dipped into that dark well, for fear I wouldn’t make it back out. But I find myself having a moment, a mood, where I’d like to yell and scream and break something beneath my fists. (Therefore, I will be on my treadmill after posting this blog.)
Part of me wants to take this enemy, this evil, and fight it the way you’d fight an attacker in an alley.
I walk past the mirror every morning, on my way into the shower. My formerly smooth skin is a cross hatch of scars from surgeries, and in so many ways I still do not know who “that” woman is. I do not recognize this body. I still haven’t figured out how it works. But, that woman is me. Those scars are me, in a form I never thought to see. And for all of the scars, all of the nerve damage, I am one of the lucky ones.
These are battle scars. The sign that I’ve won is the fact that I’m still standing here. I’m unbelievably, richly blessed. I know it to the depths of my soul. Living this new normal is an opportunity not everyone can have.
Tonight, though, I’d like shout out my rage to the sky, tear a disease apart with my bare hands. I’d like to somehow destroy the strange flashes of fear that can still dog me if I’m not vigilant enough: that thought that any new “thing” may be a return of cancer. It’s not returning, but the fear likes to makes itself known. And this foe is not something I can fight with fists.
Thank you for reading this strange, sad rant.
Monday blessings to you all…