Finding What I Need

I spent some time on Saturday night with a friend. Her husband passed away 3 years ago; he is my age. As we talked about grieving, I mentioned my initial thoughts would be to reach out for support, but instead, I've been reaching in. She smiled and wholeheartedly agreed.

This is what I mean:
For the past several years I've been doubting - and usually when I doubt I do research and ask questions to find answers to my questions. I did this when I went through my pre-divorce stage, when I went through my seeking God stage, parenting, grandparenting, step-parenting stages - seeing what others have to say. And I've learned.

Then cancer - and my boob party, and my desire to be surrounded by folks who could help me with answers. I purchased, and was given, books, was sent website links, was told about alternative treatments, etc. And I love, love, love the support.

I've learned something about myself though, in all of this. And that is I've had to turn inward and find strength from within to make it day to day. The support I have has allowed me time to be pensive, reflective, hesitant.

I thought chemotherapy time would be a chance for me to read my scriptures, read about cancer and its treatments, read about chaplaincy and grief and healing. Yet I haven't read a lot of books, joined discussion groups, watched TV/movies. I haven't had a need. What I've learned, and my friend said the same thing, is, time and space for meditating and reflecting, sorting, sifting, organizing brings answers to questions.


With 6 weeks off and now beginning radiation, I'm coming to the realization that what I've been searching for, for so many many years, is deep inside me. I'm finding that. Being still is a lesson I'm learning. Turning inside, pulling myself up, searching my own psyche rather than the internet, has brought me peace, a time for reflecting, reflecting of the introspective type.

How often do any of us really take the time to stop and look inside? I believe we are "outsource" driven, looking for someone, something, somewhere, that we fail to realize the answer is inside.

I'm Ronda, I'm 54, I have breast cancer, and I'm learning to trust - me.