Stuck in the In-Between

I’ve always been fascinated by those stories of people going through “near death experiences,” like when someone gets struck by lightning or nearly steps out in front of a car. That may sound slightly morbid, but it’s more about the life changing catalyst that these events seem to bring about. The survivors appear to have a whole new vigor for existing. They feel more alive than ever… so why don’t I?

Cancer is confusing. I would categorize it as a “near death experience,” but it’s not like getting struck by lightning. It’s not quick and it’s not clear cut, it’s messy. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure getting struck by lightning sucks too, but it’s different. For me, cancer was a long term near death experience, during which I was expected to act like everything was OK. “Be positive!” “You got this!” “You’re so strong!” Of course, people mean well when they make these comments, but they just don’t get it. It feels as if they are wearing a pair of rose colored glasses when they look at me. They see me as an inspiration. What am I inspiring you to do, I wonder . . . not die?

When I was diagnosed with cancer, I felt like I crossed a threshold of sorts. I went from existing in the land of the living, to existing in a confusing and surreal reality. I felt as if I was walking arm-in-arm with the grim reaper. The cancer I was diagnosed with (Hodgkin’s lymphoma), typically has no clear cause. Inevitably that leads to speculation and self-blame. I couldn’t trust myself—I was my own lightning strike. I didn’t feel safe. The fight or flight instinct was a constant hum in my mind. My body felt like a crime scene.

Meanwhile, more well-meaning people told me, “You look great!” Whenever I looked in the mirror I saw nothing. I felt nothing. I was invisible. The person I had been before cancer was dead. One day it occurred to me that I might actually be a ghost already. I mean that most sincerely; I feel like I exist between worlds now. If you get it, you get it. If you haven’t had cancer . . . you won’t get it. Stay with me though, I want to try to help you see me.

Ghosts understand grief and loss in a way that the living simply can’t. They aren’t expecting me to stay positive, they know bad things happen. They accept that, and they sit with me in the mud. Ghosts are excellent listeners, and they don’t judge. I feel braver when I face my cancer like a ghost. I know it’s OK if I am sad. I know that I am not alone. Ghosts are no longer tethered to their body. I am no longer comfortable in mine. Somehow, it feels the same—the disconnect is as palpable as the lump in my throat. It feels like I walled off a part of my mind as a safe place, where I rebuilt a semblance of myself. Everyone thinks I’m back to normal, I’ve convinced them all! The one person I haven’t convinced? Myself. Some days I wonder if I’m stuck in purgatory.

During purgatory (cancer), I turned to art as a coping mechanism. Painting has been one of the most healing aspects of my creative coping. This is where the ghosts first found me. With no plans of what to paint, I started making an abstract piece that involved textured thick paint. The paint felt more like a putty, and I decided to try and shape it using my hands, somehow I started seeing ghosts. My hands naturally made bold, smooth, and glossy ghost shapes on the canvas. I’m not sure why, but in that moment painting those ghosts made me feel seen. It felt like a mix of grief and hope, with a sprinkle of magic. Ever since that day, ghosts have become a large part of my art. I never see them as a bad omen or something sad, in fact it’s quite the opposite. I see them as friends.

Maybe it’s because many of my most treasured cancer friends have become ghosts. I am not scared of them, but the survivor’s guilt hangs heavy in the air. I get a pain in my stomach each time I take a step toward healing and get further away from the “in-between.” Somehow, I feel like I’m betraying my friends who didn’t get a chance to heal. I feel selfish asking for a second chance at living. I know the friends I’ve lost would be upset with me for feeling this way. They don’t want me to be unhappy. Yet I am scared . . . what if I lose my connection to them? All I want to do is make them proud. Katie . . . I miss you every day. You deserved to be here with me. They all deserved to be here. Do I deserve to be here?

Most ghosts are described as spirits who are unable to move on. At times I feel like moving on from cancer is impossible. I have hope for the future. Yet, planning for my future feels scary as hell. Buying tickets for a concert six months in advance feels like I’m inviting the universe to teach me another life lesson. I haven’t found a way to reconcile these dueling realities. I’m logical enough to know one is imagined negative karma, but what if it’s not? *Knock on wood* I just can’t take any chances. You understand.

Right…?

I believe the only way I can truly move forward is to accept my dual citizenship. I exist part time in the real world and part time in the cancer world. I am beginning to accept that it’s OK to feel different. I am not who I was before my diagnosis and that’s not necessarily always a bad thing. Like my ghosts, I have learned some valuable lessons about what is important in life. Ghosts often have regrets, unfinished business. The path I was on before my diagnosis would have left me in that same position. I spent so much time worrying about being “successful” in a career I didn’t care about. I agonized over what everyone thought about my looks and my choices. I lost sight of the important part, which is that they are MY choices, and this is MY life. I don’t want to be haunted by my choices or my indecision. I want to embrace being new and live in a way that makes my daughter proud of me.

I think I’m finally ready to cross over from the land of “in-between” to the land of “after.” Yet, I will always have room in my heart to carry the memories of my ghosts. After all, I wouldn’t feel complete without their company.

You can find Chelsey on Instagram as @ohyouresotough or on her website, ohyouresotough.com

This article was featured in the September 2024 The Ghosts of Cancer issue of Elephants and Tea Magazine! Click here to read our magazine issues.