On Showing Up
Before cancer, I used to panic when trying to show up for people going through hard times.
“Omg I can’t believe that’s happening to them. Are they okay? Of course they’re not okay. I can’t even imagine. They must be hurting so much. Ugh. Okay ugh what can I do?! Should I reach out? Probably not, they might want space and I don’t know what to say. I’ll say the wrong thing and offend them and make their pain worse. Ugh, pain. Scary. Should I send them something? They don’t want a gift! Those are celebratory. Congrats on your loss? God Shannon, you’re so insensitive. And I don’t have their address, I can’t just ask them their address right now. THEY’RE HURTING. Okay, money makes people feel better, right? That way they can buy whatever they want- food, alcohol, books, idk anything! It’s like I’m saying “I’m here for you through anything.” No it’s not but it works. Should I venmo them? Shit, what’s their name on Venmo. Everyone’s username is first-last, right? Is that their face?”
My usual MO was to over-contribute to a group gift and debate whether I should reach out personally. I would spend days writing and erasing the same version of “I’m so sorry this happened, I’m thinking of you” text but never send it. Sorry wouldn’t make the situation better and me thinking of them wasn’t going to take their pain away, I’d tell myself.
Erase text.
“Hope you’re having a good day, I’m here if you need anything at all.” But what if they’re not having a good day?? What if they needed something I couldn’t provide??
Erase text.
Why bother saying anything if it could just make it worse?!? Sure, it might be nice for them to get a text. They don’t need to hear from silly old me though, I’m not even *that* close to them. They have close friends and family members that know them better and are probably sending them perfectly thoughtful text messages based on what they want to hear and their personal knowledge of them.
Then I got cancer. Weirdly enough, I didn’t panic.
“Okay this is going to be fine. I’m okay. This is a “good cancer.” Good cancer? That sounds like something only a doctor can say but no one else. No cancer is good. Lymphoma. Cool name, not that scary. Cancer is still scary though. Shit. There are other people that have survived lymphoma though. My mom just met one at Mattress King. He survived and so will I. Ugh, I’m going to lose my hair. That sucks. Bald and alive is better than dead though. Ew, how did these become my two options right now?! At least my friends sent me hair wraps. Kinda triggering seeing as I still have my hair but that’s fine. We’re all in this together. This could be fun though, I’ve always wanted to try out being blonde. I get time off of work, that’s pretty cool. But I’m going to miss my coworkers. Are they going to miss me? Probably not. Oh they just sent me a gift basket? Wow, maybe they don’t hate me. People definitely do though. Omg that guy I misgendered once and lose sleep over once a month just venmo’ed me and said buy yourself ice cream?!?! He doesn’t hate me either?! Maybe everyone doesn’t hate me. Cancer’s great!”
Okay, cancer is not great but the amount of people that have shown up for me during it has been life changing. It turns out support can come in the form of texts, calls, hand-written letters, care packages, venmos, food, gift cards, or even hats. And then there’s the blankets and fuzzy socks. If there was a universal “Cancer Gift’’ it would be blankets and fuzzy socks. My feet will never be cold again. I love and appreciate all of it, specifically the food. I value every person that reached out and am grateful for the thought behind each exchange.
Some of the most impactful gestures were the smallest ones. A “this sucks” postcard from a coworker across the country. A daily gratitude journal from a family friend. Random texts about anything that isn’t cancer. Texts to my family who are struggling with me every step of the way. Memes from an old college friend via instagram. You don’t have to know someone well to provide comfort.
One of my closest friends ran a half marathon and did a fundraiser, which is a HUGE gesture. She was feeling helpless after my diagnosis and this was a way for her to do something with her pain. This reminded me that I have a singular person in my life that processes pain with running and that I need to diversify my hobbies outside of drinking. It also reminded me that it’s okay to show up however works best for you.
I never expect people to know what to say, because there is no right thing to say. What might annoy me one day, might be exactly what I need to hear another day. If I don’t want to hear something, that’s on me and not you. For example, I’ve cancelled “You got this!” as part of my cancer journey. It started to feel like this=cancer. I GOT IT. I KNOW. I was never offended but that’s just my personal preference at this stage. People struggling do need to hear they can handle it and it helped early on.
While there isn’t a right thing to say, there can be things that are less right than others. If you’re reaching out because it’s the “right thing to do” and not because you care about the person, it will show. If your text is void of emotion and includes “I hope you respond well to treatment,” like I’m signing up for a vaccine trial, sit this one out. I don’t need to hear that you hope I don’t die but I hope it made you feel better sending it. Similarly, if you tell me “I could never [shave my head],” I will remind you that this wasn’t a fun style choice and you actually could if the alternative was dying.
Pre-cancer me? That girl definitely would’ve said the less right thing. I was putting myself in the center of the other person’s tragedy. I was over-emphasizing my reachout in the grand scheme of their pain. I was putting an unreasonable expectation on myself that I should be doing anything other than providing comfort. Support is a team sport and I was very deep on the bench. Anxiety made me think there was a *chance* I was going to somehow be a starting player. Anxiety is a liar; I should’ve known I will never be an athlete. I just needed to show up.
On top of that, I was so disconnected from sitting in my own pain that my panic was tied to the idea of myself going through tragedy and I physically couldn’t imagine it. Not having to imagine it was a privilege. I wanted to make sure they knew they weren’t alone but I was too scared to sit with them in it. Sitting with painful emotions without judging them, without trying to find a silver lining, without trying to change them is what people need most. I tried the whole ignoring feelings strategy and then I got cancer. Pick your poison! My friends and family listening to me and sitting with me in my pain is how I’m surviving. Showing up for other people starts with showing up for yourself.
Don’t be like pre-cancer Shannon when it comes to showing up for people. Other people’s tragedy has nothing to do with you, kindly get over yourself. They might not know what they need but knowing they’re not alone helps more than most things. You cannot and will not make their situation better but no one expects you to. Send the text. Slide into the support DM’s. Send the venmo. If you care about someone, the wrong thing to say is saying nothing at all.
