Keeping my wishbone together

Throughout your life there will be times when you have total control over what is to come, and others when you have none whatsoever. These two possibilities are connected like the ends of a wishbone; you’re tugging on one side, some external force on the other, until the center cracks, and in this moment of vulnerability and broken reality you make a wish: that it will all be OK that you will make the right decisions; that despite the difficulties life may leave on your doorstep, you will one day be able to walk outside like everyone else and not trip over them.

Every teenager wants to be normal. In fact, every person, no matter the age, has at some point or another yearned for this abstract concept we are all familiar with but are told truly doesn’t exist. As a senior at Lawrence High School, I wake up, go to school, take part in clubs, do homework, five days a week like every one of my classmates. On the surface, I’m normal — no one sees my spontaneous visits to the hospital after school, or the tears that well up inopportunely during Spanish class. And as much as we, ourselves, hope to be happy, we also hope that the people we care about will be, too.

As my wishbone started to pull apart, I found myself wishing that my mother’s cells multiplied the way I learned they are supposed to in biology class. That her cancer hadn’t spread to every corner of her body like the invisible sea monsters on the ancient maps of the world. That she had taken the advice of her doctors years ago when she first discovered she had breast cancer, so that I could have the comfort of knowing that she would be there to help me move into my dorm room, and celebrate with me when I land my first job and get married, and be there for the little moments in between and after.

I recognize that because I have already turned 18, and graduation is galloping towards me, I am by law, considered an adult. But sometimes you are forced to grow up sooner than is preferred. I learned prematurely that life has a proclivity for piling the major stresses and turning points upon you all at once. It is easy fall into the trap of using the hustle of daily schedules as an escape. You plan to study for your advanced placement exams, select the “right college” by May 1, apply for scholarships, hang out with friends over spring break, and still find time to let yourself relax.

But all of a sudden the world is spinning around you at the speed of light but you can’t time travel to a happier time. I learned that I need to deal with how I feel in the present, because I discovered that in a few days time, every feeling that I had been holding back spills out through some open pore I forgot to plug and drowns me. I know that I am only one of the many students struggling to stay above sea level, no matter the specific situation they are treading in. And this, in a sense, is comforting.

Finding healthy ways to cope has become a major priority of mine. And so I finally began sharing my struggles with a few supportive friends. I push myself to share my emotions with my family; I’m not quite used to doing so, but it’s a work in progress. Writing has become my life jacket and I try to express myself as much as possible. I do my best to take things day by day, not look too far ahead, and take advantage of every moment I still have with my mom.  

It often feels like nothing can make things better.  I know that in reality I have no control over what is happening, but I do have control over how I face my personal obstacles, how I become stronger, and most importantly, how I can make the best of the worst.