ImageApproximately one week before my dad’s cancer diagnosis I decided to write down this thought and keep myself under control. I keep it in a very visible area. It is in my bulletin board at work,  where for better or worse most of my hours are spent. Days like today I need to read it.  I cannot remember the author or article in which I found it,  but I do remember its meaning.
I am a ” go getter”. I describe myself like that because, call it work, relationships, fun things, whatever it is,  I go after what I want in order to achieve it.  I have also learned to stop moving so much and let things fall where they should be, when they should happen.  It is easier said than done but after doing the same things and getting same results I decided to try other approaches.

One of my favorite books (such a favorite that I have been reading it for almost two years since I don’t want to finish it) is The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin. I believe one of the reasons for liking it so much is the author’s initial reason for writing it.  She says: “I didn’t want to look back, at the end of my life or after some great catastrophe, and think, “How happy I used to be then, if only I’d realized it”.

Something alike happens with this note to myself. When dad was diagnosed with cancer I realized I really had an almost perfect life with its ups and downs but nothing so big that it couldn’t be handled. My dad’s sickness brought me to a new perspective about life. There is nothing more powerful and that can make you feel so out of control, than knowing your health or a beloved one is at risk. Medicine is a science,  but life is by no means predictable.

“Can you stay still and see that nothing is missing?”, it is not only a note to myself, it is a vote of faith. Sometimes it feels like I have missed to acknowledge a blissful life,  but some other moments it is a reminder of what I have. Nevertheless,  I need to believe some things had not yet been discovered before my eyes, and even without my “go getter mode” are about to happen.