Tit tattoos and apricot kernels; vulnerability in action

‘The Way of Openness is about embracing and welcoming and being curious about whatever is in front of us, staying in touch with our feelings, and being open to the constantly changing nature of what comes at us. This Way is not easy, but neither is the life of running from discomfort and uncertainty, as we’ve seen. This Way takes practice. It takes courage. It takes love…

In the end, this is about whether we want to go through life running from what we find and seeking comfort, or whether we’re going to find the courage to be open to everything, to finally be free of the running. In the end, we find that there was nothing to be afraid of after all. It’s a wonderful place to be, this changing, uncertain, uncomfortable and miraculous world.’

Leo Babauta, Zen Habits

My wife is on day three of her fifth round of chemo for breast cancer. She started a new type of medication this week. We had gotten ‘used’ to the vague pattern of events with dual chemotherapy drugs she received for her first eight weeks of treatment; nausea and headache, tiredness and sleeplessness, loss of appetite and lethargy. We were starting to get a grip of the pattern of the fourteen days between each round of chemo.

And this week it is all change, again.

Now she is also thinking ahead to surgery. Single versus double mastectomy. Reconstruction or flat or prostheses (she’s considering tattoos over the scar(s); I’m thinking two large owls, with ‘two-tit-tattoo’ written in large letters for when people stare on the beach.) And she’s trying to figure out what the post-operative period will be like with a 14-month-old the size of a bull mastiff running around. And what will six weeks of Monday to Friday radiotherapy sessions be like at the hospital thirty minutes away? And how will menopause be? And will she miss her ovaries? And, and, and.

And so we find ourselves grasping at straws, seeking for definites in a world of shifting shadows.

For me, this period of change and chaos has thrown up a lot of questions about meaning and direction. Our two children, a five year-old who has just started school and a ten month-old just starting to walk, are a grounding, stabilising presence in their vivaciousness and neediness and joyousness and uninhibited expressions of emotion. (This morning, Friday 6am: it is the end of the third week of school and tiredness is evident; I had to console my distraught daughter who was unable to create a haute couture dress from pieces of felt for her doll. And then we embarked on this masterpiece, thank you very much):

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This enforced staying open is necessary and good. One of my favourite writers, Brené Brown, in her book Daring Greatly, says:

‘Leonard Cohen writes, “Love is not a victory march, it’s a cold and it’s a broken hallelujah.” Love is a form of vulnerability and if you replace the word love with vulnerability in that line, it’s just as true. From calling a friend who’s experienced a terrible tragedy to starting your own business, from feeling terrified to experiencing liberation, vulnerability is life’s great dare. It’s life asking, “Are you all in? Can you value your own vulnerability as much as you value it in others?” Answering yes to these questions is not weakness: It’s courage beyond measure. It’s daring greatly. And often the result of daring greatly isn’t a victory march as it is a quiet sense of freedom mixed with a little battle fatigue.’

This week I’ve been experiencing some of that quiet freedom along with battle fatigue. It started off with a couple of days of confusion and feeling aimless and wandering in a couple of areas in my life. Perhaps not aimless but struggling to choose one way out of about five options, and despairing at this new area of uncertainty and potential change. But then small glimmers of freedom started appearing.

I spoke with a guy whom I respect who is at the forefront of yoga in Australia – Duncan Peak. He is a world-renowned teacher and comes from a military and footie background. I reached out – an act of vulnerability – and he responded. I was reminded that through sharing and connection, when we are just ourselves in all our plainness and lack of specialness, the goodness and selflessness in others often presents itself. I think the opposite is true; when we remain closed and suspicious and fearful, or inauthentic and defensive, we do not elicit the kindness and love of others.

A few days later a neighbour – whom we’d never met before – turned up at our door. She had come across this blog and wanted to share with Eva her story of breast cancer. She spoke openly and honestly, with great humility and sensitivity. Again, vulnerability here lead to vulnerability and connection in person.

About two months ago I sent one of these blog posts to the Huffington Post asking about the possibility of it being published. After Elephant Journal published one post, I didn’t think any more of it. Until I received the email from Arianna Huffington yesterday saying she’d like to publish it. Again, this openness and vulnerability led to outcomes which were simultaneously scary and exciting.

Doors creep open, new friendships are born, deeper connections are made as we are curious and accepting and reaching out to the world around us.

It’s an ongoing struggle to accept the unknown, not be attached to definites, and to simultaneously approach this whole tumultuous experience with an attitude of curiosity and vulnerability. It is so much more tempting to close up shop, become hard, put on our game face, and attack this in a military-style onslaught of energy and aggression and overt shows of rejection. It’s humbling to remain open to others, the kindness and love, and even the unsought after advice (nice article sent to me this week advocating apricot kernels over chemo and radiotherapy because tumours love sugar in apricot kernels and then the cyanide in the kernels is released and kills the tumours. Who knew?)

Openness, vulnerability. Two fuzzy words with edges of steel. Nice concepts which are painful, at times, to embody. My mantra during a yoga session this week was:

I inhale strength and life;

I exhale fear and confusion.

Which could be rephrased:

I inhale true vulnerability;

I exhale disconnection from my self and others.

Wishing you connection, openness, and authenticity in your journey of vulnerability.

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Author: smenelaws

Husband, father, friend, vicarious cancer sufferer, doctor, amateur yogi.

12 thoughts on “Tit tattoos and apricot kernels; vulnerability in action”

  1. Thank you Simon for again sharing your heart. On my daily email checks I hope there is an email from you guys and an update of how you are all doing. 🙏4eva

    Sent from my iPhone

    >

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Thank you so much for this post. How right you are about learning to be vulnerable and how it impacts so positively on life, reminding me of how I have learned to change over the last few years. This has made my day. Very best wishes to you and your family.

    Liked by 1 person

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