Someday I’ll get a divorce.
Someday I’ll travel around the world.
Someday I’ll find my dream job.
Someday I’ll forgive.
Someday I’ll clean out my closets (both physical and emotional).
When will someday be here? How much time do we have until someday arrives?
We live in a bubble of immortality.
We think we are invincible. Nothing bad happens to us; it’s always the other guy that gets mugged or hit by the bus. We believe we have an unlimited amount of time to accomplish all the things that we dream, talk, and fantasize about because, thankfully, nothing tragic has happened. Our bubble is safe.
What happens when you learn that time is precious and that you may not have as much as you previously thought? What will you have time for?
Better yet, what will you make time for?
I had the opportunity to ponder this question about “someday” in 2006 when my immortality bubble was popped. I was diagnosed with cancer. I had eighteen months of treatments and surgical procedures to consider what it’s like to no longer have the luxury of waiting for someday.
Because once the security of your mortality is threatened, your life is changed. Forever. You can’t un-pop that bubble.
I equate this feeling of no longer having a someday to how you go about your daily life in an average week versus the week before you leave for vacation.
A pending vacation dictates you live your life in a completely different way. Your focus shifts to making sure everything and everyone is taken care of while you are away.
All your work responsibilities get handled in advance; you pick up your clothes from the dry cleaners. You take care of yourself (hair cut/color, perhaps go on a bikini-inspired diet), and plan pick up and drop off for the children’s activities. You call people to tell them you are leaving for vacation. And every conversation around this vacation is filled with the positive hope and wonder about new adventures and experiences. And you are happy to make sure everyone is taken care of since you are focusing on how much time you will have relaxing and experiencing new adventures on your vacation.
Your attention shifts from that which you don’t want to that which you do want.
That’s sort of what it’s like to face your own mortality. Once you know that someday may no longer be available to you, there is a shift. I say it’s a shift for the good. Yes, something bad has to happen for one to face their own mortality, but can’t something good come from something bad?
Over the course of the past six years, I completed cancer treatment, recovered emotionally (and physically) from cancer, and found my way in a survivor’s world. I let go of people I needed to let go of, allowed new amazing people into my life, traveled, loved, forgave, and am learning to live in the present moment. Sometimes I think about doing something someday, and then I remember that someday is no longer on my calendar, nor do I want it to be there.
In 2006, after being diagnosed with breast cancer, Lockey Maisonneuve underwent chemotherapy, bi-lateral mastectomies with saline implant reconstruction, and radiation. During this time, she saw a real need for recovering cancer patients to exercise—not just for the physical rehabilitation, but also the mental aspect of regaining control over their bodies. After completing specialized training through the Cancer Exercise Training Institute, Lockey created MovingOn, a rehabilitative exercise program for cancer patients. Lockey and the MovingOn program have been featured on WABC, WCBS, News 12, WKTU, Overlook View, Shape, Park Place, and The Patch. For more on Lockey, visit her website and follow her on Facebook and Twitter.