Coming out

Yesterday I told a room full of people about my cancer.  Not that big of a deal given that:
A. I love talking about myself.
B. I love talking to large groups of people.
C. I've had a year of telling people about my cancer.
Still, it felt like a big moment.  I made a choice to "out" myself in a particular way, and I knew that people would have strong reactions.

We were having a "story share" about teaching.  I decided to share my experience on the first day of school last year when I told a room full of my colleagues about my recent diagnosis.  It was terrifying.  My cancer reality was fairly new, and I was literally shaking.  But I knew what kind of community I wanted - and needed - to have around me, and I knew that this was the way to make that community happen.  The results were remarkable.  Lots of love coming at me from all directions, but, more importantly, lots of people in pain who were able to see that it is possible to put your shit out there and to get what you need.  Yes, even from a work community.  Maybe these people aren't your closest friends, but for most of us they're the people with whom we spend the majority of our waking and productive hours.  And that connection needs to be recognized.  And nurtured.  And directed.

And, of course, in telling my cancer-coming-out story, I was coming out anew, and nurturing my new community with whom I will be working for the next month.

Here's another thing about sharing your shit - it's hard to function professionally and to carry whatever it is you're carrying.  I mean, each one of us probably has a reason to stay in bed and pull the covers over our heads.  But for the most part, we don't.  We get up, we get dressed, and we walk out the door to do our work in the world.  And that's laudable.  And when people know that you're not just doing your work, but you're also doing it while dealing with your own stuff, they look at you with admiration and appreciation.  And you deserve every bit of it.

So let people celebrate you for being awesome.