Writing Becoming Maz - My diversion therapy

My cat Tess encouraging me to write!

 I wrote my novel during the pandemic while I was having chemotherapy for Ovarian Cancer. It was a great diversion. I've had one recurrence last year and praying I'm not having another one now!  So here I am trying to stay calm and not think about this afternoon when I see my consultant oncologist for the results of my recent CT scan.

Like Marion in the novel and most people I suspect, I have spent a lot of my life thinking about the future, often going down the pessimistic route: 'What if I can't get a new job?' 'What if I never meet the love of my life?' 'What if my child has an accident?', but sometimes trying the optimistic route: 'What if I win the lottery?' 'What if my book does get published?' I would then try to plan for different outcomes for the pessimistic scenarios, imagining how I would cope with situations that hadn't happened yet and mostly never did. Someone once said, 'Worrying does not take away tomorrow's troubles, it takes away today's peace.'

As we get older it is often tempting to dwell on the past and this can also take a regretful negative slant: 'I wish I hadn't done that.' 'If only I hadn't made that choice.' 'I'm so ashamed about my behaviour then.' I have spent a lot of time imagining a life where I make different choices which I try to express through Maz in the novel.

Having incurable cancer has changed my perspective. Previously I always needed to be in control - to keep my life organised, plan lessons, make lists of things to do, etc and believed if I wanted to do something I could overcome any hurdles to reach my goal. My GP was surprised when I went to Nigeria despite not having long recovered from a serious back issue. Cancer took that certainty away - this was something I could not control. All I could do was 'go with the flow', a phrase I used to hate.  I could however choose how I responded  to my reactions of the fear and anxiety it brought. All I or anyone has is the present. Staying in the present makes me more aware of  the wonder and joy of simple things: light streaming through my bedroom window, my grandson laughing, a stranger smiling at me, my cat purring in my lap, planting seedlings in the soil and the feel of it in my hands, tasting my first ice-cream of the year while feeling the sun on my back and so many more! Moments spent with those I love are even more special now. Letting go of control enables unexpected joy!

I have also learned to live with the past. Guilt is a waste of time and my time is very precious now. Everyone makes mistakes and wishes they had done some things differently but most of us were just doing what we thought was best at the time. Some of my strategies in the past for coping were not ideal, sometimes anger took over or manipulation but they got me through and I survived.  I have allowed myself to grieve over past mistakes but then learned how to forgive those who have hurt me and most importantly forgiven myself. Those mistakes have taught me many things and provided valuable lessons. Shame and guilt wear us down. Casting them off brings back the power to enjoy life and embrace it in all its wonder!

I am far from perfect and although I have learned methods to cope with the anxiety and stress of cancer and all the pain of treatment and side effects, they often disappear on days like this. Scan anxiety is very real. Diversions won't eliminate them but they do distract so I will continue to write, listen to my cat purring and plant more seedlings, whilst accepting feeling sick is a normal reaction today!

Here's another extract from my novel where Marion, now calling herself Maz, embraces a moment on her hike in the Pennines:

At Hull Pot they fall silent. The deep, steep sided cavern is dry but it’s easy to imagine the impressive waterfalls from the deep grooves in its sides. Maz closes her eyes and pictures the water crashing down. The sun is hot on her face and the wind has dropped. Opening her eyes, she is alone in a spell of silence. An eagle swoops and glides in the sky. Massive long wide wings beat gracefully as it soars higher. Maz follows its flight. It is mighty, serene and certain, something visceral, primeval, something special brought back from the brink. She is flying to join it, to become it. Powerful and strong she rises higher into the blue sky. She’s expanding, she’s magnificent, powerful, self-sufficient, no longer Maz, no longer Marion. Nameless, she is so much more. Overcome with sheer bliss she views the insignificant dot of her body far below.