Free to be me

"There's a land that I see where the children are free 

And I say it ain't far to this land from where we are 

Take my hand, come with me, where the children are free

Come with me, take my hand, and we'll live

In a land where the river runs free

In a land through the green country

In a land to a shining sea

And you and me are free to be you and me" 

- Free to Be... You and Me by The New Seekers 

At left is me at the start of my last chemo session,
and on the right I'm ringing the bell to mark the conclusion
of the chemo treatments :)

I've missed you all! Although I'm sorry I haven't been quick to post in the past several weeks, I have hit a few important milestones along this cancer adventure. For one, I completed my chemo regimen on March 31 and am currently enjoying my second "chemo-free Friday" since then. Also, we met with my surgeon earlier this week to plan for the lumpectomy I'll have in just under a month. It's scheduled for May 11, and I actually get my chemo port removed next Monday - which means no more blood thinner shots! (Thanks to Sean, my Dad, and my dear friend Kristan for giving those to me at different times over these last several months.)

And, as you might remember from my last post, I was able to attend the ACPA convention a few weeks ago in Columbus, OH. Fortunately, the travels were relatively uneventful, and I had enough energy to participate in several presentations and events. I could not have felt more supported and encouraged in this cancer journey by the friends and professional colleagues I saw. So many folks affirmed my experience and expressed thanks for my writing through the process. Admittedly, I was somewhat embarrassed by the attention... we're all living life, encountering our own challenges, and choosing daily to keep pushing through. My instinct is to downplay my cancer experience, because I sometimes forget the accumulative effect of it. I admit, it could be pretty striking to see me along this path, still standing tall and keeping a lot of things together.

I noticed at ACPA - as I have throughout this process - that when people encourage me, words like strong, authentic, and vulnerable pop up with some frequency as descriptors of me and my approach to this fight. (I've even been called a "hero" - which completely floors me, especially when it comes from individuals I look up to!) I've been thinking a lot about what these kind assessments mean to me, and I'm humbled by the opportunity to inspire others through my journey.

I do know that it has taken an abundance of mental and physical strength to muscle through this cancer. When I step back from my day-to-day slog, I can see that my generally positive attitude, willingness to feel all the feelings that go along with having a scary disease (also, dis-ease), and openness about the process show fortitude. But, I have to admit, folks... I don't really know how else I could possibly have approached this fight, so the accolades feel undeserved. Truth is, battling cancer is a life or death situation. I choose to live, over and over.

Displaying vulnerability and authenticity is different, though. For me, those attributes are not just circumstantial reactions to enduring cancer - I actually think those are elemental components of who I am. And, I know those qualities can be really hard for people to embrace in their own lives (which is why Brené Brown's research on vulnerability has become such a global phenomenon), but I hope by example that I can encourage others to live as vulnerable, authentic beings, too.

A number of years ago, a group of colleagues and I embarked on a qualitative research project at the University of Maryland in which we explored our different intersecting social identities.* At the time, things like race, gender, class, sexual orientation, student status, and religion were particularly central to my understanding of self; I mean, I best understood who I was because of my whiteness, being a woman, growing up middle-class, dating a man, being a doctoral student, and affiliating with Catholicism. Through our research process, we drafted personal narratives about how we came to be who we were along different identity dimensions, shared those stories, and talked with each other about the stories we remembered, scribbled down, or had triggered by our follow-up conversations. It was a powerful experience, requiring a lot of trust and empathy. Really exposing who you are - and how you think you became that way - to others can be scary. Being open to other people's interpretations of your SELF takes an openness to thinking and feeling differently, dropping the inevitable defensiveness (a real struggle for me - just ask my spouse!), and shedding some entrenched self-understanding. Do this exploration in community with others, and another layer of challenge crops up; some of the things that make you YOU inherently oppress and run counter to what makes them THEM. In the end, I felt as though I more deeply understood myself and these comrades, and it went beyond feeling "close" to someone. Sharing and listening to some stories helped me share and listen to many, many more stories.

A theme that emerged through our research was that we brought authentic versions of ourselves (as we knew them at the time) to the conversations and vulnerably exposed our processes of becoming to each other. My hope for other people is that they will also find ways to learn about themselves, tell the stories of their lives, and have those stories be heard and accepted by their listeners.

Being authentic and vulnerable is a way I intentionally choose to be in this world, as core to my sense of self as some of those other constructs I named. As a child, I expressed emotions often and openly. Maybe I listened to Marlo Thomas' Free to Be You and Me too many times while growing up... just kidding, too much of that album is not possible! (Although, it is far more gendered than I remember.) Perhaps I'm considered "authentic" by others because I have absolutely no poker face and wear my feelings on the outside. Some aspects of these traits are likely connected to a decade of on-and-off personal counseling sessions; others come from teaching helping skills to graduate students; still others were taught to me by my parents and family. Regardless of the origins of my bent toward authenticity and vulnerability, I find it most natural to be who I am - even when I don't like parts of myself - rather than to cover up, obscure, or mute myself.

Of course, just because I try to live genuinely doesn't mean I don't struggle to do so. I don't lay bare my soul to anyone and everyone. On occasion, being true to myself and exposing my emotions or thoughts gets me ridiculed. Ironic though it may be - since it requires such strength to be vulnerable - showcasing vulnerability can be deemed a weakness (frequently based on one's gender or cultural identities). I've been lucky to have a family that accepted me for me, to be a woman-identified person who's allowed by society to emote freely, to have had role models reinforcing my choices, and to be privileged in ways I don't yet recognize.

In this ongoing cancer fight, I expect I'll continue to be my vulnerable and authentic self; I'm fortunate that so many people want to hear what I have to share. I hope you can afford the same grace for yourself and those around you, regardless of what challenges lie ahead. We're all stronger when we allow ourselves and those we know to be authentic and vulnerable. Our stories are important and deserve to be honored. It's not always pretty, but it's real and a critical part of the human experience. And, that matters.


*If you'd like to learn more about our project, we published a few peer-reviewed articles on the process and findings. Look for the following:

• Drechsler Sharp, M., Riera, J-L., & Jones, S. R. (2012). Telling our stories: Using autoethnography to construct identities at the intersections. Journal of Student Affairs Research and Practice, 49(3), 315-332.
• Jones, S. R., Kim, Y. C., & Skendall, K. C. (2012). (Re-) framing authenticity: Considering multiple social identities using autoethnographic and intersectional approaches. Journal of Higher Education, 83, 698-724.