When I learned I had cancer, I knew that the tumor could be cut out. It was a tangible thing. I could "learn" how to deal with cancer and fight death. I'm not sure how to "find" myself. I feel hollow. There's a shell here, for the outside world to see. Everyone sees the shell, and they talk to it and they act like it's me, but I no longer feel like me. It's just a cover, a mask. My carefully honed defense mechanism that I have tweaked over the years. My antennae is razor-sharp, reading the signals, ready to react, ready to duck for cover if needed. Yet inside, nothing. A great big, empty, gaping, hollow space. A chasm if you will; a vortex, a bottomless pit. And if I look too closely at the vortex, I will spin out of control until I separate into a million little pieces, mixing invisibly with the matter of the universe. So I cling to the side and I don't look. I know where my real self is. She's off there, to the left and a little in front of me. But I can't reach her.
One of the things experts suggest is to figure out if you can (and should) reinvent yourself. Writer Robert Brault says, "Never mind searching for who you are. Search for the person you aspire to be". I like that! Maybe it's time to let the "old" Tami go and spin-off in a new direction?!