An Epic Hero's Journey: The beginning

I teach about the hero's journey as part of my healing story work. I use it in both my work and for personal support.
The hero is not necessarily an outwardly unique individual. He or she blends in with the crowd and at least when undertaking the first adventure, the hero is reluctant. He or she does not ask to be called to action and prefers to live a quiet peaceful existence with as little struggle as possible. Unlike an adventurer, the hero is not looking for personal gain and does not thrive on an adrenaline rush. Perhaps it is for this reason the hero will stand out once she accepts the call; her ego does not need to be served.

We might embark on a hero's journey many times in life, some will be small and some will be larger undertakings. These journeys may be easy or difficult. We may find the journey to be a straight path from start to finish or we may find we have many battles to fight before we even see the end of the journey. Most often, the road is twisting, a circle, or spiraled at the center before emerging at the other end.

My current hero's journey is more an epic that began in September 2009 with the passing of my eighteen-year-old dog after a long time of his struggling to walk. In early November, I brought my largest pond fish indoors for the winter and Big Fish, a koi I had raised for 15 years, jumped out of the tank to his doom. Funny as that may seem, it made me feel inept at caring for the life around me. Then, on December 12, 2009, my mother passed from a long-term illness. While I had said goodbye many times over, actually each time I left her, it was a tragedy because she was due to come home from rehab that same week. My dad was devastated.

Around January 20, during my annual physical, my doctor felt a lump in my breast. I had a core biopsy on January 29th and later that same day received a call that my dad, who had just driven to the Catskills to visit his brother and home again, was rushed to the hospital with breathing difficulties. He spent the next eight days in ICU. In that span of time, my biopsy returned as malignant. I was diagnosed with breast cancer. (You will note I did not say “I have” cancer. The wording of healing is very important. Cancer became a character in my story, the villain, not a part of myself.)

As I write this, Dad has gone from the ICU to his own room for three more days to rehab for one day during which he was rushed to the hospital twice and there to stay, finally moved back to ICU and not in good condition. I have had two biopsies, with ultra sounds and MRIs and still know nothing except the first biopsy result. It is February 16, 2010.

As with the hero, I was reluctant. “Why me?” I asked. “How can I manage all of this? It must be a bad dream.” And it has been the hardest thing I have ever done and I am not sure I can do it or for how long I can maintain composure and a stiff upper lip. I do not know if I have the courage to do what must be done and I do not know how I will fair. But one thing I do know, if my story honors the lives of those who have gone before me and helps just one person to face their journey, I must tell the story.

The Determined Storyteller is my archetypal heroine who allows me to step back from my own overwhelming emotions and see the facts more clearly. She was developed to help me clean house and straighten out my schedule and meet small crisis in my daily work. This character also helps me story this experience larger than life so I can write into it whatever I want the story to be and those who are reading may also be able to stand at a safe distance and take the journey with me.