Tag: Life lessons

creativity

This is the secret of life

Christa Avampato

If you get to the end of this story, I’ve got a secret to share with you. The upper left picture is me exactly two years ago right before I had a bilateral mastectomy and reconstructive surgery for early-stage breast cancer. My “Good Trouble” photo. The lower left is me the next morning at sunrise. My “I Survived” photo. The right is my official matriculation photo from the University of Cambridge taken last month as I began my graduate studies there in sustainability leadership. My “A Dream Deferred, but Not Denied” photo.

I have so much empathy for the woman on the left. It was the first time in my life I’d ever been admitted to a hospital and the first time I’d ever had surgery. I was terrified and also determined to be brave and evict cancer from my body.

With surgery I placed my life in someone else’s hands. I told Brian, my therapist, a few days before that I was terrified of surgery because there was no way for me to product manage the operation. He listened patiently, as always, and said, “Honey, you’re talented but even you can’t give yourself surgery. You have to trust someone else. The only way to conquer fear is to run right at it.”

It was a 5-hour tag-teamed procedure to remove all my breast tissue and 37 lymph nodes, and place chest expanders under my chest muscle. 14 months of constant pain later, they were swapped for much comfier implants. I smiled through the prep, thanking the nurses who helped me, determined not to crack.

Before entering the surgical suite that looked like a NASA space station, Dr. Schnabel, my breast surgeon, and Dr. Cohen, my plastic surgeon, visited with me. Dr. Schnabel looked me in the eye and said, “Sweetie, you’ve been stoic through this. It’s okay to have a moment. Then we go into battle.” Good trouble. I wanted to be as brave as John Lewis whom Audrey, my friend Stephanie’s daughter, painted onto my mask. That photo is the last day I had any cancer in my body.

I decided to walk into the surgical suite on my own two feet, even if my only armor was my surgical gown. I was scared and I ran right at it. This was going to be the last day that I had any cancer in my body. My last thought before closing my eyes was I hoped I lived to see the sunrise the next morning.

I have no memory of the surgery. I closed my eyes at NASA and woke up in the cloud of the recovery room. I was told they’d given me just a touch too much fentanyl and my blood pressure took a nosedive. I thought this was hilarious and laughed hysterically. Then I asked for some apple juice. Ah, narcotics.

I was in recovery for a long time and wasn’t admitted to a regular room until the wee hours of the morning. My dear recovery nurse, Esther, ran all over the hospital trying to find me a fresh turkey sandwich. I hadn’t eaten solid food in 24 hours and that plain turkey sandwich was one of the best things I’d ever eaten.

I told her my wish to see the sunrise and she was determined to make it a reality. I watched Harry Potter and munched on my turkey sandwich until daybreak. Maybe it was the drugs but I did feel like a witch with magical powers, as bandaged and bruised as I was.

Esther came back as soon as the sun started to come up. She helped me walk to a corner room where I could see the east river and the first rays of light illuminate my beautiful city. She left me alone to have my moment. I survived.

Back in my room, Dr. Schnabel and Dr. Cohen visited me. When I saw Dr. Schnabel, I cried for the first time. Again she looked me in the eye, two warriors on the other side of this one battle in a series of many more to come in this war. “Sweetie, it won’t always feel like this. You’re going to get to the other side. There’s a whole team of people focused on getting you there.”

I thanked her for saving my life, and she said, “I’m just part of the team. Team Christa.”

A few hours later my friend, Marita, picked me up at the hospital to take me home to where my sister who was graciously waiting for me with my dog, Phin. I had a giant bag of meds and surgical drains hanging out of my body. “How do you feel?” Marita asked once we got into her car. “I lived,” I said. “You did,” she said. “And you will.”

Fast-forward two years after climbing mountain after difficult mountain. That war on cancer was more epic than I ever imagined it would be. I nearly died, twice, from a severe and rare chemo allergy that shut down my lungs. I lost my long wavy hair to chemo and regrew 1940s ringlets. I was badly burned by radiation and completely healed. Now I’ve got new hard-earned boobs the same size as my OG boobs. That day in surgery was the last day there was ever any sign of cancer in my body—two years clear. Dr. Schnabel was right. I did get to the other side and I don’t feel the way I did before my surgery. This journey made me fearless.

When I was first diagnosed, I was just about to hit submit on my graduate school applications for Cambridge and Oxford. Then cancer struck and I had to put those applications away, afraid I may never get to submit them. I would sit in the chemo suite and dream about those far off places, dream that someday I would swap my surgical gown for an academic robe.

In September 2022, that dream happened. I took the train from platform 9 at King’s Cross to Cambridge, my own version of the Hogwarts Express just ¾ of a platform off. I thought about how I had watched Harry Potter’s train chug along on my TV screen in my hospital room two years before.

When I arrived at Cambridge, I dragged by very large bag that felt like a trunk onto the platform. I had myself a good cry in that train station. Here it was—my dream deferred, but not denied.

At my recent appoint to get the all-clear and graduate to annual checkups rather than 6 month checkups, Dr. Schnabel called my healing and this new academic chapter of my life a triumph. The dream became a reality, and I’m beyond grateful to everyone who helped me get here.  

I’ll never get back the life I had before the photos on the left, before cancer and COVID. I mourn the loss of that life. I miss it. But in exchange, I got something better. Environmental pollution was one of the main contributors to my cancer. Now I’m healed and dedicated to healing the planet.

Now for that secret I promised you at the start of this story. Along the way on this painful and difficult journey, I learned the secret of life. It’s love.

To love fiercely and be loved that way in return. To love whom we spend time with, the place we live, and the work we do. To love the planet that gives us everything and asks in return only to persist and continue giving to all of us. To love this life so much that our heart swells with gratitude for every day we’re given, the good and the bad, the ugly and the beautiful. To love and honor your time, and the time of others.  That’s it. That’s the secret, and it will transform us and our planet for the better.

Get into good trouble; the planet is counting on us. Survive, and then share your story because your story’s going to save someone else. Even if you have to put some dreams on hold right now, you can still make them happen bit by bit and they’ll be sweeter when you do get there.

Love, this and every moment. That’s the only secret there is, and the only work we really have to do.

creativity

Joy today: 10th Anniversary of My Alive Day—How a Nightmare of a Fire Led to a Dream as a Writer

Christa Avampato

Ten years ago today, my apartment building caught fire and nearly killed me when I was almost trapped inside. I lost almost all of my belongings that I owned because my neighbor in the New York City apartment building I had moved into 3 weeks before set her gas stove on fire and then ran out of the building without turning off the gas. I used to think of September 5, 2009 as the worst day of my life. Now I think of it as my best. I wouldn’t wish my path on anyone, and I also wouldn’t change it, not one bit of it, because I love my life now and each of these difficult steps brought me here.

The first few years
Over the several years after the fire, I was dealt a hefty dose of PTSD that still persists in fits and starts today. I had intense anxiety attacks that would take over my mind and body without warning. I often felt like I was watching myself fall into madness. Being conscious of your descent and having no ability to stop it is a terrifying existence. I would be lying to you if I didn’t fully admit that there were nights I would lie awake in bed and wonder if life was really worth it. Many days, my answer to that question was “no, it’s not worth it.”

A nightmare that led to a dream
One night, I had a nightmare that I had climbed out to the balcony of my apartment and jumped to my death. I woke up just before I hit the pavement on Broadway down below. Obviously, I woke with a start. The moon was so big and so bright just outside my window that it was almost blinding. I went out to my balcony, and in my foggy state of mind, I could swear that moon spoke to me. I was in a job I didn’t like, in a romantic relationship with a narcissist, and I spent most of my time profoundly unhappy. Out on that balcony, I realized that I wanted to be a writer, that I had always wanted to be a writer, and if I had died in that fire, I never would be. I’d die with stories still in me. That’s when Emerson Page, the protagonist in my novel that would be published almost exactly 8 years later, began to take shape in my imagination. I would later learn that the name Emerson means “brave”, and that’s what she’s taught me—to be brave. Deep in my gut, I know that the moon and Emerson saved my life that night, and that they have saved me many nights since.

Therapy
Several months after the fire, I wasn’t doing well. One day I found myself sitting on a New York City sidewalk crying. I didn’t remember where I was going or how I got there. It’s as if I had fallen asleep and woken up in a place I didn’t recognize. A man put his hand on my shoulder and asked if I was okay. My honest answer was, “I don’t know.” Shortly after that, a friend convinced me to go to therapy and recommended a therapist to me. Our first meeting was basically me throwing out a lot of words and a lot of emotions, Brian listening, and then him telling me two things that changed my life: “I’m not afraid of you” and “I think I can help you if you want to be helped.” And that was it. I entered weekly therapy for 3 years, and to this day I still go to see him here and there when I am struggling. It is not an exaggeration when I say Brian pulled me out of my deepest darkness many times and that he is one of the tiny handful of reasons that I survived those early years and went on to build a life I love today. Without him, my life now would not be possible. He is a miracle worker. I owe him everything.

Making peace with my past
As it turned out, the fire was one trauma that burned away the wrapper I tightly bound around many other traumas I had endured over the years. Once the fire happened and my PTSD was in full effect, I could no longer hide nor contain those earlier traumas. I had to deal with them. Those traumas were festering and wreaking havoc in my life in all kinds of ways that I hadn’t even known or acknowledged. It was painful to do the work to heal myself, and it was necessary.

A dog
About a year after the fire, I got my first dog on my own as an adult. I had grown up with dogs and loved them so much, but had convinced myself that I needed to be in a relationship before I could get a dog because raising a dog and taking care of one in New York City on my own was something I just couldn’t do.

My fire gave me a lot of occasions to say, “Well, if I’m not going to do this now, then when?” And so, I decided to foster a dog. The fostering lasted about 5 seconds. I saw my dachshund, Phineas, a rescue who desperately needed a loving, supportive home, and I knew he was the dog for me and I was the human for him. We have had our ups and downs – plenty of mental and physical health issues for us both – but he is by far one of the best beings I’ve ever had in my life. We rescued each other. We still do.

Grateful for the lemons
My fire stripped me bare of any and all pretenses, excuses, and denials. Though at first it made me afraid of everything, it eventually made me fearless. It made me strong and confident. I had run from a burning building, lost almost everything, and rebuilt my life—mentally, physically, and emotionally—from scratch. What did I have to be afraid of? What could I not do? That fire taught me that my only constraint was me. I wasn’t making lemonade out of lemons. I was and am grateful for the lemons, just as they are.

Life today
My life is not perfect now, far from it. There is still so much I want to do. There are so many places I want to go and see. There are still so many experiences I have yet to have, that I want to have. For today, I’m putting those aside. Today, I’m just happy to be here at all, still broken in some places and with all the pieces I need to be whole. Thanks for listening. Thanks for being here with me. It means more to me than I have words to say.

creativity

A Year of Yes: The best lesson from Maya Angelou—I’m with you, kid.

Christa Avampato

“Life loves to be taken by the lapel and told, ‘I’m with you, kid. Let’s go.’“ ~Maya Angelou

I’m so glad Maya Angelou got her stories down, that she left us with such a legacy of hope, encouragement, and the unbridled belief that ordinary people can chase down extraordinary dreams. This quote that she tossed out onto Twitter about a year before she passed continues to inspire me. It’s one of my favorites, and it’s the only place where she ever wrote it down.

It conjures up a mental image for me that’s empowering and action-oriented. The very best helping hands we have are at the ends of our own arms. Use them. Build the life you want. Yes, you can do this.

creativity

In the pause: Some thoughts on the terrorism in New York City

Christa Avampato

I’ve waited to post my thoughts and feelings about the act of terrorism that happened in New York City last week. Honestly, I didn’t have any words. When I worked at Amex, my office was right there. I walked that stretch of road countless times in the four years I was there. I have wonderful friends who still work there.

On Tuesday, I started getting texts and social media messages asking if I was okay. I work in midtown now, and found out about the news via Twitter as so many people across the country and across the world did. I was physically fine, and extremely sad this had happened. Especially in my city that I love so much.

The piece that really gets me is that the people who were hurt and killed weren’t doing anything inherently dangerous. They were just living their lives. Going about their business at 3pm on a Tuesday. It was just an ordinary day like any other day until it wasn’t.

All I can really think to say is that not a single one of us chooses what happens to us moment to moment. Life’s here and it’s gone, and so often it’s through absolutely no fault of our own. There’s nothing we can do to prevent it. We are always teetering right on the edge of existence whether we choose to realize it or not.

My heart breaks and my eyes tear up in memory of those people who left our city on Tuesday, and to everyone who knew them and loved them. Their loss is our loss, as a city and as a nation. I didn’t know any of them personally though I will honor their memory by living my best life every day.

creativity

In the pause: What would be the title of your autobiography?

Christa Avampato

It’s daunting to think about what you’d title your autobiography, right? How do you sum up a life in one line? Let’s try.

I love tough challenges and I’m happiest on a vertical learning curve. If I had to pick one phrase to describe myself it would be “endlessly curious.” As such, the title of my autobiography would be I’ll Figure It Out: The Christa Avampato Story.

What would be the title of your autobiography?

creativity

In the pause: You are in bloom

Christa Avampato

“Don’t be so scared. My love, this is how you bloom.” ~ Evan Sanders, The Better Man Project

The process of becoming is uncomfortable, even painful. It requires so much stretching and reaching and growing. In the short-term, it feels safer and easier to keep our dreams and spirits small. Over time, that safety, ease, and comfort have a hefty price tag; they rob us of who we’re meant to be and the goals we’re meant to reach.

I’m in the midst of a big leap now. And though I didn’t choose the timing, I did choose the path. I put the wish out into the world, and the world responded. The response wasn’t what I expected but it did open the way that I needed to make my path a reality.

And so, here we go. Onto the twisting, uncharted road where I can only see just a few feet in front of me. I know the very next step, but not the one after that. Sometimes the fear, uncertainty, and stress feel overwhelming. And at those times, there’s always someone who says, “You’re going to be okay.” So I keep going. And blooming. I hope you will, too.

 

creativity

In the pause: It’s okay to collapse

Christa Avampato

“For a star to be born, there is one thing that must happen: a gaseous nebula must collapse. So collapse. Crumble. This is not your destruction. This is your birth.” ~Zoe Skylar

We work so hard to keep things, even ourselves, from falling apart. Somehow we have managed to associate becoming undone with being completely done, forever. Don’t be ashamed of your undoing or your failure, your missteps or your losses. This is a cycle of life – catching and releasing, holding on and letting go, rising up and falling down. There’s so much to be learned and experienced in the collapse. There you can rest, restore, and rebuild. Wiser, braver, stronger, more focused, and with the knowledge that no matter what life throws at you, you will find a way to shine.

creativity

In the pause: How to destroy all your demons

Christa Avampato

“Do not just slay your demons; dissect them and find out what they’ve been feeding on.” ~ The Man Frozen in Time

Even the most well-adjusted, confident, and kind people have occasional thoughts and feelings in which they feel less-than. I don’t need to look any further than my mirror to find someone who fits that bill. And while I can play the game of fake it ’til I make it with the best of them, the most effective treatment I’ve found is to really get at the root of my own negative self-talk. Hack away at that root, and there is so much more freedom and joy that gets unlocked.

For example, whenever I’m searching for a new job opportunity, I read the role description and if I don’t fit one bullet my first reaction is to move on. I’ve learned that this is a direct result of my inner perfectionist (which causes plenty of other challenges for me, but let’s just stick to this one for now.) If I can’t do something 99.9% perfectly, I’m obsessing about that 0.1%.

As an adult, I’ve learned to constantly put myself in the role of being a beginner to counter this. Along the way, I have grown my skill sets, met incredible people, traveled to stunning places, and dare I say it, become a recovering perfectionist. I don’t know that I’m ever going to completely get rid of that perfection instinct, but I do know that I control it now and it doesn’t control me. I’ve learned to congratulate myself for trying something new, even when it’s a complete disaster. I’ve learned to be my own best cheerleader and my own best company. I’ve learned to value my strengths and to no longer fear failure.

And as for those job applications, I send them off. I don’t take myself out of the running for anything that sounds interesting to me. My friend, Brooke, once told me years ago that we are all born knowing nothing. We all start at zero. We learn everything we need to learn just by going through life . And that process never stops, so why stop ourselves? Now that’s what I call slaying a demon and then eating its lunch.

creativity

Wonder: Ladies, we’re being judged. And that’s a good thing. Here’s why.

Christa Avampato

Tell me if this sounds familiar. You’re single: “When are you going to find someone?” In a relationship: “When are you getting married?” Married: “When are you having kids?” Divorced: “Just couldn’t make it work, huh?” Have a child: “When are you having a second?” Have multiple kids: “Well, forget about ever doing anything fun for the next 10 years.” I know this happens to women all the time. Maybe it happens to men, too. I can only speak from personal experience that this constantly happens to me.

Here’s what I know to be true: people are judging you every second of every day and it has nothing to do with you and everything to do with them. If you choose to live your life differently than others, if you make different choices, they assume that your life is somehow a judgement on theirs.

But here is the good news: you are being judged, many times unfairly, so you might as well live exactly the life that you want. Somewhere along the way in the development of our social norms, commenting on someone’s politics or religion became off-limits and commenting on someone’s love life remained hopelessly free game.

My advice to you (and to myself): if they are asking a respectful, tastefully worded question based in true curiosity, fabulous. Let’s have a conversation. You know someone I should meet, great. Please connect us.

However, if they are rudely passing judgement and making you feel small because of your circumstances and choices, then please, in no uncertain terms, walk away. They are not your work to do. I’m serious. You are a gorgeous, talented, stunning human being, and anyone who tries to belittle you because of your life choices doesn’t deserve your time.

Smile, get up, and walk away. You have better things to do and better people to do them with. Insults and rude behavior are never acceptable. In 2017, I hope we can all experience a greater sense of decorum in all of our interactions. In the meantime, go live your best life and leave those judgements right where they belong—with the people who make them.

creativity

Wonder: You are the universe

Christa Avampato

You are the universe in ecstatic motion.
You are the universe in ecstatic motion.

“Stop acting so small. You are the universe in ecstatic motion.” ~Rumi

How many times have you wondered if you’re good enough for a job, a person, or just something wonderful? Understand this: you are enough. You are so much more than enough. Forget about being too young or too old for something. Forget about your regrets and self-doubt and fears. That thinking doesn’t serve you. You’re better than that. You’ve always been better than that. Now go get the life you want, the whole life you want, because that’s exactly what you deserve.