Finding Strength in Others

Cami Mawby ('23)

I became who I am today sitting on the edge of a hospital bed holding a bag of Crayola markers. The bliss of ignorance in my childhood protected me from the burdening fact that I could lose my father to a malignant brain tumor. At five years old, all I knew was that dad was in the hospital because of something called “cancer,” but I had no idea what that meant. My mom would drive me to see him every day. He managed to make hospital life seem luxurious. I thought it was fabulous that his bed was adjustable, nurses brought him food, and he had his own TV. My dad always encouraged me to ask questions. I pointed to the needles in his arms and asked if they hurt, and I was relieved to learn they weren’t causing him pain.

Every five-year-old has their favorite toy, but my top choice was usually a bag of markers. My dad instilled his own love of art in me. I began to draw on him in his bed, giving him various “tattoos”. And so, naturally, when one of the nurses came in to check up on my dad, I offered her a tattoo as well. Although this occurred 12 years ago, I still vividly remember the light blue bubble I drew on her arm and the appreciative smile she gave me afterward. There were a lot of smiles in that hospital room, something you don’t usually imagine. I didn’t know it back then, but these little moments of positivity helped my dad stay strong, and eventually win his battle against brain cancer.

My parents worked very hard to protect me. They protected me from the fact that I could have lost my father. They continued to protect me throughout my life, but as my teenage years approached, what I needed was protection from my own thoughts. I suffered immensely from anxiety; it plagued me on a daily basis. I struggled to be the bright little girl my parents knew. I began to suffer in school, sports, and most of all socially, all of which were areas I used to excel in. Every day was a battle, but luckily I still had my parents fighting for me. They supported my decision to begin seeing a therapist. I learned many methods to cope with my anxiety including drawing to relieve stress and controlling the stimulation around me. While I saw a lot of improvement, I still didn’t feel like myself.

During the summer before my senior year, I started taking antidepressants. Each week I felt myself 

settling down, little by little. When it came time for my senior retreat, Kairos, I was incredibly nervous. This retreat was largely social with a lot of built-in self-reflection time, two things that I feared greatly. Luckily with the assistance of medication, I was able to calm my restless thoughts and open my heart to this incredible experience. Through growing closer to my peers, I learned how many people were struggling like I was. I finally realized there was no need to worry because I was surrounded by good people. I began to see things the way I had when I was younger.

In that hospital room, I didn’t have a worry in the world thanks to the love and support from my parents. For years my anxiety told me that I was unworthy of love and that I had to shut people out to prevent heartache. With great endurance, I broke through the wall my anxiety had built. Allowing others into my heart and truly accepting their love has completely changed me. I realized true happiness comes from the little things, like sharing bubble tattoos with the ones you love. While I no longer romanticize hospital life, I am incredibly grateful for lifelong healing and blessings.