Written by Sara Olsher

I left my ex-husband when my daughter was 18 months old, and our divorce was a DOOZY. Basically everything in the google search results for “coparenting with a narcissist” applied to our situation, and I honest-to-god NEVER thought it would improve. I figured the “successful” co-parenting stories applied to other people. As it turns out, time heals many wounds, especially if you’re willing to surrender to the process and accept that you’re doing the best you can do.

My primary worry during my divorce was my daughter, who was showing signs of severe anxiety and who I worried would be scarred for life by our divorce. I spent years running through my savings to protect her and pay for therapy for both of us, barely making ends meet from my marketing job in San Francisco.

Life wasn’t perfect by any means, but by 2017 I felt like I’d managed to control as much as I could. I’d finally met a nice man and we were getting more serious. And then, at 4pm on a Friday afternoon, my entire life changed in an instant when I was diagnosed with cancer. 

As anyone who has gone through a horrible divorce and doesn’t entirely trust their ex can relate to, my first thought was, “how in the hell am I going to do this?” A vision popped into my head of my daughter’s tearful face at my funeral. Her biggest fear in life was losing me. I am her special person, her safe place. If I worried that divorce would scar my daughter for life, cancer was way worse. A world where I died and left my daughter with her father full-time was NOT an option for me.

The next year of my life was the longest of my life. I went in for a double mastectomy, thinking the cancer was early stage, but when I woke up, I learned it had spread. I was put through a long treatment protocol including chemo, multiple surgeries, and radiation.

In the depths of chemo, I was so exhausted I couldn’t even think straight, and my body hurt so much that taking a walk around the neighborhood was nearly impossible. I worried that my daughter, who was primarily cared for by my mom and my boyfriend (who really stepped up, to put it mildly), was feeling more and more disconnected from me every day.

During my good days on chemo, when things didn’t feel so dark, I felt better – positive, even. I would write about my experience on social media, and try to think of ways to make our lives less chaotic so my daughter wouldn’t be so stressed by the daily confusion about who would be dropping her off and picking her up at school, or by the uncertainty of my ever-changing energy levels.

What surprised me was how thankful I was to be divorced at that time. Initially I was annoyed by my ex-husband, who seemed to make my diagnosis about himself. But after awhile, I realized I was too tired to care about what he said or did anymore, and I let it go. It felt like setting down 150 pounds. Strangely, I found that once I stopped caring, his behavior changed and he became much easier to deal with, mostly switching weekends according to my chemo schedule without a lot of complaining. Co-parenting at that time meant that my daughter was able to spend time with her dad when I was recovering from surgery or a bad weekend after chemo. I think being able to have some space from my treatment was helpful for her.

I also realized that I had a purpose on this earth, and I clung to that. You see, after my divorce I’d started a “side gig” making magnetic calendars to help kids of divorce understand when they’d see each parent, which made a HUGE difference in my daughter’s anxiety (and thus, mine). During my divorce, that business continued to light me up. I got emails from parents thanking me for creating this “ingenious” calendar, telling me that their kids lives were so much better now. 

I wished for a way to make cancer easier. Because as awful as that divorce was, it was nothing compared to cancer.

But a big problem like cancer had to have a big solution. I was so miserable, and my daughter was so miserable . . . and I didn’t know how to fix it, because it was too big to fix. I was overwhelmed.

And then I realized that the answer was right in front of me the whole time. Sometimes, it’s not about fixing things. Sometimes, it’s about one simple solution that sets the foundation for everything else. For connection and peace and security.

I made a calendar. 

Much like that “ingenious” custody calendar for kids, I took all the pieces of our overwhelming lives and made them into little buttons that fit on a magnetic calendar. I created buttons for days when I’d be feeling tired, and when I’d be feeling better, for all of my doctor’s appointments and radiation and school drop-offs and pick-ups. And I created a bunch of buttons for easy, quiet activities we could do together, so she could decide how we could spend time together.

I took something incredibly complicated and made it simple. And it brought both of us security and peace.

Every day, my daughter could check the calendar to see – where in the chemo cycle is mom? When will she start to feel better? What activity can I choose for us to do together?

This calendar was a gift. It was the gift of being able to connect with my child, even when I was exhausted. Of being able to see that even though today is a tired day, a good day is just around the corner. And with it is the opportunity to play cards, or do a craft, or watch a movie together.

Through my experience with cancer, I learned a lesson so deeply that it has become who I am. And that lesson is this: Making life more simple makes space for the things that really matter. It makes it so your brain isn’t preoccupied with keeping track of everything under the sun. And for connection with the people we love.