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By Christine Watkins<\/strong>I was raised in an anti-religious home, and I did not like Christians. I was never going to be one\u2014of that much, I was sure. In my youth, I perfected the fine art of worrying and suffered from low self-esteem and mild depression. I did find joy, though, in ballet and practiced it diligently for years with such commitment and passion that I ended up dancing professionally with the San Francisco Ballet Company. At age seven, I had decided I was going to be a professional ballet dancer. I was going to dance until approximately age forty. Ballet was my destiny. Nothing else even remotely satisfied me.<\/p>\n
Not having been raised in a religion, I did not know there was a God; so, for me, ballet quickly became my personal god. At the height of my dancing abilities and fully in love with my profession, I suffered from foot injuries and had three foot operations. This ended my career and took way the only god I ever knew. Devastated, I grew depressed, lost my identity and my hope.<\/p>\n
In my sadness, I looked for comfort in intimate relationships and sank ever deeper into a mire of sin. I felt temporarily filled with life when I was in a relationship, but when things failed\u2014as they inevitably did\u2014I was left with an even larger, empty, dark and lonely hole within me. Always searching outside myself for something to make me happy, I never truly felt a sense of inner peace. I did not think of changing my behavior, and, one fateful summer, I ended up with cervical cancer. I had approximately six weeks to live. My hair was falling out; I was bleeding internally and vomiting often. With no energy, I often collapsed with fatigue. Worst of all, I felt sick inside my soul. At times, I called out in guttural despair. At times, I could not stop crying once I started.<\/p>\n