A whole lot of nothing

So, I’ve obviously gotten out of the habit of writing. It’s okay, though. It’s been so chaotic, I haven’t had the energy. Or time to do much of anything. There have been more trips to the hospital than I can count, and I’ve been getting sicker and weaker. Fortunately, I have finally been able to start on my keto diet. It’s frustrating as Hell, and I still have a lot to learn. I have always been such a food person, and now it feels like I know nothing at all when it comes to food. I have a few recipes and there are several old dishes that can be altered a little

I’ve practically been living on the sofa, lately. I’ve just been so sick. I hope above hope that the upswing will be starting soon. The ex-husband is in ICU due to a malfunctioning insulin pump and obscenely high blood sugar levels. I’m hoping that Violet doesn’t start getting stressed out over all of this. The poor kid has had to see me go into the hospital on an almost regular basis, and then all I can do when I get home, is sleep. I like the sleeping part, but I know Violet doesn’t like any of it.

I seem to have gotten myself stuck. Everything is gray and lifeless. At least, that’s how it looks to me, right now. It’s like I’m slowly disappearing and I’m running out of anchors to cling to. I’ve been watching the Secret and hilarious cartoons to keep my heart from getting too heavy. Methinks I need to find some quiet time in nature very soon. I need to go and purge the noise in my head. I’m not sure when or how, but I am going to get a camping trip in very soon. Maybe nature will help me recenter myself and become more accepting of my surroundings. Until I can make my escape, perhaps I can lose myself to the scent of petrichor here and there to keep me sane. <3

What can happen in a year...

I knew it had been some time since I last blogged about anything. Still, I was a bit surprised to discover how long. So much has happened. So much has changed, I’m not even quite sure where to begin. I’m still doing chemotherapy and have just started on two new types, intravenously. I’m bald, with a giant tattoo on my head. Yes, I said tattoo on my head. So, I suppose I should start there.

I decided that since I was going to have to be bald again, I should make the best of it. I’d seen pictures of cancer patients getting elaborate henna tattoos and decided that a little cranial décor might just suit me. This was during the time in which I was really focused on manifesting good into my life, mainly with the intention of completing my Reike Master training in Mt. Shasta on a retreat that would be sure to change my life.

Financially, the retreat was looking rather bleak. I had no idea how I was going to raise the funds I’d need to attend, but I set my energy toward it anyhow. I had to be there. I had waited and learned, chasing my mastery for several years with many disruptions and setbacks. It was time to finish the journey. This is where inspiration for my tattoo came in. I felt something related to the crown chakra would be perfect with what I was aiming to achieve. I’m not sure at what point I decided to go from henna to permanent ink, but when I did, it felt perfect. It felt right. My next task was to find an artist and get a price so I could start raising the money I’d need. At some point, on the retreat side of things, an anonymous sponsor who had heard my story came forward and funded half of what I’d need for the retreat. I was floored. It meant so much that someone out there, whom I’d never met (to my knowledge, anyhow), cared and believed in me enough to do such a thing.

I was blessed in the tattoo department as well. Almost as soon as I made my first Facebook post asking for advice on where to go, I was gifted the work from the wonderful Jeremiah “Gingerbeard” Beale out of Holdfast Tattoo in Seaside. He and his wonderful wife have come through for me in other beautiful ways, too.

Things came together. My sponsor ended up funding my trip in full, and in two sessions, my tattoo was completed with only a few weeks until my training. Mt. Shasta and my training turned out to be a monumentally important and beautiful journey. Even with all that’s happened since then, I’m immensely grateful for the experience and always will be.

Shortly after returning home, I had to go in to see a dermatologist about some strange marks on my abdomen. A sample was taken, and after a nervous wait, I was informed that it was more breast cancer…it had spread to my skin. This information knocked me back, to say the least. I had just returned from a profound, life-altering, spiritually powerful retreat and training. I knew things would be different when I returned home, and they were. I was different…I’d been split in two. I had emerged from my experience as a fully trained healer, and my cancer was spreading at the same time.

I went through radiation treatment for it. My discolored abdomen was covered with silver dollar-sized blisters. I actually went to Faerieworlds with bandages beneath my corsets. Ironically, the compression helped my burn tremendously!

Any further pursuits involving Reike had to be placed on hold, as it was apparent that my health needed to once again take center stage. The next several months are a tumultuous blur. There were several hospital stays, changes in medications, and a dangerous drop in weight. My personal life suffered a serious blow when my father rejoined Facebook.

I won’t go into too much detail, but after his behavior became abusive, I started to relive the hell of my childhood and all the abuse he put me through. Looking at all the years I just wanted him to love me for who I am, I’ve had to come to the conclusion that he never will. At least this time he was dumb enough to share his abusive comments publicly on Facebook, so all my friends and family could see it. I have not read his nasty tear-down as I was strongly encouraged not to. I did receive a few screen shots of the comments left and updates from Jesse and a couple of others. I got the “highlights”, if you will. It’s nice to know my dad thinks I’m so worthless and that I should give up on “reaching for the brass ring”, no adventures, no getting help. I should just wait at home to die; this all being communicated between insults and false statements. My father thought he could tear me down on a public forum, but I’ve come long way from that frightened child he used to scream at and belittle because I had an independent way of thinking, and a vagina. I spent a few days crying and spewing rage at the walls before coming to the conclusion that he had to be eliminated from my life completely and permanently. It’s been a few months, and I haven’t had any contact. The more time that passes, the more I feel that it was the right decision.

Time since then has been largely spent on a roller coaster. I’ve been in and out of the hospital quite a bit, and my mother is staying with us for a few months to help me stabilize. I recently dropped to 108 pounds. My normal weight is 130-135. Needless to say, things were scary for a while but I feel they’re improving. I managed to work my way back up to 120lbs and I’m currently working on getting to 130. I’m on two chemotherapy drugs, one week on, one week off. I’ve also recently been seeing a naturopathic oncologist along with my regular doctors. My insurance doesn’t cover it, so I’m having to raise the money to do it. My mom has been helping a lot. I’m slowly implementing some lifestyle changes. One of those was to step away from my beloved Krav Maga. It hurts like you wouldn’t believe. I feel like a piece of my heart has been ripped out and kicked across the street during rush hour.

Tonight, as I sit in a dark room at Legacy Hospital in Salmon Creek, I am having to make more decisions about my treatment that are very emotionally taxing for me. The cancer has returned to my skin, and it has spread. The fluid around my right lung is rebuilding at an alarming rate, so it looks like I’ll be having a small drainage tube in my body, so I can drain it at home and stay out of the hospital so much. Do I want this? No. No, I do not. When these changes take place, it feels like the cancer is fighting back and it scares me. I had a couple of good cries today.

Things have definitely become strange. I’ve become that sick person that no one wants to visit. I’ve had a few people come by on occasion, but for the most part, people tell me to contact them if I need anything. So when I started reaching out for help, I was met with the sound of crickets. I’m trying not to take it personally. People have busy lives and I know that seeing a formerly healthy person so weak with cancer is scary and uncomfortable. It reminds them of their own mortality and let’s face it; that can be very uncomfortable and kind of scary. It was really depressing and hard to accept at first, but oddly enough, I’m becoming a lot more of a hermit. I’m enjoying the solitude more and more. A visit now and then is okay, but most days, I’d rather be left alone. The solitude has become my companion, my safety cave. I have my mom, Jesse, and Violet, and really that’s all I need. This may change at some point, I don’t know. Financially, things are a disaster. I’ve been too sick to make jewelry, but I think that is going to improve very soon.

So here we are: Jesse, Violet, my mom, and myself in a strange situation. I’m not sure what’s going to happen. I’m doing what I can to get better and they are trying to help. There are still a lot of changes to be made and I’ve got a lot of old wounds to heal. Mom is doing her job remotely from the living room, Jesse is going to school, and Violet is also in school, as well as the Boys and Girls Club, and karate. Keeping my girl in a routine is important right now. She needs structure, and I am doing all that I can to provide that for her. That child amazes me every day. She’s changed so much since starting in kindergarten. It’s almost like she’s someone else with how quickly she’s blossoming and I marvel at all that she is.

So yes, it’s been a year of many changes, and I’m sure it’s not over yet. I work very hard at being positive and invoking the Law of Attraction into my world. I still have my days, though. The anger and melancholy still manage to creep in and it throws me into a hopeless and painful depression. Just today, I had a good cry about it. I’m determined to live. I’m determined to raise my daughter. I must win this for her. However, some days, it feels like the Universe just wants to ty with me and beat me down. I was working so hard at becoming the person I want to be, and I was getting close. Then, out of nowhere cancer knocked me back with a critical blow. Sometimes I get so angry. I have never been one who likes to whine about things being unfair, but well; this is fucking unfair. There. I said it; and that being said, I think I’m going to take a much-needed rest and work on how to maneuver my way through this mess. Fair or not, there are still things I need to figure out and accomplish. Giving up isn’t an option, no matter how desperately I want to some days. So here I go, one step in front of the other, one day at a time. There’s a destination in the distance and I must get there. I must do it for Violet. She is everything to me, and I must see to it that she goes into life with the same confidence and strength I see in her every day (even when she’s being a butt, lol)! I just hope I can pull this off. I don’t have a choice.

Learning to Live

We’re closing in on a year and a half since my fateful diagnosis. Many things have changed since that day, as would be expected. The specifics of the changes, however, are not all going as I would have anticipated. Of course, there was the initial shock, rage, despair, what-have-you. Then I began to plan my treatment and how I wanted to handle my life as someone with an invisible timer ticking away above my head.  What was I going to do with “The time I have left?” How was I going to live with “incurable” cancer, and what was going to become of my daughter whose father is living in a health crisis as well?

That was the beginning. That was a mindset quite different from the one I have now. I’ve changed, because you can’t have that kind of bomb dropped on you without becoming drastically different in a lot of ways. I don’t see things the way I did in the beginning. I no longer see this as “terminal.” Many would say that makes me naïve or deluded, but they have no clue what the universe looks like from my angle. They don’t have my perspective.

In the beginning, I was looking for ways to cope. I joined a couple of support groups on Facebook. I shared what was happening openly, as I do with almost everything. I planned to remain at my job for as long as I could work, and I did stay there for a few months. I talked about “quality of life” and how I wanted to spend the time I had. I talked about not knowing how much there was left for me. It was all so bitter and bleak. It was all about dying and death. It was about giving up. It was about accepting my fate as opposed to chasing my destiny.

Well, I grew tired of “fate” rather quickly. All the sadness, death, and pain tasted so sour, I couldn’t keep swallowing it. I just couldn’t do “dying” anymore. I began to research and read. I began to think and ask questions. Since then, I have been learning more and more about how this doesn’t have to kill me and even if it does, it doesn’t have to be for a very very long time. I could easily live another twenty years or so with this, and Hell…I might even be able to eliminate it permanently. So many stories have come my way about people who have beaten the odds and healed from what they were told was not curable. I’ve been learning about alternative treatments and lifestyle changes. Above all, I’ve been learning about the depth and persistence of my own will. And that is what it boils down to: my will.

I’m not interested in dying. Not at this time, and not before I see Violet well into adulthood. There are things I want to do, places I want to see, experiences I want to get lost in. I just turned forty, and I feel like my life is just beginning. There’s a future out there that I want, and I’m going for it. I’ve been slowly implementing lifestyle changes, starting with my diet. I’m not quite that good at it yet, but I’m working on it. I take Rick Simpson Oil twice a day, and I’m always looking at new ideas. The most important part is that I’ve been changing the way I think. I’m shutting down what wants to shut me down. I’m taking words like “terminal”, “No cure,” and “dying” out of my vocabulary. See, that’s the thing. There ARE people who beat this. We just don’t hear of them as often because they aren’t nearly as common as the ones who don’t make it. Most people who are told they have an incurable disease just accept it. My brother accepted it and we lost him at the age of twenty-four. So many people hear that they are going to die, and it feels like they immediately rush right toward it, even though it’s something they dread.

I had to leave the support groups because it felt like that’s all the women in there would talk about. They would discuss “how much time” they had left and talked so much about dying. I couldn’t stomach it. I couldn’t swallow all that despair. I honestly do not believe that I’m dying. I do not believe that I have a terminal illness. Am I chronically ill? Sure, I can deal with that. I’ve been in and out of the hospital so much it would make your head spin. Yes, I’m sick, but that’s just right now. As I said, I am not interested in dying and I’m even less interested in letting others dictate the outcome, including my oncologist (even though I love her to bits). There are way too many people who seem to insist on referring to me as “terminally ill” or “dying” and it is not sitting well with me. Perhaps I’m being overly sensitive about it, but when it happens, I just find myself filling up with rage. I know it’s never meant to be hurtful and it comes from good people, but I can’t help feeling like I’m being rushed toward death by people who keep trying to put nails in my coffin with their words. I feel like they’re giving up on me.

If you’re one of those people and you’re reading this, I love you, but please...STOP. Stop calling me terminal. Stop seeing me as a victim wasting away. Stop putting nails in my coffin. Even if you truly believe that’s where I’m headed, I need you to understand that I don’t believe it and I don’t want to live like I’m dying. Those kinds of words do not help me at all. They make me feel like a living ghost in your life and that’s not what I want to be. I’m here. I’m alive. I’m working toward a future. I’ve made a contingency plan for Violet because no matter what, it would be irresponsible not to, but that’s as far as I’m letting the whole death business go.

I’m not here to die. I’m here to live, and the truth is, NO ONE has any idea how much time we have left. I’ve often said that I could be hit by a bus tomorrow, but I’m not going through every day expecting to become street pizza. I’m not dwelling on it so, why are you? I know I’m ill. I don’t need to be reminded. I have daily pain, exhaustion, and regular sickness to remind me of that. I don’t want to focus on that. I want to focus on the good. I want to raise my daughter. I want to go back to Krav Maga (which I’m hoping to do soon). I’m almost done earning my associate’s degree at Clark College and I want to go back and finish it. Maybe I’ll even go chasing my bachelor’s or higher. I haven’t decided yet. What I am learning from this is not how to bow out gracefully. I’m finally and honestly learning how to LIVE. Now, more than ever, I don’t have an excuse not to. Why would I want to waste it with thoughts of my demise? That just makes no sense.  

So please, if you love me, stop telling people that I’m dying. Stop calling me terminal. We all make our exit at some point and none of us knows when that will be. Let’s not waste any of it by dwelling on death. Now is the time to really and truly live.

Enjoying the Journey

To say I’ve become inconsistent with my writing would be an understatement. So much of my timeline is a blur these days. Perhaps that’s cause to write more. I would like a clear picture to look back on. As usual, there have been changes. Some of them quite large.

It’s been a nice stretch out of the hospital. The capecitabean (oral chemotherapy I was on) stopped working. I chose an intravenous method which has rendered me bald, once again. The day after my fourth cycle of this new drug, I was informed that my tumor marker had been knocked back over 50%...FIFTY PERCENT!!! That is amazing. That is huge! It has me living in possibility and gratitude! It has me planning for what I want the future to be.

We financed a car today. It’s a 2015 Volkswagen Passat. Gorgeous deep, sparkly gray. We had been hoping to avoid car payments, as our finances have been frightening as of late, and we were doubting anyone would work with us anyway. However, Jesse now has a little income, and my credit score has been going up bit by bit. We needed a reliable car, especially after my Taurus died a few days ago, I’m talking not worth the cost or trouble in repairs, two-ton paperweight. Jesse’s Jeep was in bad enough shape that fixing it was also going to cost more than we were prepared to spend. Fortunately, it had trade-in value, and Ron Tonkin was willing to work with us. Boom! Car. We drove it home today. It was certainly a bizarre experience. We walked in, were greeted kindly, and things really looked grim. I even puked during the test drive…into an empty coffee cup. Imagine my surprise when we qualified for a car with payments we can manage! Don’t get me wrong, I am beyond the realm of cautious. Jesse and I are both a little squeamish about it. It had been nice to pay off the Taurus and have no car payments for a couple of years. Still, this car is already a tremendous improvement to our life. It’s safe, it’s in fantastic shape, I could go on. It’s nice. After all we’ve been through, we deserve it.

It’s been becoming apparent to me that I’m living in what feels like a completely different realm of existence from those surrounding me. Here I am, with this serious illness, I just turned 40 (oh yes, that’s a thing that happened…February 6^th. I’m 40 now), I have an ex-husband, and a daughter. Why do I feel like my life is just beginning, sometimes? It’s like everything has been gearing me up for what’s happening now, or what’s soon to happen. I can’t quite describe it. I feel it, like light managing to peer down at you when you’re beneath the ocean. It’s that sliver, that crack, that flash of color that paints a sudden, possible future. The things I want seem closer now, and what’s better, is that I already have so many things I wanted that I can now be grateful for. Is it life with my wonderful Jesse that’s doing this to me? Is it the fountain of smiles and laughter, and beauty, that is my sacred, sacred daughter? It’s worth it. Everything has been worth it. It’s not perfect. In fact, it’s far from perfect, but it’s good. I have reasons to be happy and they are not getting lost on me as they once were. It’s fantastic and impossible to recount all the things I’ve learned and all the secret glimpses I’ve gotten of the universe. And I do see a future. I really do. 

Finding Focus

This time I came prepared!

Another trip to the hospital, via ambulance. This trip, I’m staying the night for observation. The pain in my esophagus only just subsided recently, and I was elated to see it go! That was some of the most intense and difficult pain I have experienced in my life. For a month, everything I ate or drank was like swallowing broken glass. Even with heavy narcotics and lidocaine, it was pure torture. I reached the point of not being able to eat more than one meal a day, and that was usually eaten slowly over a couple of hours. Almost every swallow had me pounding the wall or furniture with the side of my fist. I lost weight, and obviously Krav was out. Now that it has passed, I’m dealing with a strange and crazy sort of pain on my left side, stretching to my back and sometimes my chest and abdomen. We’re not sure what’s causing it, so here I am. Since my lengthy stay here in October, I have had to deal with some intense, continuous pain of one sort or another with only a couple of fleeting breaks.

I have been working very hard at changing the way I think; using positive thoughts, energy, and motivation to better my relationship with myself as well as work more harmoniously with the laws of the universe. The Law of Attraction states that what you focus on is what you get, whether it’s something you want or not. Now, this means practicing mindfulness with our thoughts and sticking to language and ideas that promote and bring about the things you want. It is also very important to practice daily gratitude. I’ve been getting rather good at it, except when the pain overwhelms me. That is where I’m struggling. Of course, it’s perfectly normal and okay to have a bad day once in a while, and as important as practicing positive ways of thinking and being is, allowing for occasional sadness, anger, discomfort, or even a healthy dose of self-pity once in a while are acceptable and important. However, it is vital not to dwell in those places. It is important to place focus on the positives and the wants over the negatives and don’t wants. We’ve all known that person who complains about everything all the time. And what typically happens to them? They keep getting what they complain about and then some. It’s a vicious cycle that continuously feeds itself and I’ve been stuck in it on more than one occasion. Many people would not blame me at all for being miserable and negative considering my current circumstances and the horrendous traumas leading to this point. But that’s not how I want to live or feel; not anymore.

My current situation puts me in an odd spot with my studies and practices concerning the Law of Attraction. I have already experienced a massive positive shift in my life, just by practicing daily gratitude and setting up positive intentions for each day. However, the longer I live in such severe physical pain, the more difficult it has become to focus on the positive. How do you focus on positive over pain when it is right there, forcing your body to feel it every day? How do you take the focus and energy away from something that is so intensely pervasive? I am not a wimp. I have an extremely high pain tolerance by this point, and there have been more times than I can count as of late, in which the pain had me crumpled in a ball, sobbing desperately for a break. I know I can get past this, but how do I practice gratitude when I’m suffering so? Don’t get me wrong, I still do my best. I still look at and think about the things I’m grateful for, but how do I cut off the pain’s energy supply? Am I just bringing more to me by letting it get to me? I’m so new to all of this. I know there’s an answer and a way to do this. I just hope I find it soon.

I suppose, though, the most positive thing I can take from all this pain is that I now know without a doubt, that I am one tough motherfucker. Growing up as a very shy, strange child, an “Ugly Duckling” if you will, and a meek one at that, there were two things I frequently focused on and asked the universe for. I always wanted to be beautiful and I always wanted to be strong. The beauty part is subjective where others are concerned, but I do finally see my own beauty and it’s taken my whole life. I am also strong. I may not be the strongest in the world, but I do know that I have more strength than most, and I’ve earned it. I’m not talking physical strength so much as strength of psyche and of spirit. Do I crumble at times? Oh Hell yes! I also insanely explode once in a blue moon. That’s okay, though. I believe that sometimes falling apart is the only way to build something better. So now that I’ve crumbled again, how do I most effectively use my focus? I hope the universe provides me with an answer soon. Until then, I’ll just keep trying and falling until eventually I’ll get that whole flying thing down. Then just watch…

Getting Up

Today (yesterday, since it's now past midnight) I completed my ten-day radiation course on my spine. It was bittersweet, much like last time. As I sit here awake, trying to soothe my burnt esophagus with cold chocolate almond milk and dilauded (poor thing got caught in the crossfire), I am missing the wonderful staff there. I even miss Seymour a little bit. My long-time readers might remember that Seymour is the name I gave the radiation machine.

"Feed me Seymour, feed me now..." ~Little Shop of Horrors

 One of the techs was from last time, and she remembered me which had me floored, since I have breasts (fake ones, but still) and hair now. Plus, that was a few YEARS ago. Jesse says I'm a memorable person, but that's been a difficult one for me to grasp with my history of being an ugly duckling and feeling invisible most of my life. It was good to see her again, despite the circumstances, and the other techs were amazing as well. I'm really going to miss them, but mostly I’ll miss Dr. Siddiqui. Our interactions have been brief, but very meaningful. He’s not just a good doctor, but a genuinely good human being with a lovely soul and we have the best conversations! I’m sure there will be a checkup or two with him at some point. It will be nice to get to say hello.

There is a stereo in the radiation room, which I could hook my phone into. This time around, I was drawn to Wardruna. The drums, the chants, the sounds of Earth, the magic of their songs…this is what I needed as Seymour rotated his great head around my body sending radiation from beneath and then above me. Where I suppose many would feel weak and drained by the experience, I felt empowered. I felt alive. Music has always been magic to me. While I am in no way religious, I consider myself to be a deeply spiritual person, and music is one of the things my soul rejoices in the most. My time with Seymour and the techs became an almost spiritual practice with Wardruna guiding the ceremony. It was a strange sort of beautiful. What was strange about today was that one song in particular, my phone chose to play twice. This has never happened before, so naturally I took it as something I need to pay attention to. I believe deeply in the little messages the universe sneaks in. The lyrics are all in Norse, so I looked up the translation of this specific song. I’m not sure how it applies to my situation other than the fact that I believe in dwarves and other fair-folk. “Warrior” is also a title given to me by many, and I’m learning to embrace it. And hey, who doesn’t love to party with a little ale, huh? I shall have to delve deeper into Norse studies, which I already have an interest in.

“Beneath dwarfs of the hall

Swells sound to its sides

Between table rows

Dance of fire passing for the vent

Flickers in eyes,

They steal glances at skirts

Where warriors sit

cheerful in the beer-hall

Drinking toasts from the ale-bowls

the bard strikes his strings

The dice its silent chant

Your fortune and fate

Where warriors sit

cheerful in the beer-hall

Pertho is a bottomless source

of fun and games

Where warriors sit

cheerful in the beer-hall”

Even though I’ve only just returned, I chose not to attend any Krav Maga training this week. I had forgotten how very exhausting radiation is, and with regular pain meds on top of that I was absolutely wiped. I’m learning to listen to my body and sometimes it tells me I need to rest. So rest, I did…sort of. There has also been a frenzy of reorganizing and moving furniture in the apartment. I have also been busying myself with delving fully and deeply into the study and practice of using the Law of Attraction as introduced to me in “The Secret” documentary and a couple of the corresponding books. So far, it seems that the most important part of getting the Law of Attraction to work in my favor means continuously practicing and expressing gratitude. And you know what? Call me crazy here, but…it seems to be working! The more grateful I am for things, the more things seem to be going my way! Am I “out of the woods” yet? Does it matter? I’m on a journey, an adventure! So, I have stage 4 metastatic breast cancer. So, I have PTSD. So what! Those things are not who I am! Most of my life has felt like a complete shit-show, but that doesn’t matter anymore. In fact, I’m grateful for it. I’m grateful for the lessons, as they have served to temper my steel. I am finally accepting the fact that I am an incredibly resilient person and one of the strongest you might meet. This doesn’t mean I never crumble. Strong people crumble, and then we get back up. I have always gotten back up and I always will. This time, added to my quiver is the arrow of gratitude to shoot into the darkness of doubt and fear. I am ready, I am getting up, I am grateful, and I am fierce.

Poor hand positioning here, but this was after three months of no Krav and two weeks in the hospital

One Year

It was a year ago, today that I sat in a small room in my oncologist’s office sobbing, as I was told there is no cure. The horrible news I had received in the emergency room just a couple of nights before was confirmed. My cancer was back and I was now stage four. Jesse and Violet were in the waiting room as I shook with horror and near-disbelief. How could this happen? I was in remission! I had been cancer-free for over three years! I was better! Since then, I’ve learned a lot about breast cancer and even more about myself.

This past year has been nothing short of tumultuous. Much of it has been documented herein. I had originally intended to write a book, but inspiration has been lacking as of late. Right now, I’m just trying to get through each day, replacing negative with positive, retraining my brain to think differently. I’ve been working on a new diet, one that is supposed to help combat the cancer, but with Jesse out of work, I haven’t been able to afford it. I know that’s a temporary thing (as everything in life is temporary, even life itself), so I’m taking it to mean that until that is resolved, I just need to work harder on my positive thinking. A big part of that has been about returning to Krav Maga. I believe I missed about three months, which was a devastating blow to my mental health. My PTSD began to rear its ugly head and every day was a fight with my own psyche. While I knew that creating and maintaining a positive mental space is essential to my survival, when physical pain becomes a daily occurrence, it’s a lot more work and you fall down a lot more often. Since the cancer has grown in its existing locations and spread to my intestines, I’ve had to rely on heavy narcotics daily and I started radiation on my spine just last Thursday. I am currently in the middle of my week off from chemotherapy, so the sickness hasn’t been as severe. Mornings are still hard, but I’ve been playing “The Secret” on Netflix almost daily and that helps me turn things around most of the time.

Last Wednesday evening was my return to Krav. Mr. Eric was awesome as usual, and since the class was odd, I had two partners and I adore them both. My instructors, classmates, and East West Martial Arts in general, have all been extremely supportive and encouraging in all of this. It was like returning home. There are more limits to what I can do than there were before my spine started hurting, but radiation will knock that down and training regularly will build me back up. I need it. Krav Maga has become one of the most powerful tools I have against depression and PTSD. I’ve noticed that the longer I go without, the worse everything else seems to get. When I go regularly, I can function. And so, I have resolved not to allow that kind of absence again. I can’t afford it, though I have scaled back to basic classes until my spine has improved. Mr. Eric agrees that it’s a good idea.

I’m in an odd place, mentally and emotionally. As I learn to balance my energies and build positive thoughts, I have been experiencing a sort of yo-yo effect. There’s a lot of back and forth almost daily, but I know that with practice and mindfulness, it will get easier. Terrible things are happening in the world and in America lately (insert rant about the devastating election and its results here), which weighs heavy on empaths like myself. We feel EVERYTHING and when explosive emotions happen on such a large scale, it’s like being bombarded from all sides and it gets so very heavy. I’ve had to really watch that. It can destroy my entire day if I’m not mindful. I also lost a “friend” recently because he/she did not agree with a choice I made regarding the use of my daughter’s image on a t-shirt. That stung badly until I could absorb the situation completely and come to terms with the fact that this person simply wasn’t who I had raised him/her up to be in my head. Then I could analyze it for what it was and realize that the problem was not with me but with the other person and that he/she isn’t worth that kind of upset. I cannot afford to let the judgments of others impact my happiness. As an empath, this is vital to my survival. Even further, I do not intend to just survive. I intend to thrive. 

So Seymour...we meet again.