Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Mother May I? Yes You May.

It is not something you learn overnight, giving yourself permission to get really angry.  It seems so wasteful and self-pitying and dramatic, but I am learning its place and value.  Especially when you are in a fight.  I feel guilty when I get angry; years of obedient nice girl training I guess.  Protecting others from my feelings and my power.  I am feeling guilty about this stage I am in, and my usual nature would be to hide this from you.  Play the brave soldier or just tell you about the happy Snow White things.  I am very good at the happy Snow White things.

One of the why's when I decided to write my blog, was to give a raw and candid look at facing and dealing with a breast cancer diagnosis and its treatment.  Come What May.  There are times when honoring that commitment to myself is very difficult.  I'd rather write about things that make you feel good or inspired or make you laugh, like when the butterfly landed on my head.  If I edited myself though, I would not be telling you this story as it is and I think something really valuable would be lost.  The truth.

It is challenging though, being so self-centered and self-focused when you aren't used to that.  I struggle with those moments when I sit down to write and I think "nobody wants to read about this anymore, nobody wants to hear this stuff anymore, especially not the bad stuff."  I have to take a deep breath and stop thinking about you and think once again about me, and so I write another post.

I am doing this for me.

I do appreciate those who have come along for the ride as my fan club.  I really do.  I know you are there.

It feels as if I am entering a solitary place now, like when Christ entered the desert.  I suppose I will be confronting my dark side and temptations there.  My weaknesses.  Taking account of myself.

Some days I view this whole cancer thing as random.  An aberration.  An environmental hazard.

Other days this cancer becomes a metaphor.  Was I placed on this specific journey?  Or is the journey random and only becomes the metaphor as I deal with it?

I guess I will never know the answers to any of that.  This has never stopped me from asking and seeking the answer.  This is not always a good thing.

Is it better to question and look for meaning?  Or better to accept and place no meaning?

I don't know.

I do know I feel happiest when I keep it simple.  Like this.

Today I had lunch with Baby Bear.  I was a few minutes early, and since the salon where Goldenwings works is very close, I popped in to say hi.  She did not recognize me when I first walked in, then saw it was me in my wig, and we squealed.  We talked a minute and held hands and she gave me a brush for my wig, and I felt happy.

I walked to meet Baby Bear, and waited for her at the tea room.  Our table for two was set and ready to go for tea service, and had a lovely pink rose still tight in bud on the table.  Baby Bear arrived.  I have missed her presence since Batman has been on tour.  We talked like girls, and drank a tea called "Blue Lady," a black tea with coconut, strawberry and kiwi.  It was delicious.  I like sugar and cream in my tea.  We shared a delicious lemon cheesecake for dessert.

You have a beautiful face Baby Bear, your eyes are exotic and sad and I enjoy your company.  Will you teach me how to put eyeliner on like you do?  I never learned that.  I'd like to.  Baby Bear said she will come over and we can watch the Twilight movies together.  I'd like that to. 

This is what I mean.  Keeping it simple.  Keeping it happy.  Creating your happiness.  Yeah sure, the cancer stuff was still there waiting for me, but for awhile I forgot about it.  I took a picture of Baby Bear and I; I had my wig on.  We looked happy.  We were.  For awhile I forgot about it.  Maybe there were things she forgot about too.

I suppose there are always things in life that make you angry and sad and anxious.  There will always be tragedies and challenges.  No one is without these. 

Can I find a way to savor and be grateful for the moments of contentment and peace whenever they present themselves?

This usually comes so easy to me.  So easy.  I suppose now though is when it really counts.  Now is when I put my money where my mouth is.

Do I really believe in grace?

Despite this serious challenge, can I still find a way to savor and be grateful for the moments of contentment and peace whenever they present themselves?

There is a place for crying out about the why why why of the bad that comes in life.

I would just like to sing louder about the good things than the crying I do about the bad, no matter how loud the bawling and cursing gets.

Kitty called me today, my chemo nurse.  Just checking on me, wondering if I'd had a better week.  Yup.  Physically much better.

Hello mentally not so much.

Mother May I?  Yes You May.  You must.

Today is another day I showed up and kept on writing and telling you the truth.

Every time I do that lately, it is a victory.

Thanks for being there with the light on, waiting for me.

Here's to singing louder than the crying and the cursing.  That is who I would like to be.



1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Here's to singing louder than the crying and the cursing . . . what a perfect vision. I can't believe no one responded to that. That is who I want to be too. I want the damn cancer to teach me how to love more deeply. To teach both my husband and I to communicate more intimately. To appreciate one another more fervently. Can cancer do that? I suppose it could if the singing is louder than the crying and the cursing. I hope my chemo brain will let me remember this. It is one of your best and most succinct thoughts I've read so far. Love you writergirldreams. Love you.

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