And another thing

I've already written a blog post today but my brain is full of with things I want to say and these days I find myself rushed to get everything out and said before I forget it because believe me, I will forget it.

I want to say that there are things in my life I'm doing to get better, even if I do seem hateful and mean and angry and bitter. I don't think it represents a place of healing but I realized if I were to be facing the end of my life there are things I would feel bad for not having done or tried. It isn't a bucket list, it's me spending time investing in myself. If you invest in yourself it means you have hope for the future right?

I'm taking guitar lessons. I'm lousy at it. I don't think the lessons are very fun and I kind of dread them every week but I still want to learn to play. It's hell on the fingers, especially when you are suffering from hand-foot syndrome.

I signed up to take a bread baking class at the King Arthur Flour baking school. I've wanted to for years but could never find a time to do it. I'll take a whole week off next month and spend my vacation time up to my eyeballs in carbohydrate deliciousness.

Last weekend we went away to the mountains and I bought a whole bushel full of apples. I spent the last few days canning them. I must believe I'll still be around for a while if I'm going to make 2 dozen jars of apple butter when I'm the only one in my house that likes it. I guess that means I think I'll be around long enough to eat it.

My husband bought me a Peleton bike for my birthday and I let him. No...I encouraged him. Y'all just don't realize how cheap I am. That kind of expense about took my breath away. I justified that it will last me until forever... and when I said it I truly meant that to mean years and years. I love spinning. I'm enjoying something I enjoy.

Still here

I hate this blog. It hurts my feelings and makes me reflect on myself in ways I would rather avoid. Sometimes I forget that I've written something and I will come here and reread it and it will rip at scabs I didn't even know were starting to heal. Did I really feel that way in that moment?... I suppose I did.

It helps me to write these words even when I hate what they say about me. It's a form of therapy. I'm not in therapy though I'm not opposed to it. I don't think I'm ready for therapy. Therapy is about moving forward right? About finding ways to cope and move on... I'm not there yet. I'm still here picking at scabs.

On reflection

I passed the year mark. I did it. I have not been one year cancer free but I have been one year living a life I knew I would hate and doing it anyway.

I don't hate my life. I hate the circumstances I am living in. Do you watch the Handmaid's Tale? Do you remember that scene where Offred was talking about reduced circumstances? That's how I feel. My circumstances have been reduced. I am no longer free to live with careless abandon and freedom. I am smaller. My world is more limited. I know too much. Have seen too much. But there are things that I can still be grateful for. I have hot coffee...a cupcake for lunch...music that makes me want to dance and books that make me want to cry...today the wind is blowing so hard I stood outside in it and imagined that it could blow my very soul free of the burdens of my body.

2 more cycles of chemo to go. Will I always be this tired? I hope not.

The things we do to ourselves

I have never really admitted to anyone, not even my doctors, how long I went knowing something was wrong before I said anything. Or how long before that I had noticed something was kind of off but I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was so I didn't really say anything.

I never admitted how long I put off making the appointment and how many times I nearly cancelled it because I was worried that I was being an alarmist. How stupid or guilty I would feel for making a big to do over something that was probably nothing. How I didn't want to spend the money on the copays or it was a huge inconvenience to get the time off of work when we were in our busy season and getting someone to cover for me would have made me look bad.

I was diagnosed in October 2018. I first "felt" the lump in June of 2018. More than a year prior to that I was in the shower and thought, is that a lump? but then if I moved my arm in a different direction I didn't really feel it anymore... and if I stood in front of a mirror and raised my arms there would be a sort of crease under my left nipple that wasn't on the right and I'd think...has that always been there? And eventually the crease that was only there when I lifted my arms was always there no matter how I held my arms and if I stood a certain way that maybe lump was actually a lump so I just stopped standing that way while doing self exams.

I was a diligent self examiner. I've had a lot of boyfriends and a couple husbands but no one has ever touched my breasts as much as I do. I knew my breasts. But when I felt something I kept my mouth shut. I knew better. I honest to god knew better and I did it anyway.

I think about this a lot. I think about the ways I talk myself out of advocating for myself. I am the first to accept a cop out. A nonsense answer by a physician to a statement or complaint and even if I know they are feeding me BS I will nod my head right along and go with the flow. Don't be an alarmist Stephanie. Don't be a drama queen, Stephanie. Don't be that patient that everyone hates, Stephanie.  Do we, as women, all do this to ourselves? So programmed towards focusing on others and not being the cause of strife or stress in our households, we are willing to forfeit our lives in the process.

This may well be something I carry to the grave without ever being able to say it out loud. I nearly cost myself a chance at living.