One of the hardest, most deeply troubling things about breast cancer is the impact it has on body image. It’s confusing for sure feeling stuck in a body that I struggle to connect with.

I hurt when I look at the reflection in the mirror, the scars and the ugliness are hard to accept. I feel terrible in this forced, overnight-post-menopausal, non-regulated body that lacks helpful hormones. I am bitter toward a body that let me down. I hate that I have lost so much feeling. I am frustrated with an immune system that seems to be attacking itself. And then I feel the shame of, ‘you should be grateful because your body is resilient and you’re still alive.’

I know. I should be there. But I’m just not.

*Post 902

I’m Just Sad :: 9/23/17 :: Post 25

I’m just sad. 

I have had moments today where the waves of grief just crash over me. This morning when I woke up….this afternoon while we were taking a drive through the mountains looking at the fall colors (a yearly tradition)…this evening right after I got a foot rub from my momma…..tonight as I sit here typing… 

Breathing is evidence of life. Fall colors are vibrant and soul-filling. Memories made are treasures of mind and heart.

Now…………… Breathing is a painful reminder of an immense loss. Fall colors are seen through an unwanted filter. Memories are being made under an unwelcomed truth.

Joy must find a new normal. And that is hard. 

Tensions are high. Parenting is tough. Kids have their stuff. Marriage is effort. Love is risky.

Now…………… Tensions are higher. Parenting is tougher. Kids have their stuff in addition to more stuff. Marriage is extra effort. Love is riskier.

Resilience must find a new normal. And that is hard.

It’s hard living a hard life in the midst of this really hard thing. The hard stuff doesn’t stop when new hard stuff transpires. 

All of this is expected. All of this is relative. All of this is in everyone else’s stories. 

This isn’t news to me. This isn’t a solitary experience. This is not an isolating crisis.

I know it won’t always look like this. Or feel like this. Or be like this.

But tonight, I’m just sad.

Colorado Mountains :: 9/23/18 :: Post 375

Our annual fall colors trip had some interesting familiarities to last year’s trip. 

9/23/17 was just a few weeks post mastectomy. I was walking around with drains and I wasn’t about to have a major surgery deter me from seeing the beauty of the Colorado mountains in the fall. 

Sadly it was kind of a cold and foggy day, the clarity was not ideal to experience the colors and I distinctly remember writing that night about how the foggy view was so indicative of the road I had ahead of me. 

9/23/18, today, is 5 days post complete hysterectomy. Once again, walking around with my recovering body, slow, tired and in pain but not about to let cancer win. The Colorado mountains in the fall heal my soul. 

Sadly, though, the colors today were a total dud. We went to one of our normal favorites and were so disappointed to find almost no color. We drove and drove and finally gave up and took some tradition selfies by some really amazing rock formations instead.

Interesting, yet again, how the literal experience can speak to life figuratively. Having to adjust expectations….. Choosing to see beauty differently…. Deciding to go a different route…. Not holding so tightly to what was and accept what is… 

I’m grateful for the time with my family. I’m grateful we’ve gotten through the past year. I wasn’t sure, amidst the foggy colors of last year, what laid ahead and if we’d survive it. And here we are…. 

Transformed. And able to find beauty wherever we look. Even if it’s just rocks. 

All of the “Well” :: 9/23/19 :: Post 738

Today was a mixture of really good and surprising grief. 

That’s the thing about grief… it can come out of seemingly nowhere and its cause can be unknown… I don’t know why it hit me like a Mac truck in the car on the way home from a volleyball game with my kid in the passenger seat. I don’t know what set me off. Was it the sunset? Was it the exhaustion of a long day? Was it the memory of my mastectomy drains that popped into my head? Was it the pain in my joints that I feel 24/7? Was it the fact that today was the first official day of fall and now fall brings with it, difficult anniversaries? 

My heart is full of gratitude that I’m getting to a place where I’m more able to say “I’m doing well” more than “I’m hanging in there”… and I’m grateful for the chance to live richly and fully present with my family. Additionally, though, I am also holding the reality that I have much to grieve and that it’s really important to let those waves come as they come because that’s just as rich and present as all of the “well.”