How is it that I can feel the most healthy I’ve ever felt in how I engage with life while at the same time feel the most unhealthy I’ve ever felt in how I engage with life?

I really really like *who* I am becoming through the transformation of cancer. I like how I see God, I like how patient I am with process, I like how humble I am as a wife and mother, I like the deeper depth of my faith, the broader breadth of my empathy and the wider width of my gratitude, I like that I am a seeker of peace and stillness, I like that I pause often, I like that I cherish the richness of the present.

Yet at the same time I feel discontent, frustrated, stuck…I feel surrounded but lonely…I feel lost and aimless and small. I want to throw in the towel and not care about anything. I want heaven but then wrestle with shame for taking earth for granted. I hate having to live in my scarred, ugly body but again, beat myself up for being so bratty about that.

It’s confusing to feel this amount of bitterness toward the very thing that has brought about some of the best parts of me and my family. It’s strange to feel antsy when I’m living my most calm. It’s backwards, upside down and inside out. Who am I?

*Post 916

36 Hours From Now :: 10/7/17 :: Post 40

I have felt low all day today…. Very emotional and lacking energy to do much more than just sit and be still and yet also so antsy and uncomfortable. I woke up awfully nauseous which is annoying…and it’s lingered most of the day. Strange seeing as I haven’t taken any different meds. I have had a terrible headache all day. My eyes hurt, they burn and there is a lot of pressure behind them. I want to sleep. I want to sleep away all of the feelings but I’m just not sleepy enough to actually sleep.

….Chemo starts Monday……….36 hours from now. Maybe that has something to do with it.

I am in this all-to-familiar place of waiting. Counting down the hours until a new unknown materializes. Sitting in the space of a looming appointment where I can wrap my head around only 10% of what it actually will be…knowing the factual, logical side of it but having no idea what the emotional, heart, soul side of it will be. Having a set of instructions to follow…having alarms set to make sure those items are crossed off a list….reviewing documents and packing for a day I never thought would come into my life. Chemo, 9:30am, Monday morning. I re-read that and still cannot believe *I* will be the one.

….Chemo starts Monday……….36 hours from now. I want the minutes to fly by. I also want them to never come.

Doing life while fighting for it. Living “normal” while each moment is a new normal never before experienced. Having routine while fitting in 40+ appointments, making life-altering decisions, and experiencing significant trauma and crisis. Working while vulnerable both physically and emotionally. Parenting while exhausted and barely keeping myself together. Being in familiar surroundings while nothing is familiar. Having responsibilities while the shit-storm of cancer and the collateral damage that has come with it swirls around me….all of this is beyond comprehension and yet I don’t have any other option. I know it’s possible. I know it’s manageable. I know I’ll find a way. I know I’ll come out the other side. …………Actually, I don’t know and I won’t know until I’m IN it. I am TOLD these things will happen, but I haven’t been there yet.

….Chemo starts Monday……….36 hours from now. How do I manage expectations when I have no context for what is coming…how do *I* live in the midst of chemo?

I find myself, yet again, in a very inexplicable tension of hating the idea of having to go through chemo but being glad that it is starting so that I can turn another page in this horrendous chapter… despising its existence and yet through-gritted-teeth acknowledging that chemo will save my life… struggling with the reality of life-lived-throughout-treatment but futilely wanting time to pause… how badly I want to give in to the depression that I know I am experiencing but knowing that I will choose to rise and fight and battle and win because the devil will not be victorious… having no energy for the fight and yet banking on my stubbornness… grieving the losses of so many things because cancer took (and keeps taking) them but also that they are some pretty badass battle scars… that I am battered and broken and weak but trusting that my brokenness will be put back together stronger than before… being a victim but also a warrior… not letting it define me but also letting it define me.

….Chemo starts Monday……….36 hours from now. I sit in one body but the duel rages within.

A part of me wants to sit here and write, “LET’S DO THIS” and “BRING ON CHEMO” and then I hear those words in my head and go, “Ummmmmm, what did you just say?!” What will it be like? What will the quiet look like throughout the day? How will it feel to have blood taken from my port site and not my arm? How does the needle go into my port and then stay there all day? Will I feel the fluid flowing into my jugular? Will I have an appetite? Will I want to talk and have visitors, or will I choose the quietest corner in the room and hide away? Will a lot of other patients be there, or will there be only a few? Will the nurses be able to set aside whatever is going on in their lives to focus on treating me well? Will the day go smoothly, or will it be cumbersome? Will I feel strong or vulnerable?

….Chemo starts Monday……….36 hours from now. The unknowns are dark. And thunderous.

I am not without hope. I am not without my God. I am not without my army. I am not without my spirit of resilience and tenacity.

….Chemo starts Monday……….36 hours from now. I will rise, no matter how weary.

Smile :: 10/7/18 :: Post 389

I posted a couple of pictures the other day. They were a combination of the 18 selfies I took at each chemo round sitting from the same chair at my cancer center.

While cancer has taken me to the edge of myself, I have tried to find ways to remain grateful.

Gratitude does not negate or replace the treachery, but it is the light in dark dark places.

My smile in those pictures, even in the devastation, is the reflection of my gratitude.

October 7 of 31 :: 10/7/19 :: Post 752

Another friend is spending her last moments here on earth and one of these next breaths will be her last. While the relief of heaven is near for her, her husband and kids and family and friends will have to say a very difficult goodbye and wait a really difficult wait until they see her again.

Throughout their valiant battle, both she and her husband have lovingly encouraged me in mine. How generous of them to share their precious time to encourage me and how generous to share their compassion with me as they wage war themselves on the evil of cancer. That is truly a whole new level of selflessness.

Jesus hold them close as they walk each next step.

I have so much more on my heavy heart but I can’t find the words.

Breast Cancer Awareness month…

…Day seven – Finding femininity and identity in the wake of breast cancer is hard. Doable, but hard.