Oh the both+and of a covid Thanksgiving. The gratitude for a Thanksgiving to begin with. And that of having my people around. For provision. For a comfortable and uncomplicated Thanksgiving for just the 5 of us. For the chance to make memories of just the 5 of us being in the kitchen, preparing our own Thanksgiving dinner, each of us doing our part. For the laughter and for the stories that will be retold years from now. And for the significance of *us*.
The value of the both and the and.
But there is another side to this concept… What about the value of the and and the both? How can I use my both+and gratitude of this wacky covid Thanksgiving to also call out what I’m grateful for when I don’t have it?
So today, I also recognize why I am grateful for the Thanksgivings that include the 5 of us amongst the many. For the connection of family, of heredity, of story, of history. For the complicated dynamic of people, different yet connected in a most basic level – an important like-it-or-not connection. For the tension that speaks to blood being thicker than water even if it might be uncomfortable at times…in other words, friends you choose, family you don’t and yet, both are inherently valuable. For the reminder that everyone shows up with something to offer and when having to do it alone, it’s harder. Doable. But harder. (And this I mean both literally and figuratively.) For the generational laughter, the collective memories, the woven-together stories of family legacy. For the life-pause of a holiday creating a space for the many to be together. And for the significance of *together*.
And I find myself now wondering what other and+both’s there are in the midst of the both+and’s.
That’s a process for another day. Happy Thanksgiving, 2020.
*Post 967
Reflections for the Week :: 11/26/17 :: Post 90
Eating is hard. Drinking water is harder.
Taking a shower is exhausting.
Being nauseous all the time, sucks.
Drinking water makes me nauseous. Being dehydrated makes me nauseous. Lose-lose.
Medical marijuana is an interesting industry. And there is A LOT we don’t know. And it tastes awful.
Sleep does not come easily…my head hurts on the pillow because I have tiny little needles for hair, my chest wall hurts because my muscles are in a place they weren’t created to be and my body cannot seem to regulate its own temperature so I swing from hot to cold…all of the time.
Fatigue. Such fatigue.
Resentment and anger at the evil that is cancer. Seeing so many other sick people this week with all of my fluids appointments made me so sad. All of us fighting against whatever unknowns lurk in our bodies… unsure of tomorrow but hopeful nonetheless… banking on resilience…
Accessing my port 4 times in one week is painful.
Sitting in my chair crying. A lot.
Cheerios gives me heartburn. Toast gives me heartburn. Salmon gives me heartburn. Apples and bananas-heartburn. Turkey-heartburn. Water-heartburn. And heartburn creates extreme nausea and the desire to vomit. Lose-lose. Again.
Thanksgiving 2017 was painfully sad. Thankful I am told I’ll be around for Thanksgiving 2018.
Being “halfway done” isn’t feeling super great…the second half is going to be the hardest on my body and heart. But being “halfway done” also means much has already been survived.
Days 2-7 were all very difficult, will day 8 be? Will Round 3 continue to be different than the other two?
If my side-effects were predictable, this would probably be significantly easier. Even if the side-effects sucked…
Even ice-chips cause heartburn.
Everything about this is hard and I’m feeling the urge to “fake” it so people don’t perceive me as a negative nelly…. But no. I won’t give in. I will remain authentic…and say it how it is. Everything about this is beyond hard. And I have felt hopeless in this. A lot. And I have wanted to give up. And I have wished it away. And I have screamed and cried. And I have felt defeated. And I have felt weak. And I have felt small and insignificant.
I don’t stay in that dark place for prolonged periods of time, but this past week was a dark week.
I’m tired. And not done writing. But my body is done. So I need to be.
I will choose to fight again tomorrow…day 8 of round 3….whatever it brings. Because I can. And I’m not alone.
Destruction :: 11/26/18 :: Post 439
My hands hurt. My fingernails. My fingertips. My skin. My joints. I can’t open a can. I can’t open a jar. I can’t even open a ziploc. In light of the other many things that hurt……
Cancer is so destructive.
Gratitude Month Day 26 :: 11/26/19 :: Post 802
2017 – Brutally hard. But willing to fight another day.
2018 – Brutally hard. But willing to fight another day.
2019 – How my heart weighs heavy reading what my body, heart, spirit and mind have had to endure. AND (because such power lies in replacing ‘but’ with ‘and’ …really, try it… ) Gratitude Month Day 26 – I love snow. Like so so much. There is a peace that comes with a huge snow storm…a forced slow-down…a much-needed blanket of pure white glittery silence. As I wrap up my day, my soul quieted and Christmas music on in the background, I can acknowledge gratitude for the pain I continue to live with because the scars, both seen and unseen, tell quite the story of resilience and grit.