I was exploring this with my volleyball girls a couple of weeks ago….to examine it within the context of volleyball, both their individual contributions and the team’s function. Then I challenged them to take it to life beyond the court. 

Ready for this? It’s a doozie. 

What story will I tell using the following four characters: everybody, somebody, anybody and nobody?

I think there are probably several ways to read this statement and more so, several ways to make it mean something. So, before you go on, read it again and allow it to teach you something about yourself. 

What story will I tell using the following four characters: everybody, somebody, anybody and nobody?

For me, I read it as a statement of ownership, personal responsibility, accountability. What story will I tell using the following four characters: everybody, somebody, anybody and nobody: When I’m successful…When I fail small…When I fail miserably…When I’m challenged…When things feel easy and everything is falling into place…When things just don’t seem to go my way…When I’m under pressure…When I’ve received feedback of any kind…When I’m at the top…When I’m at the bottom…

I’ll tell ya, since talking about it with my athletes, I’ve found the concept quite deep and it’ll pop up in the most opportune moments in my day to day, in my relationships, in the roles and responsibilities of my life. All feedback is relevant…I mention this often…but it’s transformative only by how I tell the story of that feedback. Everything matters, yes, but it’s truly purposed only by how I tell the story of it. Telling an accurate narrative requires the “I” and the “me” as the fifth character taking important ownership of the right elements of the story even if they are the hardest ones. 

Am I successful because nobody else would go for it? Or because everybody else failed? Or is it because somebody believed in me? And is it possible for anybody else to be successful in the same way as I am, and if so, what does that show me? Did I fail because somebody else didn’t teach me right? Did I fail because everybody else left me behind? Did I fail because nobody else did their job? Or did I fail because anybody and everybody fails and it’s my job to learn from my failures? Certainly these are just a small handful of story prompts…some holding both+and truths, some needing context and plot lines, some needing not to be written at all. But all requiring accurate character development.

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Past Posts from 2018:

Moments :: April 19, 2018

I don’t have much to say tonight….It was overall a good day….I am thankful I felt pretty good all day….But I’m so tired tonight…. I do remember feeling super insecure today about my short hair … Weird. And I had a sad moment when the word “chemo” came out of my mouth … Odd. Sometimes things move so fast that reality doesn’t have time to sink in. And then time seems to stop for a moment and it all comes crashing into me. Those are tough moments. 

(No Post :: 4/20/2018)

Aware, Raw and Present :: April 21, 2018

Got home super late (9pm HA!) last night from an event at Faith. We celebrated the amazingness that is our school and church and I was so filled up by having gone. Funny that I really didn’t feel like going and I was trying to think of excuses not to go. *eye roll. When will I learn…. 

I got to spend time talking to a few people that I haven’t seen in a while (because of cancer) and it was wonderful to catch up. And so very many people were incredibly encouraging and edifying to me. Thank you, Lord, for my army. For my community. For those that have held us up during this time. For those that have walked this with us. Every.Step.Of.The.Way.

I have practiced being so aware, raw and present that I find myself vacillating between so many different feelings all in the same experience. Last night I was anxious, sad, hopeful, grateful, resentful, proud, exhausted, confident, insecure and overwhelmed all throughout the evening…sometimes within seconds of each other. So, by the time I got home super late, I was so very ready for sleep and quiet. And thankfully, I slept pretty well. And then I got to sleep in this morning. Oh the joy of sleeping in (and actually being able to). So, the weekend is here. Birthday parties, volleyball games, haircuts for the kids, Costco, church, small group, relaxing………filling my soul by spending time with the most amazing people on the planet….. 

A Long Temporary :: April 22, 2018

Nauseous. Tired. Sad.I want to be better. I want to have long hair again. I want to fast-forward to next year. So many people say, “You did it!” …but I’m not done. I’m sooooooooo not done.

I took my girls to get their hair cut this weekend. That was way harder than I thought it would be. I found myself daydreaming of looking at google for style ideas because I was sitting there waiting for my turn. I found myself resentful of the fact that I didn’t have hair to cut. I found myself saddened to think that it’ll be years until my hair is like it was. I took a few minutes to talk to the stylist about the process of growing out my hair….how strange it will be to cut hair that I’m trying to grow out…how hard that first hair cut might feel… What a bizarre place to be.

I put together a keepsake book today of our Domus Pacis Family Respite trip to Breckenridge. And I cried. What a beautiful memory that will be. What a sad reason to need a family respite. What a refreshing time that was…because of the death and grief and torture of cancer.

We spent the evening with some of Chris’s family and our brother in law just lost his mom. He was so sad. My heart is heavy for his…and my sister in law and their children and all of their family.

I got a text from a dear friend asking to pray for someone close to her. Someone that is hurting and experiencing such darkness. 

My family is tired. We are worn out. We are worn thin. 

My body hurts. And I wonder how many weeks, months, …..years I’ll be in pain or feel the tightness of a body rearranged by surgery. And I want eyebrows back. And eyelashes. And fingernails. 

This world is hard. 

Everything is temporary….and this all will be a memory some day…..but right now, it feels like it will never end. And being in the middle of a really long temporary is just hard. I must hold tightly to this hope even when I am surrounded by the darkness and can’t see the end: “She knew beyond the weariness God had something prepared for her that only she could fulfill… so she stayed the course.”

Insecurities :: April 23, 2018

The insecurities of cancer are difficult. My body image is wrecked. I’m uncomfortable in my own skin and the body I have ain’t so pretty anymore. Scars are not pretty. Even if they come with a story of battle-strong. I’m stuck between being told by my surgeon that now is not the time to lose weight because the more I have, the more he can work with when reconstructing my body………because my body needs to be reconstructed. Good Lord…….and wanting to live changed and begin living new healthy habits……because being diagnosed with cancer will mess anyone up. The self-inflicted guilt trips can be devastatingly debilitating. And the “what-if” game is torturous.

Hindsight is always 20/20. And hindsight is a dangerous place to go. It’s one thing to question myself…but when others question me, my heart takes a big hit…a hit that has a lingering pain…a hit that wreaks havoc on my soul.  Could I have prevented this?

Moments x2 :: April 24, 2018

The emotional triggers come from everywhere. I’ll go to put my hair behind my ears (even this long after not having hair) and be reminded that I don’t have hair long enough to do that anymore. I used to love putting on mascara. I haven’t worn it for weeks seeing as I don’t have many eyelashes to put it on to. The clothes I had before surgery don’t look the same as they did then. I went to an event this morning for work. The keynote speaker spoke on things that brought back memories of the quietness in the days following my mastectomy. I saw a client today who said words that were hard to hear. Words that came out of my own mouth during the days and weeks leading up to my diagnosis. Watching Seinfeld – I spent all of Thanksgiving watching Seinfeld because I felt too awful to participate in the day. Hearing certain songs. Smelling certain smells. Tasting certain foods…. 

Being present and intentional in the now is a practice that I have grown to be grateful for even in the hard; emotional triggers and allowing them to be experienced is all a part of that practice….and I’ve learned so much about life because I’ve learned to hold the moments as they are. 

Normal? :: April 25, 2018

Today had many moments of “normal”… It was interesting to have that thought run through my head many times and at different times throughout the day. But…………..

First – normal, in and of itself, is a trippy word. By no means does it mean that things are the way they were before I was diagnosed. I will never be able to (nor do I want to?) go back to the way it was. Some days I wish I could eliminate this chapter from my story…or have it be a figment of my imagination…or have it all be hypothetical. But really, do I? Do I want things to be as they were before cancer? If I say ‘no,’ does that mean that I am glad I have cancer? Um…..that is ludicrous. Yet, there is a change – a significant change – that has occurred in my heart and my soul, in my relationships, in my perspective and worldview, that would not have come about had it not been for this chapter, this cancer. Trippy. Ludicrous. Insane. True.

Second – what is normal anyways? That’s an odd word… Normal based on what? Normal in what context? Normal under what conditions? Normal within what expectations? Was there even normalcy before cancer? Is there such a thing as a “new normal” or is the experience simply that – the experience – without quantitative or qualitative meaning. Why do we gauge things within the constrains of “normal” and “abnormal”? Maybe it should just be “be.”  Whoa. Existential…

Third – Nothing about having cancer (something of death) while acknowledging the significance of positive change (something of life) is normal, nor does it make much sense in the same sentence… I mean, it does make sense…but it also doesn’t. And I guess some of that is also on the person who is walking it – what do they choose to gain or lose? Normal is thrown out the window when two very opposite tensions exist and can be experienced at literally the same time. Unless, of course, normal is defined by holding two opposites together and sitting in the tension. Wait. What?!

Fourth – Feeling “well” at this point in my cancer experience is defined differently than feeling well before it. In other words, feeling “normal” is relative… My everyday physical experience is that I am always in pain, I always have an upset stomach (some days worse than others), I am always tired, I rarely sleep well, I don’t like bacon or eggs, I have a totally different getting-ready routine, I have hot-flashes and temperature crashes every hour… but this is all my daily experience…this is all my current “normal” and within that definition, I feel _______?? Do I feel good? Do I feel bad? Do I feel – seriously I do not know how to fill in that blank! I can’t say I feel good because none of what I just named is good?!? But I have certainly felt worse (waaaaaaaay worse) so I’m not entirely “bad.” Ugh. I just feel. But again, why does it have to be defined or qualified? Maybe it is all about learning just that – just feel.

Good gracious…. that’s enough of that. My head hurts. I suppose my whole point was that within the experience of being, I was simply being. I was able to function well today in the midst of all that I carry with me. And I can celebrate that. (And let’s not get me started on how to define doing anything “well”……………..that’s a whole ‘nother thing)

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Past Posts from 2019:

Good Friday :: April 19, 2019

Day off. Sleeping in. Hanging with the girls. Doing my nails. Going on a walk. Date night. Good day. And thank you, Jesus, for your scars. 

One More… :: April 20, 2019

My walk tonight with Chris was both a literal and a figurative representation of cancer. Every step hurt. Every step was labored. Every step was purposeful. Every step was progress. Every step was not alone. With each step — one more…one more step gets you a little closer. You can do it. Which is the literal version of — five minutes…five more minutes gets you a little closer. You can do it. 

While I lay here writing, my body aches and the nausea is strong. I feel lightheaded and worn thin. My heart heavy and strained. One more step. 

Easter :: April 21, 2019

Easter is about celebrating the death and resurrection of Jesus. I am so grateful He took my place. Took my pain. Took my ugliness. I’m so grateful He chose the cross. I believe I have eternity with Him because He died for me. And it is only by this grace I am saved.cBecause of cancer I’ve looked death in the eye. I’ve had to come to terms with the possibility of my life here on earth ending. And there have been times through this battle where I was desperate for the sweet relief of heaven. Cancer has rocked me. It has readjusted my perspective. It has challenged my faith. It has rearranged my priorities. Having had to consider eternity as close as my next breath, I’m more convinced than ever that eternity will be glorious. 

There is a closeness I feel to You that has only come from my current suffering. Thank you, Jesus, for the gift of your life. 

Grief :: April 22, 2019

At acupuncture tonight, I had a moment in the quiet where I felt an intense grief, a depth of grief I haven’t felt before…. I felt my body sink into it, I felt it completely overwhelm me, I felt consumed by it. There have been several other moments along the way where I’ve reached into the darkness of despair that are comparable to how I felt tonight… The night before my mastectomy, the days following it, the day I heard I needed chemo, the day I shaved my head, the middle-of-the-nights that I laid there hoping for heaven to rescue me… 

I’m not sure why I felt such a deep grief tonight…I didn’t necessarily have a bad day or experience any triggers that would send me there. I just got sad. I was laying there thinking of the reason I was there, I felt uncomfortable on my back and acknowledged that my discomfort was purely from cancer beating the hell outta me, I had a myriad of flashbacks that hurt my soul… The timing was random but the grief really is not and I imagine this will happen again and again throughout survivorship. The reality of cancer is brutal. The battle, horrendous. 

Pre-Op #264 (or so it would seem) with Nurse Sue :: April 23, 2019

Nurse Sue was at it again today… 

“You’re my early bird…I saw you were on my schedule today and I just couldn’t believe we’re still doin’ this. You and me, girl, you and me. You get to hear me run my choppers again…tell you how you’ll feel like a truck ran right through you and how you’ll ooze and bruise. You know the drill…at this point you’re my professional patient cuz we’ve done this so much…. get on in there and take those clothes off so I can take some pictures… I’m looking at boobs and thighs today, boobs and thighs… oh yeah, keep on turnin’ ‘round so I can get every side and angle…” 
(10 pictures later…)
“We’ll get these sent off to the insurance company and Dr. Chris will take a look at ‘em and make a plan. He will of course go over everything with you and consent you and talk about all the places he’ll take the fat from on the day of surgery. And we’ll get you into that body suit after surgery, don’t you fret. I gotta order you one, though, so let’s measure you for sizing.” 
(Tape measure being pulled around all the chubb later…)
“Now who’s gonna be bringing you and taking you back home? Your friend Mary would be a good one. I sure like her. She’s a trip, ya know. And that Joy, too, she’s another keeper. I just can’t believe all you ladies have had to do this. And so young too.”
(Alllllllllll the paperwork later…) 
“Anyways, here are your prescriptions. Don’t forget to fill them and bring them with you. I’ve gotten the one high dose pain med and the Celebrex and of course the Sco patch….can’t forget that one. Don’t want you getting nauseous on us, now, and the anesthesiologist should call you the night before to introduce themselves….have they called you in the past? I know some patients don’t seem to get the calls. There was this one patient who was in for her 5th surgery and she hadn’t yet gotten a call. But you have, right? And what number are we on? It’s gotta be more than 5… Oh and I need to make sure to write all over your chart in my red pen…..oh gosh, I was cleaning up the PAC-U the other day and I found this here red pen and decided to start using it…it’s my new little friend….so I’m gonna write that you have a left arm restriction and that they better not use chloroprep cuz you’re allergic, gotta make sure they use that betadine instead. We don’t need you getting another big rash, right!?”
(Closes file)
“Ok, now that we’re all done here, I’ll let you get all dressed again. Crack that door when you’re done and then we’ll get you on your way.” 

Oh Nurse Sue. You’re a trip. You and your choppers and your fast talking that is ping-pong-y-all-over-the-place. How endearing you are. And how much I love having you in my story…even if you’re a lot to take in at 7:45am. 

Feeling :: April 24, 2019

Definitely feeling the blah of tamoxifen lifting. And that feels good. Of course, I noticed it because I’ve been way more emotional these past few days… I felt blah on tamoxifen and while I could recognize a depression and low emotions, it was just that – a recognition of the presence of feelings but no expression of feelings. 

Now I’m feeling the feelings. Deeply. Like before tamoxifen. And tonight, while on my way home after reading an email that validated the insane difficulty of this story, I started crying at the depth of my pain, the depth of this difficult journey. Crazy hard. Insanely hard. 

2 Minutes :: April 25, 2019

There was an absolutely horrendous car accident this evening on I-70. 3 semis, 12 cars, multiple explosions, a plume of black smoke seen for miles due to a raging fire under a bridge… Multiple fatalities, multiple injuries….

And my sweet husband was so close to this accident – so much so that if he had left the office 2 minutes earlier, LITERALLY, he would have been under that bridge and his car may have been one of the many that exploded into fire. If he wouldn’t have stopped to pee prior to getting on the road for his 35 mile commute, he may not have come home tonight at all. (The semi that barreled through stopped traffic, seemingly due to its brakes failing, blew by Chris with just inches to spare seconds before impacting other semis and cars and bursting into flames.) My heart is heavy tonight for those that don’t get to have a loved one come home or if they do, they aren’t coming home the same as they left this morning. 

2 m i n u t e s.

Lord have mercy. 

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Past Posts from 2020:

(No Posts for 4/19/20, 4/20/20, 4/21/20, 4/22/20, 4/23/20 or 4/24/20)

The Shame of ‘What If’ :: April 25, 2020

Intentionality has a very different meaning to me today than it did a couple of years ago. It’s a word that has meant a lot to me in my life, so much so that I have it tattooed on my foot (and intentionally so, as every step I take, I want to take with intentionality). See what I did there… 

Before cancer, my intentions were motivated by what I did with my time, how I invested it and how I spent it; what I thought about myself and how to never be satisfied; always striving for relentless betterment. But wait, isn’t that what intentionality is?

Yes, how we spend our time matters because I’m certain you’ve been asked, “if you die today, would you be content with where you are?” Yet, simultaneously, while we consider our answers to that question, we don’t readily accept our own mortality. *shoulder shrug. Right? We remain complacently comfortable in our intentions of what we’re doing ‘now’ because we are actually more motivated by what we’re going to be doing ‘next.’ 

Our whole lives, we are conditioned to ping pong between these sentiments: Do vitally important things right now because you don’t want to regret not doing them because any moment could be your last despite being unable to actually accept the finality of each moment. And therein lies the issue. These sentiments create this frantic need to fill every second with something worth being _________. *Proud of. *Happy with. *Motivated by. *Remembered for. While not inherently bad or off-base, when frantic, they become shaming. “You’re not doing enough.” “You’re not worthy because you’re not busy.” “You don’t have enough [blank] so you don’t get more [blank].” “If you’re not movin’ on up, you’re not movin’ at all.”

For me, as I was in that frantic place and focusing on how I was spending my time, and making sure I was playing my cards right, and inadvertently sacrificing so much just so I could ‘get to my next’, cancer hits and literally time stops. And literally I was forced to look death in the face. And literally, quite literally, the question, “if you die today……” became a very close, very real sentiment. Closer than I had ever experienced it before. 

Oh wait. You mean I could *actually* die? …

Yes.

So now I don’t frantically fill every moment so that I don’t regret what wasn’t because I was too focused on what might be. Turns out I wouldn’t know anyways??! Instead, I intentionally sit in the slow-down longer. I intentionally enjoy the quiet deeper. I intentionally let the now teach me more than what I think the future can offer. And I intentionally don’t buy into the shame of ‘what if.’ Tomorrow will come and if it doesn’t, I get heaven. Win/win.

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