The Little Volleyball with a BIG Meaning
I live in the upside-down where the both+ands far outnumber the either-ors, where life is slow and simple, where all feedback is esteemed relevant, where I seek to embrace challenge and not escape from it, where I practice purpose in the present rather than distraction of the distant, where freedom is found in the free fall and where surviving means a whole lot more than just not dying. Here, I get a lot of practice at staying true to living changed because I am consistently confronted with the rightside-up opposites. I have a choice which vantage point I take.
A very small example: The other day, I looked over and saw a little volleyball on my desk. One that my kid decorated and threw to me as she was announced during pre-game hype. (It’s a thing our team does for our crowds.) Anyways, it wasn’t our best game as a team and actually held some really difficult moments for my kid in particular. We lost and should have won. We struggled when we should have dominated. We didn’t get lucky in the moments where luck made the call. But we kept at it. We lost with poise. We endured through the struggle. We didn’t let bad luck determine our spirit. We didn’t let disappointment cause discord.
The point – When I first looked over at that little volleyball, my knee-jerk reaction was, ‘darn, I got *that* ball out of all the others with happier memories.’ But gratefully, because even though I can tend to have an old-Amber-knee-jerk now I also am very very quick to the changed-Amber-reframe, I adjusted my vantage point. ‘This little volleyball can represent an amazing amount of grit in the face of adversity, new lessons learned, new strengths gained, new depth of relationship.’
The moral: I get to decide what “IT” I attach.
And what’s more – Difficult times, difficult memories, adversity and pain aren’t wasted. They matter. Because without them, grit, progress and purpose cannot be practiced.
The last chapter in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland is an interesting view where all of a sudden you get a picture of how Alice’s Wonderland came to be. “So she (Alice’s sister) sat on, with closed eyes, and half believed herself in Wonderland, though she knew she had but to open them again, and all would change to dull reality—the grass would be only rustling in the wind, and the pool rippling to the waving of the reeds—the rattling teacups would change to tinkling sheep-bells, and the Queen’s shrill cries to the voice of the shepherd boy—and the sneeze of the baby, the shriek of the Gryphon, and all the other crazy noises, would change (she knew) to the confused clamour of the busy farm-yard—while the lowing of the cattle in the distance would take the place of the Mock Turtle’s heavy sobs. Lastly, she pictured to herself how this same little sister of hers would, in the after-time, be herself a grown woman; and how she would keep, through all her riper years, the simple and loving heart of her childhood.”
The upside-down vantage point is rich and full of meaning that matters. Despite how I came to be here … and what it feels like to remain … I like my view.
We Will Overcome :: May 21, 2018
Cancer…..
Cancer in the midst of wife-ing…
Cancer is the midst of wife-ing and being a mom…
Cancer in the midst of wife-ing, being a mom and working full time…
Cancer in the midst of wife-ing, being a mom, working full time and having a husband who also works full time…
Cancer in the midst of wife-ing, being a mom, working full time, having a husband who also works full time and home ownership (when it’s easy and when things go very wrong)….
Cancer in the midst of life being lived….responsibilities….adulting…
Alright 2017….which just keeps going into 2018….
…When it rains it pours……….
…….When the storms keep coming………
We will overcome.
The Hard Just Changes :: May 21, 2019
The further out I get from diagnosis, the easier it’s supposed to get, right?
Nope. That hasn’t been my experience.
Granted, I am more in tune with my body than I ever have been in my life, so of course I’m going to FEEL EVERYTHING. But still. It’s not getting easier. The hard just changes.
Today, for example, was marked by a sensation that I have not really felt before. The fatigue I felt today was so palpable that every step felt like I was climbing a mountain after having swam across half the ocean. My legs felt like they were so weak I could hardly hold my own weight. My shoes – cinder blocks. My eyelids were so heavy and my brain was maddeningly fuzzy. The fatigue was so intense that my bone marrow felt tired. And my heart was so tired that even showing up for 5 minutes at a time was just too much to handle.
I guess maybe today was sort of how I felt during the first 6 rounds of chemo where I was so fatigued I could hardly lift my arms to wash my own hair or I couldn’t even put on mascara without having to take a break or where getting up to refill my water bottle was the main event of the day.
……………………….Oh man those memories are hard….
I have certainly been tired before. And this journey has been exhausting. And the fatigue is like nothing ever before. And I have felt drained of every bit of resolve. And the weariness is intense. But “tired” “exhausted” “fatigued” “drained” “weary” are words that only come a little close to describing what I actually feel. I’m not sure a word exists to capture this experience…..
Grace for the Gray :: May 21, 2020
I’m sitting here tonight feeling so heavy because today was a mix of emotions, many of which were on opposing sides vying for my attention. Usually when I have a heaviness, I write so that I can process and then subsequently I feel the weight lift. This behavior has become a bit of a Pavlovian response seeing that since diagnosis, I’ve essentially written every day for the past 2 and a half years…. Tonight, though, there was no “food” to follow that “bell” as I sat here, iPad on lap, for a long time wondering what my deal was.
Until three words came to mind: Black. White. Gray.
I don’t know about you, but as this pandemic evolves, I find myself more and more confused every day. To wear a mask or not to wear a mask… Is it bad for you? Is it good for you? You’ll die from Co2 poisoning if you do. You’ll die from corona if you don’t. Is this all a conspiracy theory or is it not? Should we be reopening or if it’s so bad that you shouldn’t even drive without your mask (or in some cities live in your own home) without wearing a face covering and gloves, why leave the house at all? And…to that…who is actually *ACTUALLY* telling the truth? Are the death rates even accurate? And if the death rates are not accurate and decisions are being made based off of inaccurate numbers, then are the decisions really valid? SO then who is making the *valid* decisions? Because it really feels like truth is relative right now. It feels as though truth is being designed (and maybe even fabricated) from a place of convenience for whatever motive is to be served by said “truth”-teller. Now, I will concede that some of this vagueness [or contradictory science] could be authentic because there is much to learn about this particular virus. But therein lies my point back to my three words.
It’s uncomplicated to live in the black and white, the either/or, the if this—then this. Black and white are significantly easier to quantify. It’s easier to know what and how to feel when things are either/or. Things are predictable in the if this—then this pattern and therefore far less scary. And the crux – it feels easier to control things when they are black and white.
The gray though, not so much. And there is no doubt we are living smack-dab-in-the-middle of the gray, not knowing which end is up, not knowing if things are improving or getting worse, losing sight of the light at the end of the tunnel because as it turns out, the further we get into this, the weirder, windier and wackier the tunnel becomes…the exact opposite direction we would prefer.
All that to say, as complex as the gray is, I know it well and life and cancer have taught me *a lot* about how to live right smack-dab-in-the-middle of it (and even how to be comfortable in it). But tonight, my grace for the gray is tired. Ugh.