Hi guys. I know, long time no talk. I feel a little awkward writing this, like when you run for the first time after taking a long break. It takes a little while to warm up, to remember the way words sound coming out of your mind with a click of keys. I keep hitting the backspace button…which is something I abhor. As you can probably tell. I’m a ‘stream of consciousness’ kind of girl. I don’t really know how to fill you in on all the things that have been happening in my life, or to explain why I stopped writing for awhile.
You know how when you’re reading a book, and you get an inkling as to where the story is heading. Foreshadowing. Or maybe you’re a hopeless romantic and you hope the girl ends up with the guy in the end, and the run off into the sunset, even though this is a post-apocalyptic zombie novel, and it’s looking like 90% likely that the said boy is possibly undergoing zombification, and you know in your heart it might not end that way. But you keep reading anyway. Hoping the ending would be satisfying, even if it turned out differently?
Writing about things that happen to you is kind of like that. But there are less zombies in my life, which I’m not sure is helping ;). I started this blog in 2008, when I needed something to keep me moving forward. That thing was words, that thing was things I didn’t remember doing, that thing was sharing all the myriad of wonders and pains and progress and fashioning all of that into hope. I wanted to be able to keep writing, and one day, I’d have a happy ending. I know how that ending will look. I see it so clearly. It ends with me quite literally walking off into the sunset, with health, with hope, and a future full of possibilities. So far I’m looking at 2/4, so not too shabby. But to be honest, this past year, which shall henceforth be known as the “year of the loud silence”, I was so ready for this chapter of my life to be over. I wanted to write a new story, a story about a girl going to university, and seeing the world, and taking up fucking jogging or whatever the kool kids are doing these days (okay, I know it’s not jogging…but I digress).
I wanted to be better the day I got sick. And the day after that. And every day for the past *8* years (oh, fuck. I haven’t written that out before. that’s scary).
When life throws you a curve ball, sometimes you have to shout “PLOT TWIST” and keep moving on. In an entirely new direction
So that’s why I’m writing again. Because I’m getting better, my body is taking it’s sweet time. It’s time for a change in perspective.
To stand on my shoulders, and look backwards, and stare through walls, and shake jars filled with wishes.
And now I have exactly 0 clues as to how I’m going to explain what has been happening. Sometimes a long intro of rambling helps but, nope. Okay, deep breath.
My dad has cancer.
I hate typing that. I hate the way those words go in the same sentence. They don’t belong. The way the present tense links my father to another terrible disease. On top of Lyme disease and other fun things like that. And because my father doesn’t do things by halves, he has two kinds of cancer that don’t really go together, like orange stripes and teal polka dots on the same bow tie [although, come to think of it, my quirky father just might think those patterns go swimmingly. you can see where I get my aesthetic from ;)]. I hate watching him suffer. The man has never taken a sick day from work in his life before this. I didn’t understand how terrible it is for my parents to watch me be so sick. I know now.
As usual, it took forever for him to be diagnosed. This seems to be a theme that’s developing. He was in hospital for 2 months, where amazing oncology nurses cared for him, and almost magically brought down the swelling in his leg, removed water from on his lungs, and removed part (all?) of the tumour on his calf. He’s home now, doing a better, and going in for round 4 of chemo later this week. There is wonderful supports in place for people who have cancer, so thankfully he’s being taken care of pretty well. Like the witch in Hansel and Gretel, I’m trying to fatten him up by cooking all sorts of yummy things – although we’re still working on the candy house. We’ve tried many gingerbread recipes, and none have yet been a satisfactory replacement for drywall ;).
I have 13% battery life here, and I know you all are going to think this is a total cop-out, but I think I’m going to need to explain about what I’ve done and where I’ve been in another post. I set out with the best of intentions to squeeze much amazingness into one post. I didn’t quite manage. Wasn’t from lack of trying. Zombies and gingerbread men and plot twists kept getting in the way…you see what I have to deal with!? C’est dans la lune!
The highlights? Singing in an amazing Young Adult choir. Going to the Hansa clinic (in Kansas!) for treatment. Doing my part to help Elizabeth May’s Lyme disease bill pass. Joining in the 25,000 Tuques project for refugees coming to Canada. Progressing to floor yoga! Cracking the perfect gluten-free vegan bread. Starting a shop for my hand-carded batts on Etsy. Knitting socks. Many socks. Visiting Finnerty Gardens in every season. Reading so many books, and trying to check out all the material at the library (I’m doing pretty well so far.). Preparing for my grade 9 piano exam, in which I will slay some Mozart, Bach and Debussy music. Connecting with amazing humans. [Whoa. This list is making me feel so grateful right now <3.]
I’ve been very exhausted lately. I know, shocking, right, but this is different. The kind of tired where breathing sometimes feels like quite enough to be doing for one day. Where your migraine-addled mind slows, and thoughts come in puffs of clouds, that vanish when you try to hard. And sometimes you say “Fuck it” and do everything even though your arms feel like they are going to fall off and you need to rest during the remains day. I cut back on some more strong pain meds, and surprise, wouldn’t you know, I’m in more pain now which is also exhausting, but the pain is lessening, for which I am so grateful.
But I’ve learned this year that I am stronger. Stronger than the things that try to weaken me. Stronger than I knew. I learned I can take a punch; a victory; a set back; courage, and get back up and do it all again.
Get knocked down 7 times, get up 8.
Bonni DennisonJanuary 4, 2016 at 1:43 pm
It is great to see you writing again…one of your many talents. Maybe not what you had in mind but well done. Sorry to hear about your dad’s health. For one of your library runs I recommend the book The Cancer Killers – the cause is the cure (Dr Charles Majors personal success story). Wishing you the best in 2016.Reply