Next step, just get to the next step is how I coach myself through. During chemo, the strength is almost invisible. A superpower that takes over. Then it all stops. Swooped off your feet, wrangled around and then thrown back to Earth. What is the next step in the progression because going BACK is not an option.
No one tells you the after effects, or they do; you are just too busy getting yourself through to HEAR. Afraid one more drop in the bucket will throw the delicate structure off balance, and all will come crashing down.
I have struggled for the past two weeks. Hardly able to believe the body I see in the mirror, but I hang on to the me I see in my eyes.
I imagine the women trudging out of the hospital like zombies. Gown tattered, dragging their feet, lookin like they’ve been run over six times by a Mac Truck. Drooling and in a haze. The walk from the trenches.
The nurses asked if I wanted to ring a bell. Not wanting the attention I decline. Half way not wanting it to be over, half way not believing it is over. A blink in time, or did I just block it all out. If this is the end, that means there is a next step. I don't dare let the thoughts of "did it work" fall in. Now the work is up to me.
My body betrays me. Anafalactic shock beats a bell…true Leo fashion.
The final straw, I know that it is time to STOP this. My body says ENOUGH. Circumstance forces movement and transition is hard, even if it is moving OUT of pain.
I am in the “angry woman” phase. I hear myself and I get tired of listening. I feel like it seeps into every part of my being. This is the poison cancer is made of.
I can get lost in the venom. I can think of a million and one reasons to be unhappy. And I am ALLOWED to be. IT IS O.K. I am glad I haven’t posted in a while because what is NOT O.K. is to let that venom spread into the world. And it is NOT O.K. to be stuck there. I am ABLE to sit with it and MOVE IT THROUGH.
Feeling the venom helps lead me to honey. My eyes will not be jaded. And knowing what poison tastes like, pushes me to find the nectar of life.
I met with my doctors, my acupuncturist, my chiropractor, and myself. I will rest now. I will take the next month to RESTORE myself and my body before moving on. Giving space to heal. My wish is to be INTACT. My only goal in any interaction, is that I may leave with my spirit whole. That I stand in my power, and not feel taken for.
In the storm that is the after effects of chemo; I will hold my ground. I will decide how I heal. I will decide how I piece myself back together. Now the roots will grow.
I will find my prescription for Joy. For Happiness.
My medicine is ME. Turn inward. Soothe and smooth it all out.
Is there a finish line? My mind trails as my feet hit the sidewalk. Is there an end in sight?
When do I get to sit down and look back? I find myself holding on to the HOPE, the LIGHT; the thought that…this will be over, right? But it feels more like a check list. OK, done. OK, done. OK, done. Ok, DONE. Except there is no end.
Life doesn’t stop for anybody. We all have 24 hours in a day. Life is created in the space between. Waking and sleep, we live on repeat. The answer, a little tweek. The same dream with an alternate ending.
I had a waitressing nightmare the other night…those in the industry know the depths to which these reach:
People filling the bar. they are speaking and their words have no meaning. Retaining orders on a paper that cognitively escape. My mind screams, "JUST MAKE THE DAMN GREY HOUND! YOU KNOW HOW!" The result, a bottomless glass that will never be filled. Everything out of my control. People screaming, unsatisfied and the pressure builds.
Vodka - Grapefruit. Replace the vodka with gin, salt the rim and you’ve got yourself a Salty Dog.
Turn on the stove, boil the water, add the bone broth, boil more water, make the coffee, take the supplements, brush the teeth, sit and read, drink the coffee, make the smoothie, add the protein. Ahhhhhhhhh, peace.
I have assembled what I need to LIVE day to day; a simple break down of what it is I feel to be sustained. Nourishment. Movement. Creation. Satisfying Work/Production. Sleep. Repeat. The place not important, a transient swirling around gathering my things; each falling into their place. The spiral.
I see that EACH DAY is a ritual, a ceremony. The opening of the eyes, and closing.
On the most basic level, all bodies function the same. We are living in BODIES. A body being the most dense form. A science. A cause and effect. A chain reaction. Regulating the nervous system is finding a solid base, a balance. Establishing equanimity is finding a way to maintain. Easy…right?
Navigating the veils is not an easy task. Who ever said, “FEELINGS ARE MEANT TO BE FELT” was a masochistic lunatic…
I blame it on the astrology. Twas the month of the extreme emotional upheval. Under the Virgin Moon on the Supreme Eve when the Gemini was overriding Uranus down the hall
…it was me…I said it. Along with every other new age hippie chic selling sage, crystals and her new E-Book
[coming soon -- Working title: Spirituality - Chasing the High.]
Have I changed so much that the woman who occupied this body is invisible now? How do we measure our own growth?How do we know what we are made of? Revealed in the actions and thoughts of the present.
I saw the ex who haunts my past, twice in one day. Nothing is a coincidence in life or sleep. He didn’t see me, never mind I look nothing like the me he knew. For a moment, I found myself hurting. But it wasn’t a wanting for him; it was a longing for her.
She was so hurt, so frail, so fragile. She begged for anyone just to see her. She would do anything to be held. She would bite when they got too close. A safety mechanism, to protect her brittle bones. No man ever stands a chance against the inner masculine, who is protecting a wounded feminine.
And immediately, I caught myself musing over the idea of long luxurious hair. What? If only I had the guise, I could hide behind the coquette of luscious locks. A seductress, a gimmick, all the shiny things, ones that work every time.
AHA! The snare!
Knowing good and well I’ve done every thing I could to destroy her, the future riding on if she could just fade away. It is easy to go back to what feels safe in the moment I am deprived. When I am not full. When I don’t trust myself, when I feel undeserving.
But the body I am in presently doesn’t allow me to linger. It forces me to be strong. Emotionally. Mentally. Physically. “I am beautiful. I am bold. I AM WORTHY. I love you, thank you.”
Life spirals in upon itself. The end slapping the beginning in the face. “Did that happen yesterday or tomorrow?" Tomorrow explains back to today.
Dizzy, I grab for the railing, grasping for anything to guide me through. An anchor to the Earth.
You’ll be back in the body soon. Seguimos adelante. Gracias por estos pies en este tierra. Gracias por al alimentación de este vida. Gracias por guiarme.
The promise is the sun will rise.
I have spent years on the search for what it means to be FEMALE, for what it means to THRIVE, for what it means to be ALIVE. This path has lead me all over the world, drawn to women and their children, to communities, to SPIRIT, and ultimately BACK to MYSELF. Here I will share my most recent adventure, navigating a diagnosis of triple positive BREAST CANCER and each step of the way I figure out how to be a little more ME. I am Catherine-Ayer Gresham a 30 year old woman