Let me lose myself for a minute (or two)

I was dancing and singing in the kitchen tonight, after having been an absolute sloth all day, and my husband said, “You’re either a 10 or a 1. There’s no in between for you.” To which I replied, “This is true. But right now I’m an 11, because this *motions towards body* goes to 11.” That got a laugh. ☺️

Once he told me that I’m like the brightest stars, which burn bright but burnout fast. There’s a lot of truth to that. I don’t know any other way to be. I go big or I go home, and I do need lots of time at home to recover from going so big. LOL. Someday soon I will burn up completely, and that will be it, but what a show it will be in the meantime. That’s exactly how I want to live my life. That’s how I want to be remembered: as the brightest star.


Life is interesting nowadays. I’m keeping us pretty busy. D has a lot on his plate at work, but is absolutely nailing it. The kids are so grown up now. Jackson is suddenly mister popularity with an active social life. He’s almost a proper teenager! Frey is almost 16. We talk about her future plans all the time. She’ll be driving soon, which I am not ready for! I’m just taking it all in, and helping guide them. That’s my role in the fam: I’m the one they talk things out with. I’m the wise one who gives the life advice. It’s nice to be needed in that way, though it can be exhausting too. But I feel cherished by them, and I’m happy.

I’m still feeling quite poorly from the penicillin. I have two more days of pills, but I think it’s going to take weeks to recover from the havoc this shit has wreaked on my body. Other non-related ailments continue to arise. I really do feel like I’m falling apart. Both of my wrists just randomly pop out and cause excruciating pain. Walking is getting difficult. I’m nauseated a lot. Let’s not get into the fucking diarrhea. Every day is a struggle. I’m seriously considering getting a handicap tag for my car. (Ugh ugh ugh – how the fuck did I become this??)

I think I freaked some people out because I posted on my socials that I’m reading this book:

I saw it being discussed in a support group and decided to pick it up. Yes, everyone knows they will die someday, but I don’t think any non-terminal person can truly understand the mind fuck that is having to watch it happening; to know that it looms. I can’t simply push it to the back of my mind like healthy people can. I’m not going to have the privilege of growing old. I have to face it down all day every day, and I’m hoping this book will help me on this journey.

Honestly, I think I’m pretty fucking zen about it, all things considered. I want to die with dignity and grace.

I know I make people uncomfortable with how much I talk about my inevitable death, and metastatic breast cancer in general. But I don’t care. Try living it. I don’t get away from it, so why should you? This is my life.


Tonight the bestie and I made plans to see Rupi Kaur (one of my favorite poets) in Kansas City next month. The STL show was cancelled, so we decided to do a little overnight trip to KC instead. I’m super excited about it. We need this time together. I think, in the end, this will end up being a better experience.

Oh and please allow me to be a fan girl for a min:


D will be traveling a lot starting at the end of the month. It feels like I’ll barely see him in May. So I’m going to make lots of plans so I don’t get into a super lonely introvert depression spiral.

We were talking last night about LS stuff, and we agreed that what we really want is a relationship with another couple. That is so difficult to find, so I’m not expecting it to work out, but that’s what we really want.

Okay I think that’s all I’ve got right now. It’s around 1:30 am, and I’m tired, but I can’t sleep. My body is being a dick, and I can’t relax. Meanwhile, my husband is snoring his ass off. He’s out like whoa.

I miss you. I love you. No matter when you read those words, it’s still true.


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