so many feels

On Monday afternoon, I was talking to Jackson about his weekend with his dad, and he mentioned that his dads’s gf (Abby) had spent time with them. This lead to a candid conversation about her (because I’m curious, ok?!!!) in which Jackson told me he would like it if she became his step-mom.

I had a lot of different feelings about this. Obviously, I’m happy that he likes her enough to say something like that since it means she is being good to him. But then there is a not so nice part of me that wants to throw my arms around him and scream, “MINE!”

Abby is about ten years younger than me and doesn’t have kids of her own. This worries me a bit, but ultimately I know his dad wouldn’t bring someone unworthy into his life. I guess my biggest concern is that she won’t understand certain boundaries. For example, my business partner is divorced and he once told me about how his kids’ new step-dad insisted the boys call him dad. This, obviously, pushed my partner over the edge. He seriously lost his fucking shit over this. But I totally get it. (And shame on his ex-wife for even allowing such a thing to happen in the first place).

I’m (essentially) a step-mom myself, and I try to be aware of my actions and make every attempt to not overstep. I love Freya very much, but I am not her mother, and I never will be.  I talk to her about her mom all the time, to make sure Freya realizes that there is nothing to feel awkward about. That is her mom. End of story. Hopefully, her mom recognizes my feelings on this and doesn’t fret about it too much. Some fretting is inevitable, I’m thinking. See paragraph #2. Haha.

Who knows…maybe Abby will even end up reading this. I know if I was her I would have internet stalked me a long time ago, found this blog, and read it from beginning to end. I read D’s ex’s blog in its entirety over the period of a week once upon a time. I think it is critical to know something about someone who is going to be playing an important role in your life for a long time to come.  A little empathy and understanding goes a long way.

cancer is a mind fuck

Life feels sort of like a mind fuck right now.

This happened last time I got the “all clear” on cancer. You spend so much time preparing yourself for the worst case scenario, holding your shit together, enduring the procedures, and managing loved ones feelings, that after you are finally told you’re good – then and only then can you finally (and most properly) lose your shit. Up until you hear you have no evidence of disease, everything else is simply survival. Life on auto pilot.

I didn’t cry when my doc told me the bad news. I was momentarily teary eyed, and I felt like someone had punched me in the chest, but I kept my shit together. I went back to work and I got shit done. I went on with my life.  When the doc called yesterday and told me she got it all, I sobbed briefly but hysterically once I hung up the phone.

Now it feels weird. Life is supposed to go right back to normal, but that’s not how my mind works. I need time to process everything. I need time to properly feel my feelings.

So if I seem a bit melancholy, don’t judge me too harshly, please. Of course I’m overjoyed that I’m in the clear, but that doesn’t mean I’m mentally okay yet. I can be happy that I’m cured but still sad/angry/confused/resigned over the fact that this shit keeps happening to me.

Regardless, every moment is a gift. I know this all too well. Even feeling like a hungover pile of shit (which I very much do at this moment), I can smile and enjoy the sensation of getting to feel like a hungover pile of shit. Here’s to many more moments like these.

Good Bones

Life is short, though I keep this from my children.
Life is short, and I’ve shortened mine
in a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways,
a thousand deliciously ill-advised ways
I’ll keep from my children. The world is at least
fifty percent terrible, and that’s a conservative
estimate, though I keep this from my children.
For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird.
For every loved child, a child broken, bagged,
sunk in a lake. Life is short and the world
is at least half terrible, and for every kind
stranger, there is one who would break you,
though I keep this from my children. I am trying
to sell them the world. Any decent realtor,
walking you through a real shithole, chirps on
about good bones: This place could be beautiful,
right? You could make this place beautiful.
– Maggie Smith

I’ve been singing this song a lot this week.

Hello, how are you doing today?
I hope I find you feeling healthy.
I’m so glad our paths crossed this time today
on our way into the night.

Oh, we find love. It’s hiding here,
in the shadows, in the darkness.
Baby, it’s you and I could bring it to the light.
Love, when I approach the tears they fall like rain, you tell me.
Baby, your heart into a thousand pieces dashed.

Stop, only old and wise, with clouded eyes,
You can’t see what I can, I
Blindly throw my faith to the face
Of the next pretty girl that comes my way.

So here we are all of us stand around.
We’re leaning heavy on each other.
Always wondering what is it lies behind
The worried eyes of one another.

I believe it’s love, it’s hiding there
Inside you and inside me.
Baby, the two of us can bring it to the light.
Love, when I approach the tears they fall like rain, you tell me.
Baby, your heart into a thousand pieces dashed.

Stop, only old and wise, with clouded eyes,
You can’t see what I can, I
Blindly throw my faith to the face
Of the next good thing that comes my way.

I say it’s love, it’s inside here,
It comes on out, share it with some.
Baby, you and I could bring it to the light.
Love, when I approach these tears they fall like rain, you tell me.
Baby, your heart into a thousand pieces dashed.

I believe it’s love.

Granny – Dave Matthews Band

I typed this from memory. xoxo

the way things are

I’ve posted the lyrics to this song before, but, unfortunately, it once again feels very appropriate.

There is nothing that competes with habit
And I know it’s neither deep nor tragic
But simply that you have to have it

So you can make a killing
So you can make a killing
So you can make a killing

I wish I was both young and stupid
Then I too could have the fun that you did
Till it was time to pony up what you bid

So you can make a killing
So you can make a killing
So you can make a killing

I could follow you and search the rubble
Or stay right here and save myself some trouble
I try to keep myself from seeing double

Or I could make a killing
Or I could make a killing
Or I could make a killing

sorry i lost our love

The other night the bf and I were sitting around on my bed chatting, listening to music, drinking and stuff, and just having the best fucking time. We were laughing and kissing and carrying on. It was blissful. Then we both suddenly got quiet, and I started thinking about how guilty I still feel about the fact that I was never so happy with my ex. Before I could say anything, Dave told me that he had, in fact, been thinking that same thing. 

It gets easier with time, but I don’t think this is the sort of thing you ever really get over. And that’s okay. I don’t want to get over it. I do, however, hope that he finds the same happiness I have found. Her, too. 

I heard this song this morning.  (It’s on one of my Spotify playlists.)  It will always remind me of my first serious relationship. Isn’t it weird how songs can take you back to a very specific time in your life and stir up long forgotten feelings?

I heard the sound of your bike as your wheels hit the gravel
Then your engine in the driveway cutting off
And I pushed through the screen door and I stood out on the porch
Thinking fight, fight, fight at all costs

But instead I let you in just like I’ve always done
I sat you down and offered you a beer
And across the kitchen table, I fired several rounds
But you were still sitting here when the smoke cleared

And you came crawling back
To say that you wanna make good in the end
And oh, oh let me count the ways that I abhor you

And you were never a good lay
And you were never a good friend
But, oh, oh, oh what can I say
I adore you, oh

All I need is my leather, one t-shirt and two socks
I’ll keep my hands warm in your pockets and you can use the engine block
And we’ll ride out to California with my arms around your chest
And I’ll pretend that this is real ‘cuz this is what I like best

And you’ve been juggling two women like a stupid circus clown
Telling us both we are the one
And maybe you can keep me from ever being happy
But you’re not gonna stop me from having fun

So let’s go before I change my mind
I’ll leave the luggage of all your lies behind
‘Cuz I am bigger than everything that came before

And you were never very kind
And you let me way down every time
But oh, oh, oh what can I say
I adore you

Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh

I heard the sound of your bike
As your wheels hit the gravel
Then your engine in the driveway
Cutting off


It’s emotionally exhausting to constantly go from feeling depressed to chastising yourself for not appreciating how lucky you are.

I need my emotions to even out.  I’m worried the next few months will be hard for me, as everything is a reminder of what I was doing one year ago. Those reminders then lead me to worry if a year from now I’ll be back in that same place.

I can’t live like this.

The rational part of me understands that sometimes I just need to release these thoughts, and then I will feel better.  Hence this post. 

It’s hard to be rational when your head is cloudy from pain and drugs. But I will try.

It’s okay to be sad sometimes.
It’s okay to worry that my cancer will come back.
It’s okay to cry.

It’s not okay to let these things take over for very long.
It’s not okay to waste this second chance.
I’m lucky.
My kid is healthy, smart, sweet, and amazing. He knows I adore him.
I’m in love and it’s intoxicating.
I’m successful.
I’m well loved, and I know it.
I’m lucky.

That helped.

on my mind

  • Since getting back from Mexico, I have been so sick. I’m pretty sure it’s because I slipped up and brushed my teeth with tap water once. Ugh. It’s getting slowly better. I’m trying to decide if it’s worth a trip to the doctor. It’s definitely interfering with my running, which sucks because the half-marathon is like 11 days away.
  • I’m so not ready to run 13.1 miles. The farthest I’ve gone is 10.  I know I can do it, but will I do it as fast as I’d like? I’m crazy nervous about it. 
  • I bought a pair of leggings today (my first pair ever) while I was at Target, and holy shit these things are comfy. 
  • I also bought a scale today.  It’s not pretty, but I’ve caught it early, and only need to lose about 10 pounds. Or maybe just 5 pounds…I don’t really know.  It’s hard to figure out what is a realistic weight that I can actually maintain without giving up all the stuff I enjoy. 
  • I’m way over Tamoxifen. 
  • People I know on Facebook are seriously pissing me off with their astounding ignorance. I need to just avoid it until the government shutdown/Obamacare nonsense is over. 
  • If somebody sends me one of those FB messages all about changing my status to something stupid like listing the color of my bra to promote breast cancer awareness, I’M GOING TO FLIP MY SHIT. DON’T EVEN GO THERE WITH ME…I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD.
  • I’m feeling quite rage-y about breast cancer this week. I know it is because it has almost been a year since my diagnosis.  I’ve been thinking about it a lot recently, and I imagine it will be on my mind a lot for the next few months.  October 2012 was the start of a year of hell for me, and came on the heels of the great separation/divorce drama of 2012.  Fuck 2012. So fucking hard. 
  • Divorce is pissing me off this week too, but I won’t go there. 

It’s really hard to explain how I’m feeling, but I’m going to try.  Sometimes I feel hopeful.  Sometimes I’m scared out of my mind.  Most of the time, however, I just feel really tired. I have been taking Xanax to help me sleep, and it makes me feel kind of out of it the next morning.

I’m trying to come to terms with what is happening here.  I know it’s real, but it doesn’t feel real.  It’s like a really bad dream, from which I can’t wake up. 

I feel betrayed by my body.

I feel rage whenever I think about my breasts. I look down at them, and I wish they were already gone.

I feel sad when I wash and/or style my hair.  I have hated my hair my entire life, but now that I’m faced with the very real possibility of losing it, I feel like crying.  My hair is actually really awesome.  It’s thick and shiny. It’s a nice color, and finally getting to the length I wanted.  But soon it will be gone.  I’ll lose my breasts.  I’ll lose my hair. Maybe I’ll even lose my life.

This is so fucking unfair. I’m only 33 years old.

I don’t know what to do or what to say.  How do I act normally when my entire world has been ripped apart?