A note mostly to myself

I needed a short nap this afternoon and that turned into sleeping like the dead for over three hours. I had to force myself out of bed. This new dose of gabapentin is doing so much for my pain that I’ve decided I would rather go back on Ritalin (for energy) than reduce the dose. So I guess I’ll start that tomorrow.

Is this really Christmas week? I can’t believe it. I don’t feel ready. I don’t feel jolly. I’ve been busting my ass to make this the “best Christmas ever” and yet I haven’t caught any of the Christmas spirit. I’ve gotten way too focused on this possibly being my last (or last good) Christmas, and I need to get out of my head. What if it is? So what, Jenn? Just enjoy it for whatever it is. That’s all you can do.

I saw this pic of myself from Friday night and I look fucking awful. My face is so fat, and I look like a sausage. I hate it. And I hate how much it matters to me; how much it affects my self-worth. I’ve been tearing myself apart recently. I’m too fat. I look old. My style is bad. My hair is too thin and too short. My skin is really showing signs of aging. I could go on and on. The grace I show others is non-existant for myself. I saw this meme and I’m trying to apply the sentiment to myself, because it’s so true:

I’ve been through so much this year. I’ve been in/at the hospital several times. The cancer meds have really kicked my ass. I spent half the year in bed. And yet, I’ve kept on keeping on. Shit isn’t perfect, but I’m fighting for my life (both literally and figuratively) and thriving despite it all. I’m not perfect. I’ll never be. I need to find a balance between fighting for what I want, accepting who I am/what I have right now, and gratitude.

A lot of my MBC sisters didn’t make it to Christmas this year. They would have given anything for one last holiday with their families and friends. Who cares about the rest of it? Be grateful. Always.

I’ve spent my entire life trying to be, or at least trying to appear, perfect. It was my way of controlling the chaos in which I grew up. I had an image in my mind of the person I want (needed) to be, and I have been striving to be her for over 40 years now. I’m exhausted. Nothing is ever good enough. I’m constantly disappointed in myself. It’s no way to live.

I love you, Jennifer. You’ve fought the good fight for a long time. You’re tired. Take a rest. Be kind to yourself. You are amazing. Believe it. ♥️

the big ask

Someone reached out to me yesterday to ask if I would have a difficult conversation with our mutual loved one. She has attempted the conversation herself only to be shut down, and, as she put it, I’m “the only one____ really listens to.”

It’s a conversation regarding health issues: both physical and mental. So I guess I’m going to do it, and hope for the best.

Luckily, I’m quite good/experienced at having difficult conversations where I tell someone something they don’t want to deal with. I mean…that’s essentially my entire job.

But still…ugh.


I had a breakdown in the middle of a hospital last night.

I was confused as to how to get out, because I’m directionally challenged on my best days, and I couldn’t find my keys, and I leaned against the wall and just started sobbing. After six hours of holding it all in, I just couldn’t anymore. A nurse came over and helped me find my way (and my keys).

There are still kind people in the world.

Then I ran into someone I kind of know and that was weird because we’re both there for awful reasons and there are other weird things going on and I think I was nice and comforting to her but I was in a daze so I don’t really know.

On my rush to the airport to pick up D, I went the wrong way onto the highway. I realized it almost right away, thankfully. I sobbed the entire way to the airport.

There’s no point to this other than to get it out. Maybe that will help. Gotta keep writing it out. It would be easy to just shut down. Can’t do that. Gotta keep it together.

My husband is devastated. It hurts to look at him. The sadness is just emanating from him.

I’m way off the rails with my diet and exercise. I look at myself and only see a mess that I need to clean up. It occurred to me, however, that this is exactly what’s wrong with society, and my mindset perpetuates that bullshit. And so, while I intend to start taking better care of myself, it’s going to be because I want to be healthier, and not because I need to fit some bullshit mold of what a woman should be/look like. I’m lovely as is: inside and out. I need to remember that impressionable minds are looking to me as a role model. I have to practice what I preach.

Get it together, Jenn.