Real Talk Tuesday

Real talk Tuesday.

In 2012 I started a journey. I worked really hard to not be overweight. I worked really hard to be able to run half marathons, and do a 5k a few times a week to help maintain a healthy weight. I worked really hard to not be the person who made jokes to hide behind being uncomfortable in my body. I worked really hard to gain a balanced mindset of not being completely obsessed with food, yet being mindful of what’s going in and how it’s burned as fuel. I worked really hard to be comfortable in my own skin. Not skinny, but strong. I worked really hard to be physically and mentally strong. I worked hard to not size up a room to see if I was the biggest person there. I worked really hard to not feel judged for treating myself once a week. I worked really hard.

I went from running half marathons to......

Wearing long tops, black leggings, and layers-mostly to hide any leaks from my Depends. Oh and carrying more weight on my body and IN the giant bag with all the Depends and a change of clothes.

Cancer has taken a lot from me. However, I am bound and determined that it will NOT permanently derail the mindset I worked so hard to overcome. I am 37lbs heavier than I was when I first walked into the oncology office. NONE of my old clothes fit. I am heavy and tired. If I’m honest, sometimes I am tempted to give up-to feel sorry for myself and just sit down permanently.

When you think of cancer you think of someone bald, gaunt, and puking. THANKFULLY this was NOT me. Except for the puking. There was some puking but mainly heartburn and constipation from the pit of hell. I got through treatment with minimal weight gain-I mean I was really bloated from medication but felt like it was manageable and that I would be back to myself in no time.

Fast forward to after treatment, I was working really hard to get back to feeling like me again. The fatigue was so intense that it was a constant struggle to stay active and continue normal day to day activities. BUT I started working with an oncology trained nutritionist and making head way learning what was best for my post cancer body.  About the time I started gaining some momentum, I found out I still had cancer and needed surgery. The radical hysterectomy left my hormones jacked up and my body in a state of “woah” it had not had before. THEN, I had the abscess and THEN the fistula developed. Final result...my body is a mess. And guess what? Friday...like three days from now...I have another surgery. My stomach will be opened yet AGAIN and this time my leg is going to be messed up for a while since they are grafting tissue. <sigh>

I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking what I keep trying to tell myself. YOU ARE ALIVE. All of the above. All of it. It had to happen in order for me to live. However, it doesn’t make it any easier to deal with, when you’re in the midst of this battle for your mind. What I mean by that is that I feel like there is a constant battle for “how” I talk to myself. Yes, I realize that I am alive and here. The last thing I want to do is minimize that miracle. However, if I’m being real-being in my body right now is hard. It doesn’t look or feel the way it did before cancer and menopause. I had never experienced feeling like the vessel I’m in, isn’t me... until now. However, if I really think about it-it is very much me. It is where I am right now. It is what I have right now.

Cancer left me with a vessel that feels broken down, heavy, and tired. It’s going to get a little worse before it gets better, but it’s going to get better. There is a plan forward.

Had to document what I hope to be my last purchase of Depends for a LOOONG time!!

FORWARD!!!

The Walking Dead

We are well into March and as I prepare for my upcoming surgery, I can’t help but think of where I was one year ago. Time has just stood still for the past 13 months but yet so much has happened. I don’t know if that even makes sense, to most people. Surely those who have experienced some sort of trauma or life altering event, has felt the same?  In many ways my world completely stopped, yet a lifetime of crap just happened.

This time last year, I was getting ready to start chemotherapy and radiation. I was terrified but the thing I struggled with most was the fact that I may loose my hair. I was scared of dying and fighting death, while bald. Man. Looking back, I would take being temporarily bald over most of what has happened to me over the last year. I had no idea how much treatment would change my body and psyche and I certainly didn't expect infertility, sexual dysfunction, incontinence, bladder and bowel issues, just to name the major ones. Right now, I am cancer free but having such a hard time with post radiation side effects, that I am having to fight for the joy that I am “supposed” to feel about not having cancer. My counselor has talked to me a lot about these “supposed to” statements that I tell myself often. (I do this in almost every area of my life). If she were sitting here with me this morning, she would say, “Holly, why do you feel like you are supposed to feel a certain way? It’s not wrong to be mad that you’re dealing with this.” To which, I would say say through tears, “I know, but I feel like I should just be happy that I’m not dying anymore, what’s wrong with me?” And she would be her usually awesome self and tell me that nothing is wrong with me and it’s completely okay to be happy that I’m not dying AND mad that I’m facing another surgery and that each day, right now is hard and a fight.

It’s weird. It makes me think about The Walking Dead. I have this odd relationship with the TWD because last year when I started treatment, is when I started watching it. It was one of my “things” that got me through. I know that probably sounds completely ridiculous if you’ve never been sick and home-bound, but trust me, it was one of my “things” like Chick-Fil-A. (Chick Fil-A was one of the only things that tasted good to me on chemo, and every week I would go right after treatment. The radiation people even knew that I would be late on Thursdays because I had chemo and I WAS going to Chic-Fil-A, even if it meant that I would have to be worked in at radiation). BUT I digress.

In TWD world a lot of people don’t make it. It is a harsh world of daily survival. Some just don’t have the fight in them. Some opt out, deciding to take their own life. Some go down swinging. We all would like to think we would be a “Rick” and rise to the occasion,be a leader, and kick so much ass in the process. BUT as we have seen in season 7-even the toughest dudes are being challenged. In many ways, it would just be easier to die because living in that world is so incredibly hard. In the last part of the mid season finale, Michonne talks to Rick, who is wanting to give up. He feels like it would just be easier to give up on having a life that means anything, and just exist under Negan(who is basically an evil warlord). She gives this amazing monologue about how much they have been through, yet they are still there-together and alive. They are outnumbered and have lost so much. They shouldn’t have lived this long, but they have. How do they make being alive mean something?

That scene has resonated with me since October.

I have literally thought about it every day.

I feel like I live in TWD sometimes. Most days, it would just be easier to give up. I know there are people who have it much worse, and I “should” just exude only gratefulness and get over myself. My heart is grateful for my very life, but I am learning more and more each day, that having life and living are two completely different things. You can be alive but not living. How do you make being alive mean something than just existing? I could very well not be here. I could very well have died from cancer or complications from treatment. I didn’t. I could have died in the fall when my body was on the verge of sepsis, but I didn’t. Any day, cancer could come back and I could find myself deep in the fight again, but that hasn’t happened. It may never happen. Am I wounded and afraid of the next chapter?  Have I seen and experienced more in 13 months than many do in a life span? Yes. But I am here. And what I choose to do with being here-depends on me. What I choose.

I feel like almost every blog has just been repetitive of the last, with me beating the dead of horse of “choice.” BUT when I set out to share my story, I vowed to be honest and I feel like I am constantly having to learn and relearn this lesson.I just can’t reiterate enough that this is daily-at least for me. At least for this season. I have to constantly choose living and when I fail-retreat and stay at home because it's just too hard to make it for the day-either physically or emotionally- I have to then choose grace over guilt, mercy over shame. I can be really hard on myself when I fail at this or anything, really. BUT cancer and life after cancer is teaching me so much about grace and mercy,  for myself-even for others. I never expected for cancer to make me less judgmental.

My hope is, that by my being transparent in this whole process and things I am continuing to learn-that someone else might say, “me too!” to anything that I write about. Whether you are a cancer survivor or not. Maybe you find yourself struggling with the hand life has dealt you or maybe you are reading this and thinking, you’re good and have a decent grip on life. Maybe you struggle with self imposed guilt or silently being judgmental towards others. I don’t know. I do know there is strength in self reflecting and allowing yourself to be teachable. There is strength in asking yourself hard questions, especially when you know you’re not going to like the answer. Or maybe you have to sit with not knowing the answers, and that’s okay too.
Courage is digging for bravery in a world where living is the harder choice. Retreating and just existing is so much easier than flourishing, but where is the courage in that? Anyone can do that. And for what? I want to make my being here mean something.

Part of my flourishing in pain, is telling my story. I had the opportunity to do this for the first time, at the end of February at the NCCC-Fort Worth Chapter fundraiser. Here I am with several new friends, and cervical cancer survivors.

**I designed a t-shirt to help begin conversations about cervical cancer and prevention. All proceeds will go to help me with past and current medical expenses/unpaid leave. Please consider purchasing a shirt or making a donation. THANK YOU!
www.bonfire.com/start-the-conversation/

.

Lessons of Winter

Winter can conjure images of staying warm by a cozy fire, snuggled safely with those you love most. You can also imagine one staggering in the bitter cold, trying to find his way while fighting the elements. I wish I could say that this winter had been one of coziness, where my heart found a relaxing peace, where safety was ensured and my chest was able to breathe a giant sigh of relief. It has actually been the exact opposite. However, what I find to be fascinating is this theme that continues to play itself out in my journey, and that is-the “place” that I seek to find after cancer, this place of relief and safety, it doesn’t exist. It never really did. Since this is an idea, rather than an actual place that we arrive in our lives-how do we sanely carry on?

I went back to work in early November thinking it was the beginning of getting back to myself. 2016 had looked like port surgery, chemotherapy, radiation, five internal radiation treatments, and finally a radical hysterectomy to remove remaining recurrent cancer. Surely, although slow, recovery had begun. I started to denounce the comments of “I bet you’re just ready to get this behind you and get back to normal.” Cancer had been gigantic. Yes, I did want to get it behind me, but I had started to come to terms with there being a “new normal,” as nothing about my body or thought life was “normal” or the way it used to be.

One week into work, I started feeling terrible. I had pain that continued to get worse and the fatigue was so drastic that I was literally bed ridden. After weeks of trying to figure out what was going on, a pelvic CT revealed I had an abscess. I was hospitalized for several days to get the infection under control, and was eventually sent home on IVs and rest. This was a setback, but I was still on my way to recovering.

A day after being home, I started having incontinence issues. SURELY this was not what I thought it was. My OB/GYN oncologist and I had discussed the risk of fistulas from day one of knowing I needed surgery, but I had had both an in office fistula test and a cystogram at the hospital. Both of them were negative. This had to be something else.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t. I went in for an exam and another in office test and my doctor did not even have to complete the test before the fistula presented itself. It was bad. It was large and evident that surgery would the only way to “hopefully” repair the pathway. It was going to be a slow process, since I had been exposed to so much radiation. Rushing me off into surgery was not going to fix this. I was going to have to live with this for a while.

I cried. I cried a lot. I just couldn’t believe this was happening to me. Why? Why wouldn’t cancer and it’s stupid side effects go away? Hadn’t I done everything I was supposed to? Even mentally, hadn’t I done the thing survivors are supposed to do-accept the new normal? Hadn’t I already accepted that I had permanent ringing in my ears from chemo, a damaged vagina, 38 and in menopause, infertility, and that my body had just been through hell and back in order for me to be alive? NOW I was 38 and in Depends too?

The first two weeks of this, I mostly sat. I sat at home waiting for my next round of IVs and in an adult diaper. I didn’t want to do anything or go anywhere. However, soon my body started to feel better. I could tell the drugs were working on the abscess and physically I was feeling good. I was still in a diaper, but I felt better than I had in months. Now what? Here I was better, but still with this GIGANTIC issue and waiting for surgery. I felt like everywhere I turned, it was a fight both physically and mentally. I wrestled a lot with what I was going to do with this. I felt the unfairness of this life and the ugly truth of what cancer and treatment had done to my body.

One day, I can’t pinpoint the exact day, but I remember hearing my oncologist's words in my head, "Holly this happened because I had to perform a surgery to save your life. You still had cancer and without your hysterectomy you would have only lived maybe three more years. You have every right to be mad at this and angry, but you are alive and can get through this or whatever is next." I heard her words, that I hadn't thought about in weeks, and I decided to get up. I had to keep on fighting. I was missing out on life. I was CHOOSING to hold myself back. I couldn’t sit any longer. Was going about normal activities going to be difficult? Sure it was. Was I possibly going to have an accident on myself while shopping? Yep. Was it going to be uncomfortable and somewhat stressful feeling like people could smell me or know I was wearing a diaper? Oh yeah!

But I wanted to LIVE.

I honestly have felt like the past 12 months have been winter-the picture where I am fighting the elements. It has been one thing after another. Fight after fight. This last experience has shown me that there really is no true safe place that we arrive, where life is easy. There will be seasons that are better than others, and I pray that I am on the cusp of one of those. BUT there really is no place that is completely out of the harshness of the elements. Not for anyone. It is a choice that we must make. For me, I am in a season where I must choose life daily. I must choose happiness instead of bitterness, contentment over self pity, the positive over the negative, bravery over fear. Some days, some moments, I fail at this miserably. And when I do, I wipe myself off, dry up the tears(and there are many), and get back up because I am alive. It may be winter, but I want to live.

Craig Sager speaks on choosing hope, seeing his cup half full, and the fight!

*I designed a shirt, to bring awareness to cervical cancer and to help raise money to cover the expenses of this past year and the surgery to come. The campaign is live on Bonfire until February 20th. Check it out!

www.bonfire.com/start-the-conversation/

Things I'm Loving in October

I started blogging to find my voice in telling my story, because when I was first diagnosed with cancer, I wanted to hide. I didn't want to tell anyone or even say "cancer." I began to find writing emails to my closest friends, to be therapeutic-which turned into the idea to blog. I had no idea, and still don't, if anyone else is even interested in hearing from me BUT for my own sanity-it's important for me to get it out there. I have found so much healing and strength in getting stuff out of my head and "on to paper." A wonderful friend who happens to be an awesome blogger, has encouraged me to try some different formats and to have fun with writing. So, I decided to start with a list of things I am currently loving in October!

1. LulaRoe

I discovered LLR on Instagram and was kind of confused. I loved some of the bright fun patterns, but couldn’t really figure out what it was or where to get it, just knew I thought it was cool. Then, enters a FB friend who wasn’t even a friend, but the daughter of a friend, who was starting her LLR business. I shopped her Facebook sale and got a couple of things that I ended up REALLY enjoying. But the real love for LLR has been since I had my hysterectomy. Y’all, a hysterectomy changes your body. I feel like I am wearing an inner tube around my pelvis. Seriously. The swollen belly is a real thing, even weeks after. And I have read that it can take quite some time for this to go down, even with diet and exercise. My pre-surgery pants do not fit. SO, I bought some LLR pieces because I’m going to need some staple items for when I go back to work. These clothes feel SO good and make me feel pretty!! I’m not kidding! They are flattering for all body types and I LOVE LOVE LOVE that the patterns are limited. So, that means you’re not wearing the same things as everyone else. How Fun! If you're interested check out my friends online boutique. (You can totally shop in your pajamas. LOVE IT!)

https://www.facebook.com/groups/LuLaRoeRobinDavis/

2. Trader Joe’s Tea Tree Tingle

The past 10 months has been crazy for my body-all sorts of things have gone wonky, including my scalp and hair. I cannot explain how grateful I am that I was able to keep a full head of hair during chemotherapy. However, the chemo and radiation dried out my hair severely and then the hormone changes have done a number on my scalp. Now that I am months out from treatment, my hormones continue to be a source of contention, as I’m 37 and in menopause. This has caused me to have patches of red, flaky, irritation on my scalp, almost like psoriasis. These patches itch, flake, and then burn really badly. I tried dandruff shampoo that helped some with flaking, but didn’t soothe. My sister suggested TJs Tea Tree Tingle shampoo and conditioner.

Y’all….it feels so good and smells awesome-like you’re a koala in a eucalyptus tree. (Do koalas hang out in those, I think they do?) Anyway, I have been so pleased with the way it naturally conditions my scalp and hair. The patches have actually gotten better, so I feel like it’s treating it and not just putting a bandage on the issue. AND it is so reasonably priced at around $4 a bottle.

3. Crispy Mornings

Texas pretty much has the seasons of summer, summer, winter, summer. Not kidding. AND this is the time of year where the weather acts like it has a personality disorder. We are having some cool/mild days and then days where it is sunny and 90. BUT, for the most part we are having some crisp(at least for DFW) mornings.

I am really loving being able to take Luna out for a walk and us both feeling like we can go a little further because we aren’t dying, since the doctors have told me to walk as much as possible. These mornings lend themselves to hoodies, cardigans, and an extra cup of coffee.

4. Shannon Dingle’s Blog

I found Shannon Dingle through my blogger friend (as mentioned above),Casey Chappell. Casey connected me with Shannon Dingle after we had sat over lunch and coffee several times discussing the church, social justice, the current election, life, adoption, police brutality, faith, Jim Crow, Jesus, racial reconciliation, national debt, immigration, refugees, white privilege etc. What I have found to be encouraging about Shannon's blog is that she is unapologetically a lover of Christ, but is not afraid to ask hard questions and enter into hard conversations. She is not afraid to say the things that a lot us are thinking and is willing to risk being labeled a (insert giant gasp) liberal because her conviction is to love first. I am learning a lot about myself these days-and feel like I have wrongfully been unteachable in the past and unwilling to listen to other views. I want to be rooted in the gospel, not some American "cultural gospel" that is another from of the prosperity BS that we so often speak against. I’m loving her blog because she is helping me find a voice and tease through a lot that is whirling around in my heart and brain.
http://www.shannondingle.com/blog
http://www.caseychappell.com/

5. This is Us

So being on medical leave, for the second time this year as left me with watching more TV than I have in the past 10 years of my life. I’m a news junkie, but you can only listen to it for so long. AND with this being an election year, sometimes you just need to check out from reality and watch something that is not directly related to current events.
“This is Us” on NBC is so fantastic.

The writing on this show is amazing. I think that some of my love for this show is due to the fact that it follows characters who are 36 years old. And since I am right around that age, I TOTALLY feel like I connect with these characters, the questions they are asking themselves, and the lives they lead and WISH to lead. If you are looking for a meaningful drama that has the perfect combination of twists and turns, this is your show. Kudos to these writers!

6. Nightgowns

Why have I not been wearing nightgowns?? When I found out that the next stage of treatment was a hysterectomy, I sat down with a friend who has had one, for what to expect and tips. One of the first things she suggested was nightgowns. Nightgowns?? I’m a pajama or yoga pants girl-a nightgown? I haven’t worn a nightgown since I was a kid, and isn't that what grandma’s wear? She suggested gowns because when you’ve had major abdominal surgery and swelling, you don’t really want anything touching your stomach. Sounded reasonable, so I got several before my surgery and they have been a LIFESAVER! The ease of having something on, that provides coverage for when you have guests, that does not bother incisions and provides easy access for the restroom is AWESOME.  It has been the BEST tip I received and I am loving them. I am rocking the granny gowns with pride and plan to find some not so granny-ish ones when I’m all healed up. I have found a wide variety at Kohls. So I guess you could say, thanks to Amy Cox, I am loving nightgowns AND Kohls.

7. Cervivor

The power of social media is mind boggling to me sometimes. The power of a hashtag and the ability to search and find those dealing with the same thing is pretty cool. Since my cervical cancer diagnosis, I started taking advantage of social media as I had never known someone with my kind of cancer and felt like I needed to read and connect as much as possible. Knowledge is power, right? So through social media I have found tons of encouragement and camaraderie in the cancer survivor community. The most encouraging has been through an organization founded by Tamika Felder, called Cervivor.

Felder is a cervical cancer survivor who started the organization to bring women together, to help them find sisterhood, and to educate them; preparing them to be the very best advocate possible for cervical cancer and HPV. The website itself is packed full of stories and resources, so helpful for someone with a diagnosis or caregiver. Part of Cervivor is “Cervivor School” where women actually spend the weekend together connecting and learning-preparing them for advocacy. These are held all throughout the states during the year, making them accessible to most everyone. I cannot WAIT to attend one of these!!! Cancer has a funny way of setting you on fire for the things you love, desire, and dream. Part of my dream is advocacy, telling my story, and survivor empowerment. I look forward to learning with other women and refining those skills to be the very best I can possibly be. In the meantime, I am loving cervivor.org and encourage you to check it out!

http://www.tamikafelder.com/

http://cervivor.org/

Leaning into the Storm of Cancer

You may have read them-the “What Not to Say to People with Cancer” articles. I used to skim over them, thinking I was all good. Me? I would NEVER say anything to offend someone with cancer! I am a thoughtful person-I’m the person who won’t even tell someone I’m praying for them unless I can actively remember to do so, so yeah...I was good I didn’t need to read such articles.

WRONG!!

‘Cause guess what? When you’re on the other side and actually HAVE cancer and a gynecological one at that-AND one that is caused by a virus. Guess what? People say some crazy shit. Stuff you would never imagine would cross the lips of someone who is supposed to care about you. Now, as I stated, I see myself as a reasonable person-so most of this crap I worked really hard to brush off and tell myself, “Well, they are well intended. They didn’t mean it the way it sounded.” My counselor even worked with me on phrases to shut people down in person. She encourages me to tell people they are being jerks, but I am still trying to find that voice. Perhaps this is it, through this blog post. I usually just tell myself that people don’t mean it really,  and then later call my absolute closest people to vent or screenshot messages from people and type in all caps to my best friend. I have found lots of articles on this subject, yet when meeting other survivors it is often a main topic of conversation. It’s hard enough having freaking cancer, and managing the feelings of those who are the very closest. Much less managing idiots on the fringe, who think they “have to say something.” Why is that? I think it’s because no one really cares until it’s them or someone they love. Like really love. So if you’re reading this and think you don’t need to, then you’re the exact person who does. If you're gonna lean into this storm, be prepared to be uncomfortable and teachable.

Here are some common mistakes that I have personally experienced MORE than once.

1. If someone you know gets a diagnosis and you find yourself overwhelmed with not knowing what to say-figure that out before opening your mouth. What I mean is, if you’re not comfortable saying something, just wait. That’s okay. You don’t have to say anything right away and perhaps you’re in shock yourself and need sometime to gather your own emotions and thoughts. That is better than getting in front of the person, fumbling, and saying something trite. Survivors are fighting. Really fighting, real things-life and death stuff at any given moment. REAL. We don’t want to hear trite empty sayings-we know to hang in there, we know to keep our head up. Perhaps instead of throwing out a “chicken soup for the soul” comment you could say, “I’m thinking of you.” or “I’m here for you.” or something I personally appreciated was someone acknowledging my pain by saying something like “I’m so sorry you’re having to deal with this. This sucks.” or “I know things are really hard right now, I can’t imagine.” THOSE seem more real and do not minimize the person’s cancer. The prior ones, that are more of a “hang in there” often make the survivor feel like cancer is not a big deal, and that you’re equating it with having a bad week or day. If you are really close with the survivor just being WITH them can make a difference.
2. If someone you know gets a diagnosis of a gynecological cancer or oral cancer that is caused by HPV, they already feel the very real stigma of that. You turning up your nose and saying, “Isn’t that caused by an STD?” Or “Isn’t that preventable?” Yeah, that doesn’t help the survivor, makes them feel shame, guilt, and again minimizes the pain and fear they are feeling with a cancer diagnosis.
3. In my personal case, I had not had a pap in several years. They were a few people who said things like, “WHY?? Oh I bet your oncologist got all over you for that!!” To which I had to say(after picking my jaw up off the floor), “Actually no she didn’t. She encouraged me that I can’t change the past but can change the future. She didn’t shame me for choices I have already made.” Y’all, I would say this was one of the most hurtful. If your friend or loved one missed paps and abnormal cells have grown and she gets a full blown cancer diagnosis, the LAST thing she needs is YOU making her feel guilty for not staying on top of check ups. I personally have reasons why I didn’t go, which will need to be another post, but listen to me; while there may be truth in those words, when you’re facing CANCER, you do not need people in your life making you feel worse about ANYTHING.
4. If you are someone who is into alternative/preventive medicine, great. I am super into nutrition, highly believe in it and there is a place and time for that conversation. But only if the opportunity presents itself, or you are very close with the survivor, and you feel they are open. Walk lightly.  I had two people, independent from the other, tell me in the height of treatment, that I needed to eat more mushrooms and the other was pushing cloves. Again, I feel these people were well intended but honestly I am not super close with either of these people-one came in the form of a message and the person had not said boo to me the entire time, and the other was from someone who said this definitively, in passing. Y’ALL!!! Seriously?? Again, it  minimizes cancer and invalidates the survivors treatment. I understand that there are cases where the survivor has been in constant treatment for months/ years and there may be an opportunity for someone to say, “Hey, have you talked your doctor or thought about___?” But most of the time that is just not going to be your place unless you are walking very closely with the survivor.
5. If the loved one is diagnosed with a cancer that will or has the potential to make the survivor infertile, PLEASE don’t say “Well, there’s always adoption. Lots of kids out there need a home.” It’s not that this, among the other things are not true-it’s that when you are in the throws of cancer AND you’re losing fertility, it sucks. It’s painful. It’s so overwhelming and can make you feel sorrow on a level you weren’t sure even existed. To hear someone say, “Well, you can always adopt…” makes the survivor feel like their feelings and emotions of grief and sadness are not warranted and again, minimizes what they are facing. We KNOW there is adoption. We aren’t stupid, we are grieving a loss, a death of a dream that has been inside since we were little girls playing with baby dolls. Yes, there is adoption and it is oh so beautiful, but let us grieve and feel what we are losing.
6. Lastly, try to steer away from the, “If you need anything, let me know.” I know, you’re probably thinking, what is wrong with that?? Well, you see when you get a cancer diagnosis you are completely overwhelmed and your brain is in a thousand different places from-What am I going to do about work? How am I going to take care of my kids? How much is this going to cost? How long is this going to take? Am I going to die? For myself, I am already the person who is notorious for not asking for help and trying to do everything on my own, so I have grown a lot during this time. After talking with other survivors though, I have concluded that when someone is specific it is waay more helpful. For example, “I’m coming over on Tuesday to bring you food and will do any errands you need.” or “I am coordinating a dog walking schedule for you or a meal schedule for you.” or “I’m coming to take the kids on Friday night to a movie and dinner, so you don’t have to worry about that.” THOSE things are so helpful and takes the thinking responsibility from the survivor. The survivor doesn’t need something else to think about. Even the smallest gesture can go long way. Think about times when you yourself have been sick with something like the flu-what were some things that were hard for you to get done? Think about your survivor feeling like that long term, and get creative in some specific things you may be able to help with.

I guess my overall advice would be to be more quiet than not, if you’re feeling unsure. Be present for your survivor but don’t feel like you always have to have the “right words.” Sometimes not saying anything and just being-is the very best. I would even go as far to say, if you feel like you need to “say” something and you’re not sure...say THAT. I found so much comfort when people close and not that close to me said things like, “Holly, I’m sorry. I just don’t know what to say.”

A cancer diagnosis of any kind or stage is hard. If you’re feeling overwhelmed, think about how much more the person you love with cancer feels. I have found for myself and other survivors, you really find out who is legit and who’s not. It surprised me who leaned in and who steered away. If you’re gonna lean in-be thoughtful and present. Your survivor may not have the ability to say it, but she needs you.

I have had an army of support and don't have pictures of everyone, but here are several of my people who chose to lean in. 

Dry Shampoo and Coffee

It’s Saturday morning and as I sit with coffee in hand, my mind is still on a reel from the past several weeks. The only thing that keeps coming to my mind is “How did I do that?” This month comes in, in at least the top three most stressful eras I have faced. I teach at what is considered a satellite campus for the district. The first week of school was a MONSTER. Did I mention the internet being down and parents impatiently making requests for registration that I could not grant and administrators frantically demanding paper work?  As a PreK teacher the first day is very chaotic and stressful as there are tears and often blood curdling screams from students and sometimes parents, who are emotional leaving their babies for the first time. This year was no different. Thankfully by day two internet had been restored and we were able to continue with enrollment (notice I said enrollment and not teaching…somehow I was expected to do both. I’m good but not that good). The building had flooded two weeks prior, so we had gotten in with JUST enough time to set up. Documents were damaged in the flood and paper work was missing that had to be redone for registration. I have many English language learners and really cannot explain to you how extremely stressful it is to walk refugee parents with limited language, through online registration. Yet, all of the above, oddly enough, are reasons I love my job. I love the population I serve in a Title 1 program. My heart is there. It thrives there. In the midst of the crazy and the stress, I was beginning to feel like me again. Not the cancer patient. Not that one teacher who had cancer and was out last spring. But me. The old me.'

In the middle of first week chaos, I had an oncology follow-up and results from the biopsies taken the week prior. Unfortunately, the news was not good. Cancer remains. Right now the treatment will be surgery and depending on how surgery goes maybe another round of chemotherapy. My heart is so thankful for an oncologist who will sit and talk to me. Who will shoot straight with me, who I feel has my best interest at heart. I am beyond thankful for a plan forward. I trust her with my very life.

Yet…I am so sick of being sick. Wasn’t I JUST starting to gain some energy? Wasn’t I JUST feeling like me again? And now major surgery?? I am tired of this. I long for normalcy, but I don’t even know what that is. I was looking through photos last night and can’t even pinpoint when things changed. I can kind of get it within a few months, but not really. Part of me wants things to go back to how it was before cancer, but I know I never can. And would I really choose that anyway?  I am not the same person. I don’t even feel like I look like the same woman and on a realistic note, it has aged the hell out of me. Inside, I am changed beyond what I can fully explain. Perspective shift is an understatement. I see absolutely nothing the way I did before. Nothing. Even the, “Oh wait, you still have cancer” thing looks and feels completely different on this side.  Before, cancer was unknown. I didn’t even want to say the word. I was completely fearful, and unsure. I am still those things to an extent, but it feels more familiar. I have been around it a lot, which is the part that makes me feel comfortable yet afraid because I have watched with my eyes what it can do. The fact that mine is still hanging around is unnerving and yes, I am afraid. Yet there IS a plan forward and reasons to be thankful.

Which leads me to lay out the constant conversation I have been having with myself the past few weeks….Can you be afraid and unsettled YET still thankful there is a plan? Can you admit fear and still have faith in the One who holds your very life? Can you admit your weakness, weariness, and frustration and STILL be thankful there is a plan forward in treatment? 

Every single one of those feels like they are in opposition to one another but I feel every single one of those-at any given moment. At any point during my recent days I have been on the verge of either tears of fatigue, tears of fear, tears of frustration, tears of thankfulness and humility, OR cursing out of frustration because people want to either act like I’m their hero (which can feel very uncomfortable) OR like NOTHING has happened, or cursing out of frustration that I have been feeling more like me and now I am getting my legs kicked in again. Now, you tell me….does THAT sound like someone who trusts in God’s plan for her life? Does that look like someone who has it together and is holding fast to her faith?

How beautiful and amazing, that the answer to those questions is a big fat NO…..yet a big fat YES at the same time? See, God is showing me that admitting my weakness is actually strength. Y’all, I’m talking about the kind of weakness where you cry out in tears, throw up your hands, and yell out some F bombs because you got nothing. I’m talking about admitting that you are terrified that cancer will not ever fully go away and you’re bound to a life of treatment. I’m talking about admitting that you don’t understand why God chose you to carry this burden, even if just for a season. I’m talking about weakness, where you say “I’m confused by God’s choice for ME to not have biological kids, but I see first-hand, every day, selfish adults who appear to be baby factories.” I’m talking about asking God why He asked me to do this for a little bit longer.

The beauty of it is that when our hearts get to that point and we are stripped naked with nothing left to hold on to-and we admit out weakness, we have a choice. We can either continue to wallow in those questions and live in limbo and anger OR we can choose to lay them at the feet of the One who made us. Think about it. He made me. He knows I am pissed. He knows I am scared and afraid. He knows I am wondering how in the world He will redeem this? The absolute beauty of the gospel is that I can be honest with Him, He can hold me in my weakness and that I am may NEVER understand any of this….but He will hold me. AND in my weakness, I may crawl out of His lap several times a day, thinking “I got this” “I can do this now”….. and when I finally start seeing how very much “I don’t have it” and how “I can’t do it, “ He scoops me right back up and I bury my head in His lap and weep.

The truth is, I am no one’s hero. I am weak. I do not have it together in any way. I just admitted to you that I am basically on the verge of either tears or cursing, at any given moment. I am not “doing great” and I feel like I hobble home every day and hobble around my house and then fall into bed. I really am mostly dry shampoo and coffee.

The only thing I know for sure, is that my heart desires to stay in His lap. I fail miserably at this daily, sometime multiple times. Maybe you do too? Is that okay? Does that make your faith weak? Does asking questions make you weak? I have personally never felt so close to God than I do now. It’s funny how that is. I have not been able to attend church regularly since February, I have said more F bombs in the last 8 months than I ever have in my life, I am admitting that there is a lot I do not understand and a lot that I want to go away, I am admitting that I am weak and want this cup to pass, and yet….He is with me. Daily I feel Him more than ever. As I hobble around my life, every moment I am aware of His presence and that only by His provision and goodness, am I here. He is here.

A flower I found on a walk this week.

Luna keeping me company after biopsy surgery.

New Girl Confessional

North Texas is known for many things, weird weather patterns on a regular basis, among them. A couple of weeks ago, we had pop up showers all day. While they are called “pop ups” you can usually look at the sky and use some common sense, to see it’s about to rain. I had been out earlier in the day and had experienced one of these showers, from the car. You know the kind, where it comes on suddenly and just down pours for like 10-15 min and then the sun is out?

Later in the evening, Luna needed to go for a walk. I looked out quickly to assess the weather situation and it was fine. Sun was shining-there were clouds but more sun, so Luna and I set out on our walk. We got about half a mile from home and I felt a drizzle. In my head, I thought it was no big deal-on days like this that happens sometimes and it’s SUPER SUNNY at this point, so I’m good. Man, before I could even figure out if we should turn around, the bottom dropped out. It started coming down so fast and every which a way-like sideways rain. My initial thought, was to take off running. So I did. That quickly turned into a not so great idea, as I felt every muscle in my lower half yelling at me-(this was around the time I started back running intervals and I was sore from running earlier in the day PLUS this time I was in flip flops). I slowed down because my thighs were on fire and I was just soaked. I noticed how wet my clothes were. They were feeling heavy and my hair had gotten so wet in just these quick moments that it was dripping. It didn’t matter if I ran, I was in a down pour and I was drenched already. I wasn’t stuck, like I could move-but in a sense, I was stuck. Because, it didn’t matter how quickly I ran to get home to shelter-I was already wet. There was nothing I could do about it. I looked down at Luna-and she was tongue out, ears perky happy. She was getting soaked but it didn’t matter to her-she was lovin' it. There was an extra spring in her step, as she must have felt so cool and refreshed. Luna wasn’t trying to get out of the situation, she totally embraced it. I wanted to be her.

In these moments (and they were quick mind you), I asked myself why couldn’t I be like her? As we walked back home, I resigned myself to the fact that yes, I was drenched from head to toe and that upon getting home, I would need to strip down and find us towels. After I accepted where I was in that, I intentionally let myself feel the rain coming down-the coolness of it and the sensation of it washing me. It felt pretty amazing. But it felt even better to let go of being frustrated that I was wet. I even started to smile. 

See, that whole incident helped me to see something in myself that I didn’t like. At first, I was mad that I was wet and wanted to get out of that situation as quickly as possible. I wanted so badly for the circumstances to be different and while the moments were quick, I had a choice to make. I could either A-be really mad that I was inconvenienced by getting wet and let that small snippet ruin the rest of my afternoon or B-embrace the fact that it was happening and accept that I could not change the circumstances, and even be intentional about finding joy.

All too often in life, I choose A. Like all the time I choose A, from small things to huge things. You know what A does? It makes you anxious, it makes you feel like a loser because you are pressuring yourself to change an impossible situation, it makes you bitter because things are out of your control, it makes you angry because you’re inconvenienced, and honestly it makes you selfish because you have an attitude that everything is about you. A is poisonous.

I am striving to choose B. I am working to accept the things in this life that I cannot change, the people I cannot change, and the circumstances that I long were different. AND to always, always, always find the most joy in the hand that I have been dealt-no matter how great or small. I could lie and say I only struggle in relinquishing control in the big things, because that would sound better, right? Like if I said, I’m striving to accept my infertility, people would be so understanding of that. Sadly, this is also a struggle for me in the small things too-like getting caught in a down pour, to Kroger being out of the Chobani I want, to people not being who I expect them to be, to traffic causing me stress or tardiness. You name it and I got issues if it’s not going my way. I struggle when things don’t go as planned, but the sad thing is-things RARELY do.

Thankfully I have had some amazing people speaking truth into my life and I understand the importance of striving to be gracious with myself in this, as B is NOT where my heart goes first most of the time. I am determined to not RUN from the difficulties at all and certainly not ignore the fact that they are hard, but to be intentional in my purpose of unearthing joy in the midst. Choosing B isn’t about ignoring reality, it’s about relinquishing control and finding rest.

Some people feel the rain others just get wet.

Bob Marely