Last week at the U.S. Presidential debate, I saw a women interrupted 51 times in 90 minutes by one man. I hate being interrupted. Actually, some interruptions are fun, the kind that you exchange with a friend with whom you share a great deal of empathy and can finish eachother’s sentences. Those interruptions show the strength of connection and intensify it. The interruptions I hate are the ones that change the subject, argue, and contradict. Repeated interruptions are like a salvo of little assaults that compromise one’s ability to share thoughts and feelings.  Interruptions are jarring and for me, they take me away from myself, at least where I was and where I wanted to go.

For many breast cancer patients in the U.S., October, “Breast Cancer Awareness Month” is an unwelcome interruption. Many people are active in advocacy for breast cancer research as well as for increasing access to quality healthcare. These are critically important concerns. Then the pink tsunami comes in and interrupts with new messages, one of using a disease as a marketing tactic and wrapping it in “awareness” a construct, which is vague and inoffensive. For those of us who do think about the word, awareness, thinking, is not enough. Awareness solves nothing once everyone is made aware and nothing else happens.

Breast cancer itself, was a major life interruption. I was 46, going about my middle-aged life assuming that my only health issues were that I was overweight and not exercising enough. Bam! Cancer! There were two years of starts and stops. Cancer treatment brings many interruptions.

Those of you who are regular readers of this blog know that I strive for integrity in my life, the sense that the parts of my life contribute to my whole self, in a way that makes sense. This contributes to a sense of balance. There is a teaching in mindfulness that the past, present, and future are all part of one’s being.

I continue to accept cancer as part of my past, my present, and my future. Even if I never have a recurrence, the knowledge of the possibility is still there.  Cancer is part of me but not all of me.

Watching the debate reminded me that the best way to handle an interruption is to keep going instead of just stopping and let the interruption take over.

Life interrupts, keep moving. You may need to make course corrections but you are still going forward.

Today is International Peace Day. I think a lot about peace and I try hard to cultivate it within myself as well as to be a peaceful participant in the world around me. The degree of success varies but it is rare that a day goes by without my being mindful of my intent.

I have not written as frequently as in the past, in part, because my mind is fragmented. My emotions are fragmented. The world is not making sense. There are many things going on but they are all getting wrapped up literally and metaphorically in our U.S. Presidential election. It is white male heterosexual privilege against everyone else. We have a major presidential candidate with no experience who is viable just because he is white, heterosexual, powerful, and more importantly, an explicit spewer of hate and selfishness. When he cheats, he is savvy. His exploitation of people and resources makes sense because he is the right sex, orientation, and color to dominate others.

Meanwhile, we have a very competent woman running for president with decades of experience who manages to get things done despite the fact that she’s been held to a level of scrutiny that arguably no other candidate has ever faced. Her crime? She’s made mistakes. Women are not allowed to make mistakes. They are allowed to be perfect mothers or to serve men.

Meanwhile, African American people, some children, are being murdered by police. No, this is not new. What is relatively new is that the incidents are now filmed and even when they can be viewed, many white people still come up with reasons why the person, often unarmed, sometimes with their hands-up, deserved to die.

Meanwhile, an African American football player decides to stop standing for the National Anthem at football games. There is strong backlash against this kind of “disrespect” to our country as well as to our military. This is a peaceful protest by a man who belongs to a race that has been owned, systematically oppressed, and clearly shown on video, hunted. It is 2016. This is still happening. We have a major presidential candidate who is whipping up hatred for every “otherized” person. People, what are YOUR PRIORITIES? Respecting the flag or not killing people?

Meanwhile, nearly half of the homeless youth in the U.S. are LGBT. LGBT youth, more generally, are subject to a high incidence of sexual and physical assault, drug/alcohol use, and suicidality. This is all because we believe that not being straight or cisgender somehow threatens our safety.

Meanwhile, immigrants, potential immigrants, or anyone who resembles an immigrant from a non-European country, are being treated like terrorists, despite research evidence pointing to the opposite. Immigrants, by and large, are hard-working people. Their children, on average, engage in significantly less crime and drug use than U.S. born white youth.

Meanwhile, I was at home yesterday when my husband received a text from a friend, who referred to him as “a girl” as a joke. My tolerance for this kind of sexism is low. I told him that it was a misogynist joke. He disagreed and his feelings were hurt. Both men are good and decent men but I was taken aback that my husband defended the joke and acted like I was overreacting. My reaction may have been stronger than usual but that is only because it is exhausting and unhealthy to be in a constant stage of outrage over the insidious and outright violent oppression in our country and world.

I know that I can best advocate for peace, when I have more myself. That does not mean not being angry, afraid, or in grief for some very hateful forces in our world. But it does mean balancing them with the good that exists around me.

In about an hour I am going to the Frye Museum in Seattle where there is a sitting meditation every Wednesday. That will help as will meeting my friend, Nancy, there.

I wish you all peace in your hearts.


Today is my daughter, Zoey’s 18th birthday. She is a legal adult and she’s done a lot of growing over the years, especially during the very first ones and the most recent ones. My cousin, Portia, once described Zoey as a “singular sensation”. That is an apt description. Zoey is a brilliant, unique, and fiercely talented young woman.

It is difficult to see a child choose a path different from the one followed by my husband and me. We were also creative, smart, and passionate. But we were also careful and diligent in pursuing education and sensible careers. It worked out extremely well for us.

The difficulty for me is not one of wanting my daughter to be just like me or for me to live vicariously through her experience. For me it is difficult because she has taken a path that is unknown to me and what I know of it is that it can be fairly inconsistent.

Instead of worrying about her future, I am going to reflect on what I know about her today.

She is physically healthy.

She is mentally strong.

She has wonderful friends and family.

She is an amazing singer.

She has an amazing mind.

She is an independent thinker.

She has goals and a plan to obtain them.

She is kind and fair.

She is passionate about justice.

She is creative.

She is growing in common sense.

She is incredibly funny.

She loves her family.

She loves her friends.

She opens birthday presents in the hot tub.


Happy Birthday, Zoey!

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On May 25, 2012 I walked into the Swedish Cancer Institute for the very first time.  I had learned of my breast cancer diagnosis the day before and I was there along with my husband and my friend, Nancy, for a consultation with the physician who would perform my first three breast surgeries, two lumpectomies followed by a right-side mastectomy.

I remember a few things from that morning. One of the strongest memories I have is a feeling of surprise when the physician’s assistance asked me to step on the scale for my weight. To me the word, “consultation” meant “talking” and that’s what I had expected. To relieve the tension, I joked, “I have to get weighed? That’s worse than having cancer!”

Granted, I was joking but as you know jokes come from some where. Who among us have not felt defined by a number, our age, our weight, our grades, or our annual income? Most of us have at one point or another, defined ourselves this way.  And the definitions can come with a great deal of negative judgment.

As a researcher and clinician, I also know that numbers can serve as useful data. There are two properties of measures that are important in yielding meaningful data. One property is the validity of the measurement tool. A valid measure actually measures what it is intended to. When I stand in front of the ruler on the wall of the doctor’s office, the ruler actually measures my height. However, not all measures are valid at all. For example, when I walk out the door in the winter time it sometimes “smells like snow”, meaning that I am detecting something in the air that to me is the odor of snow.  This predictive measure, as it turns out is not very accurate. It is not a valid measure of snow potential. I don’t even know what I am perceiving that makes it “smell like snow”.

The scale can be a useful measure. But is it a valid measure of value as a person? No, a scale, a good one anyway, is a valid measure of weight. It is not a valid measure of general health because general health is not defined by just body weight. It can be a factor in health but it is not all-encompassing.

Just like people say, “age is just a number” it can be tempting to deal with the judgment that comes with weight and just conclude that “weight is just a number”. This implies that it has no meaning or usefulness.

My weight has been creeping up steadily over the past year. I am almost to the weight that I was before I lost my last 40 pounds, nearly 4 years ago. Based on the way my clothes fit, I can tell that I am not as large as I was at that time, I assume because I am more muscular than I was then. But I am noticing that I am able to wear less and less of my wardrobe. I’ve gotten noticeably larger.

I did a great deal of work on my body image when I was going through cancer treatment. I learned to appreciate what my body does for me. I have a positive body image. I feel strong. But I also know that having had estrogen and progesterone responsive breast cancer that it is important that I maintain a healthy amount of body fat. Right now, it is clear that I have too much.

I’ve known this for awhile. Behavior change, developing new habits, and re-developing old good habits is really difficult. Every once in awhile I get to a point at which it seems harder to continue doing what I am doing than motivating myself to change. Last week, I asked my husband to start going to Weight Watchers meetings with me. I had been doing their online program  on and off for the last 10 years. Since I have not been following the program for awhile, I thought going back to meetings might be helpful. My husband has been having a lot of back problems and I thought that his losing weight might be a positive for him, as well.

He agreed. We went to our first meeting the next day, which was last Sunday. Three days down, many to go.

Measures can help guide me to follow my intentions and commitments in life. They don’t define my worth.


The U.S. has some of the best cancer care in the world and I live in one of the areas known for excellent treatment. However, accessibility to healthcare is not consistent. I was treated and continue to receive follow-up care at the Swedish Cancer Institute, which is part of Swedish Medical Center.

I am really lucky. My physicians, from my internist, to my breast surgeon, to my medical oncologist, are all top notch. The staff at my cancer center are excellent. Although hospitals are no place to rest, the care I received at the hospital during the four surgeries I had there, was exemplary whether during the day or in the middle of the night. My healthcare providers communicated with one another. I had access to my healthcare record online but I was not responsible for managing the sharing of those records. Last, but not least, everyone I interacted with was friendly and polite, with little exception.

Being cared for by competent and professional people within a functional healthcare system was one of the best experiences I’ve had in my life in terms of feelings cared for. I am a caretaker. I started babysitting when I was 10 years old, I am a mother and a wife. I am a healthcare provider.

I was active in my healthcare but I had a lot of trust in my physicians and followed all of their recommendations. It was always made clear to me that my physicians were making recommendations but that the ultimate decisions were mine to make. They were clear, however, about the potential pros and cons of each treatment option, which is part of a healthcare providers job as well as of their legal and ethical responsibility to patients.

Cancer treatment is exhausting. Although I.V. chemotherapy and radiation were not recommended for me, my treatment was still taxing. The main part of my treatment took over two years, which involved nine surgeries, two years of Lupron shots, ongoing Tamoxifen treatment, countless blood draws, scans, pathology reports, and anywhere from 3-5 doctors’ appointments per week. Although I took off time to recuperate from surgeries, I worked throughout that time and had family responsibilities, most notable helping rear a teen daughter who was having one Hell of a tough time with life.

Because I had excellent care, I was able to relax at times and let my caregivers take care of me. I could lie in the ocean and float like a jellyfish, trusting that the surf would take me where I needed to go. I don’t recommend the “jellyfish method” as a general way of getting through medical treatments.

Exhibit A. The surf took this jellyfish to land.  A jellyfish can survive out of the water for less than an hour. They can’t swim or move themselves. It takes well longer than an hour for the tide to come back in to where the jellyfish have been stranded.


My friend, Beth Gainer, MA, had a very different cancer treatment experience. Acting like a jellyfish even for brief periods could have threatened her physical well-being and most certainly damaged her psychological health. I’ve been reading Beth’s blog, Calling the Shots, for a number of years now. She has bravely waded through rough waters inhabited with unbelievably rude physicians and unhelpful administrative staff. Fortunately, she was able to secure some physicians who, as she says, she “loves”. For this, I am very grateful but I am angry and sad about her other experiences. Cancer is hard enough!

The path to good care was not easy or smooth for Beth. At times, advocating for care in a dysfunctional system was downright ugly. But she did it! Using her experiences as a guide, Beth has written, Calling the Shots in Your Medical Care. This short book contains practical tips for assessing the quality of your healthcare providers, suggestions for speaking up, and finally, strategies for being “a bad patient”, one who speaks up and forcefully, when necessary.

Just as there is no one way to navigate through cancer or any other serious illness, there is no one way to navigate through your healthcare. But if you find that you have lots to say and don’t feel empowered to say it, this is the book for you. Beth found her voice in her cancer treatment. You can, too.

I have long loved summer, it’s long long days, the clear blue skies, vacations, and mountain views.  2012 was the summer of surgeries, I had three of them, each spaced two weeks apart. I remember watching the Olympic games from my hospital room on the day after my mastectomy. I spent a lot of that sunny Seattle summer scared and indoors. Since that time, summers have been savored the best that I can. I spend a lot of time outdoors and in nature. I take photos of the beauty around me.

This summer, I’ve been doing a lot of canning. I’ve been preserving the bounty of stone fruits in jams and salsa not to mention our wonderful berries and rhubarb. It reminds me of canning peaches and tomatoes with my mom, when I was a girl. There was so much in the garden, so much in the orchards. It was full and sweet and delicious. Canning is not the same as fresh but in the dark days of winter, it provides a bright taste of summer and the hopes of days of longer sunlight up ahead.

Women, traditionally, are the savers of these normal but parts of life. The save food, remember birthdays, keep photo albums of family vacations, and write milestones, the first steps and first words in baby books. Women preserve history of these day to day memories, the events that are not rare, but to be celebrated and appreciated. These are not events recorded in history books.
The summer of 2016 has brought a new event, one that will be preserved in history books. Yesterday, Hillary Rodham Clinton, was the first woman nominated for the presidency of the United States by a major political party. This is more than a big deal. It is something I did not expect to happen in my lifetime.

Like many major societal changes, the good news has been somewhat offset by negative, qualifying, or discounting remarks. I have seen so many women obviously moved by this historical event include a qualification or apology. “Well, I don’t agree with everything Hillary’s done or said,” or “Hey, I still like Bernie Sanders even if I like Hillary.” I have also seen women admonished for their enthusiasm on social media with cautions of, “Well you know that you shouldn’t just vote for her because she’s a woman. You need to vote for the best candidate.”

As if the women of America would be sent into hysteria and forget how to vote responsibly, something we have been doing as a group, since given the right to vote in the U.S. in 1920. And then there are the other objections, the blemishes, the “good but’s”, and just plain old unadulterated misogyny.

But for now, I am working to preserve, the best and sweetest bits of the summer of 2016, and I am savoring them indeed.


I am struggling with our world, especially my own country. The Republic National Convention just finished yesterday. Last night, reality television star and real estate mogul, who spews obvious lies and naked hatefulness, accepted the nomination for President of the United States. Every day since his campaign was announced, it has been like waking up in a world with rules and structures that I can’t understand. And then there are the terrorist acts abroad as well as the acts inflicted on our own citizens due to institutionalized racism.

These are not the only problems in the world or in my personal world but they weigh very heavily on me. This morning, I woke up after a series of nightmares. I could feel my heart beat racing. It was tangible. I could not only feel it from within, but it was vibrating my fingers, held over my chest.

I did not want to get out of bed today. I felt unmotivated, scared, and sad. I am not depressed or suffering from an anxiety disorder but I have the sense of light fog and quivery-ness that are cues for me to engage in self-care. So I got up, got dressed, and walked outside.

It had rained all night. The air was heavy but cool. It was cloudy, but I could see lightness behind the clouds, the kind of lightness that suggests a sunny afternoon to come. I remembered to bring my camera. The light was not that great, but I took my photos, anyway. It is hard not to appreciate summer flowers, close up. The dahlias are in bloom. The sunflowers are at their peak.

I often let my mind wander and try to stay in connection with my senses when I walk. I find that instead of feeling, thinking, or sensing less, I feel, think, and sense more. I have a wide variety of experience on my walks and this is very grounding to me even though some of the thoughts and feelings I experience are troubled. Mindfulness is not about blocking out. I continue to learn that it is about being open and to experience life in a way that is real but does not produce suffering.

As I was walking along the sidewalk in my neighborhood, there was a tree branch within reach. It was one of our wonderful evergreen trees, the branch of a hemlock. They have downward pointing boughs that are soft and flexible. I reached my hand up and softly grabbed it. It was still wet from the rain. In touching it, the newness, life, and health were tangible. It filled me with calm.

With just a moment of full engagement, I felt reconnected with what is beautiful.

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When I was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2012, it was totally out of the blue. I had no symptoms and felt no lump. I was just having a routine exam. The results of the exam and the subsequent assessments were less than routine. Suddenly, I found my life spinning, pointing in countless other directions.

Unplanned and ambiguous change is hard on the human brain, so hard that sometimes it causes trauma. Sometimes the current situation is clear, “this is bad” but the future is a series of questions, “how bad will it get?”, “will this end?”, and “how will this end?”.

Actually, the future is not clear. Many things can happen. There are times when the perpetual questions of the next moment, the next week, the next, month, and the next year, are a huge burden, the burden of no immediate answers.

While I have been managing the swerves of active cancer treatment and while I still manage my recovery and potential for recurrence, I have been parenting, alongside my husband, our adolescent daughter. Zoey was just 13 when I was diagnosed, a few months before she entered high school. Her life was already a struggle. Zoey was very unhappy and her life was full of suffering.

All of the things that needed to be done, were being done, to support her health. She was working hard, as well. Nonetheless, the subsequent four years have been full of trials and some tribulations. There have been times during which all three of us have felt we had nothing left to give, nothing left to try, and no hope. Fortunately, this typically did not happen to all of us at once. But sadly, there were many times when I was digging up as much energy and hope as I could because I was the only one of the three of us who was capable of doing so. It was better than not having those reserves, but it was isolating and exhausting.

John and I have been working to protect Zoey for many years. In fact, this is the first time I’ve mentioned her name in at least two years, due to a malicious comment about her by someone who somehow found my blog. Zoey is a brilliant person with prodigious talents. She has a very big heart, a very strong will, and often does not think before acting. This combination can be painful for her as well as those around her. There are also things about her that put her at risk for discrimination beyond the fact that she is an outspoken young woman. She yearned for validation and often received the opposite.

This last school year was Zoey’s senior year. My husband and I made a concerted effort to focus on her happiness and almost totally backed off from her academics. We accepted that she may not graduate high school. In other realms, we held her feet to the fire. We held her accountable for following family rules, for example. This was a shift rather than an abdication of parental responsibility.

The last year has been the year of letting go. There have been failures, upsets, and unexpected events. But there has also been a palpable undercurrent of emotional growth and increased stability. This made is much easier to keep letting go.

Zoey was finishing high school through a program at our local college, which allows students who test into the program to simultaneously earn high school and college credit. Since each quarter-long class was equivalent to an entire year of a high school class, she only had to take three classes per quarter. This was much easier for her to manage from an organizational perspective though the courses were intense and fast. Another downside was that there was no information available about her academic progress until after the end of the quarter and grades were posted.

In June, relatively started asking if we were having a graduation party for Zoey. John and I had taken a “wait and see” approach. It still was not clear that she was graduating. About a week after finals, John and I took a look at her grades for the quarter. She had not only graduated but earned the best grades she had ever had in many years! Honestly, these were respectable marks for any college student, let-alone a 17-year-old.

Something had happened in a very short time. Our kid, who had just weeks before blurted out that she only tried to get 70% in her classes (a C-minus and by the way, the minimum needed to graduate high school), had suddenly changed direction. She didn’t even have to take the physics class. In fact, we didn’t understand why she was taking it. Zoey was taking it because she was thinking ahead to the following year, when she plans to finish her associates’ degree to make her more competitive for entry into a four-year college.

Meanwhile, without any prompting from us, she was out pounding the pavement looking for a job. And she found one at a new restaurant in our neighborhood. The owner is also very active in the LGBT/Q community, of which she is a part, and I am hoping this will be a more supportive workplace than she has experienced in the past.

I have mentioned that Zoey is quite a good jazz singer. Before June had even come to a close, we attended a performance of hers at a downtown jazz club, organized by her vocal teacher, who is a very well-known jazz singer in this region of the country. There were nine students who performed with a professional big band, each singing three songs. Zoey was first and her teacher gave her a very sweet introduction, calling her “a treasure”.

Zoey has long been an excellent singer and performer but she knocked it out of the park! She had grown a lot. Zoey had star quality. We were just thrilled for her.

I haven’t written in a while because life has been a bit of a blur with all of this change. But I will say that I have taken opportunities for NOW, to keep my head pointed in the present direction instead of trying to adjust to where I think my life will land.

I still don’t know what the future holds. I can’t read the tea leaves. I have no crystal ball. But what I do have is now, which at this moment is a thing of great beauty, purpose, and meaning.

Zoey opted not to attend her high school commencement ceremonies. She had moved on to taking college courses two years ago. She did agree to let me take photos of her in my Ph.D. robes, which I wore when I was five months pregnant with her.

Zoey opted not to attend her high school commencement ceremonies. She had moved on to taking college courses two years ago. She did agree to let me take photos of her in my Ph.D. robes, which I wore when I was five months pregnant with her.

Last night I attended my daughter’s choir concert. One of the songs they performed was 2014’s, Shut up and dance (with me). It’s a catchy song with multiple messages, both literal and figurative. I’ve been thinking about it since last night. It was part of my meditation during my walk today.

The message I have been meditating upon is, “Get out of your head and engage with me. Engage with my humanity.” Yeah, I know. That’s kind of a stretch. But hey, this is what mindfulness does for me when I examine my thoughts and thread them together with my experiences.  It has meaning and usefulness for me.

There has been a great deal of human engagement weighing heavily on my mind.  It is the engagement that results in stalemate, hatefulness, paralysis, and polarization. It is human engagement without the recognition of humanity. There is violence in my country that is specifically targeted toward underrepresented populations fueled by institutional racism, institutional sexism, xenophobia, and institutional homophobia. There is violence in my country due to suicide. There is violence in my country due to accidental shooting deaths by children who gain access to firearms.

It is also the presidential election season in the U.S.  People choose a candidate. Passions often run high. That is normal for a major election season. But this is not a normal election season. This is a season during which a reality t.v. star is a major presidential candidate and he is running on a platform so filled with hatred that even members of the party he is representing is having trouble coming together to support him. It is an incredibly stressful time for our country as well as the fact that the world is watching, helplessly, contemplating the possibility that an unqualified person who spews hate will be the head of one of the most powerful countries in the world.

I could tune all of this out. I could avoid reading any news. If I did, I would not be living a true life. I would be living in denial. I could also get myself very involved in all of this. Read the news constantly. Ruminate. Argue with people. The latter is what I have been doing and it is also not a true life, because the ball of anxiety, sadness, and anger I feel is making it harder to appreciate and engage in the positive aspects of my world. When I am out of balance either, too much or too little, I am prone to black and white thinking. That is not the world in which I actually live.

I try really hard to engage respectfully with people with whom I disagree about these subjects. It is difficult. I have only two or three friends on social media who engage in discussion and do so in a respectful fashion. I don’t get a lot disrespectful or judgmental comments. When people engage in that type of behavior, I either say something or ignore it, depending on what I judge to be the more effective response at the time. I do, however, find myself in discussions, which although civil, just don’t go anywhere. We just each repeat our position in slightly different words, even after it is clear that each of us has had the opportunity to consider the other viewpoint. When I am most mindful, I recognize this and say something along the lines of, “I’ve had an opportunity to consider your viewpoint. I still don’t agree. Peace.”

Today, I witnessed a rather remarkable exchange between a Facebook friend of mine and someone with whom she had grown up with but not seen for 45 years. One of the things I admire greatly about this friend is that she expresses her viewpoints in a respectful, compassionate, and well informed way. When she disagrees, she is kind but clear. She responded to what many of us would call an Islamiphobic statement with a gentle persistence. The person with whom she was interacting did not sound like he was going to change his position. However, by the end of 2-3 conversational turns, he wrote that she had given him things to think about and that he needed to obtain more information about the subject. They engaged in a way that identified the humanity in each other. It was one of the more heartening experiences I’ve had.

Last night, I was at a Pride Month concert. It was a performance of the LBTGQ/Allies youth choir in which my daughter sings. I used the restroom before the concert. There was a woman at the sinks who looked like she might be transgendered. I know that as a 50 year-old woman, this was likely not the first time I’d shared a bathroom with a transgender woman. However, it is the first time since an outspoken and passionate segment of my country decided that this was a major threat to restroom safety. I was struck by how little it struck me and how normal it felt. I liked her hair and I made a mindful decision to give her a compliment, which was met with appreciation. I wanted her to know that I engaged with her humanity and that I supported her right to be there. Engaging with someone from a standpoint of connection rather than difference can mean so much. Sometimes the mundane can be a peaceful and comforting experience.

Honestly, I need to unplug from political discussion for a bit. But that does not mean that I have to unplug for humanity. I can still engage and I can engage purposefully with people with whom my fearful or judgmental mind categorizes as “other”.  Maybe I can engage in a brief conversation with people who whom I have a knee-jerk reaction to judge even though I think it’s wrong, for example, people in a cranky mood, parents who bring small children to romantic restaurants,  parents who deck their kids out in military style garb, and men who wear t-shirts or hats with “Official Babe Inspector” written on them.  Maybe I can engage with folks with whom I know I have strong political and religious differences about other topics.

It is a platitude, but it is true that people put up walls. It is so true that we have a presidential candidate who is talking about it LITERALLY. The world can get so easily overwhelming. I find myself in fear and great worry myself. I understand why people want to shut it out. I understand why people want to arm themselves against danger. I also understand why people want to yell, hurt, and destroy. I understand why people want to give up. I understand these things because they are part of my own individual human experience.

Fear, anger, shame, selfishness, and sadness are shared parts of our human experience. But so are joy, curiosity, hope, compassion, and charity. Together, we are more than the sum of our parts.



I have been focusing on intention in my last few months of mindfulness practice. There are certain practices that I would like to do more of, for example, mindful eating. I have made goals to increase my use of my Weight Watchers tracking since this is a good way for me to make mindful decisions about what I eat throughout the day and checking in with my body more regularly about when I am hungry. (I have a habit of undereating during the day and then snacking a lot after dinner as if the floodgates have been opened.)

Setting an intention has a different emphasis than does goal setting. In the latter, the emphasis is on outcome rather than experience. With intention, the emphasis is on the process, the experience. Honestly, I am often not able to keep this two constructs separate. But that’s where I am right now. I have set the intention to be more mindful of the difference in the course of my daily life.

May and June are typically very busy months for my work. I scheduled even more heavily than usual this year, for financial reasons. I am making some changes in my business model in the upcoming months, which I expect to have a short-term negative impact on my income. Added to that stress is my worry about the U.S. Presidential race. And oh yeah, I have a husband and daughter, who is working to graduate from high school in the next couple of weeks.

When I am feeling a lot of stress, I find myself making lots of goals and not following them. Recently, I have been using the word, “intention” in my mind. I have been walking regularly for almost four years now. There are some periods of ebb and flow in the distance and frequency of my walks. In the past few weeks, I’ve found myself less motivated and having a harder time getting myself to do long distances. It seems that there are pressing issues that I “should” be addressing at work or at home.

Today I was out on my walk. I thought to myself, “I intend to walk four miles.” Then I thought, “Well, maybe just 3 miles. I have a report to write.” I walked for awhile and thought to myself, “If I follow my intent today, I will have an easier time keeping promises to myself.” I walked the four miles and there was no more internal struggle.

As a breast cancer survivor and a person who wants health and peace in my life, following my intentions and commitments to self-care is really important.



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After Twenty Years Cancer Research Blog

Exploring progress in cancer research, care and prevention

My Eyes Are Up Here

My experience with breast cancer

Woman in the Hat

Cancer to Wellness in 1,038,769 Easy Steps!


Today is Better Than Yesterday

Telling Knots

About 30% of people diagnosed with breast cancer at any stage will develop distal metastasis. I am one.

The Pink Underbelly

A day in the life of a sassy Texas girl dealing with breast cancer and its messy aftermath

The Asymmetry of Matter

Qui vivra verra.

Fab 4th and 5th Grade

Teaching readers, writers, and thinkers

Journeying Beyond Breast Cancer

making sense of the breast cancer experience together

Telling Knots

About 30% of people diagnosed with breast cancer at any stage will develop distal metastasis. I am one.

Entering a World of Pink

a male breast cancer blog

Luminous Blue

a mother's and daughter's journey with transformation, cancer, death and LOVE

Fierce is the New Pink

Run to the Bear!

The Sarcastic Boob

Determined to Manage Breast Cancer with the Same Level of Sarcasm with which I Manage Everything Else


Life after a tango with death & its best friend cancer