Archives for category: Mindfulness

Look me in the eye

May 6, 2014 //

I sometimes work with parents who reluctant to give their children any kind of correction or to communicate to their children they they have any kind of imperfection. Then there are other parents who criticize their children harshly. And still other parents vacillate between those two extremes.

Sometimes I tell parents that it is important not to be so reluctant to discuss their children’s less than perfect qualities. I explain, “You don’t want to give the unintended message that your child’s challenges are too horrible to speak of.”

The other unintended message is that perfection is attainable and expected. My massage therapist expresses the belief that everyone is perfect. I know what she means but to me, it seems like a cheat. If I were to think about myself that way, it would seem like a way to avoid looking at myself fully, a way to avoid acknowledging and examining the parts of myself that underscore my membership in humanity.

I know that I write about painful topics with a good deal of candor. And I also know that I expose my faults. Sometimes I think people worry that I am too self-critical. I find that for myself, if I avoid thinking about my faults, I give myself the message that they are too bad to be observed or examined. This kind of thinking can provide a foundation for very difficult feeling states like shame and humiliation as well as the very damaging thoughts and beliefs that accompany them. I believe it can also lead to living a fragmented or compartmentalized life, the kind of life that makes it hard to see oneself as an integrated whole. To me, it is important that the way I live my life makes sense. I can’t do it unless my imperfect pieces fit together in some kind of reasonable way.

In my life, I have felt guilt, shame, great anxiety, and humiliation. It is difficult, but I try to see myself for all of who I am, the good, the bad, and the in between. In writing about myself for the past two years, I have discovered something. I have discovered more freedom from my own harsh judgment. When I confront both my positive and negative qualities, I feel better able to decide how I want to live my life and to make changes, if needed. By describing and admitting my shortcomings, I find it easy to accept myself and further to grow as a person. In turn, I find it easier to accept others.

I have yet to find anything about myself that was too horrible. I am still working on it, but almost always, I can look myself in the eye.

Tags mindfulness, self-acceptance, self-awareness

Categories Mindfulness

Put a cork in it

May 5, 2014 //

As I mentioned last week, I am dealing with anger. I am pretty sure that it is about my stupid cancer. Getting sick for my New Orleans trip was really disappointing. I had seen it as an opportunity for a romantic “second honeymoon”. Adding to the frustration, the trip almost didn’t happen and was also quite expensive.

We still had fun but I’ve got to tell you, sitting on the plane on the way over was pretty uncomfortable. I was coughing a lot, I mean A LOT. I believe that I was the least popular person on the flight. The man sitting next to me had his body turned as far away from me as he could. A kind woman behind me handed me a cough drop. I already had one in my mouth not to mention the fact that I was fully loaded up with cough and cold medicine. And then I started having abdominal muscle spasms, which made me cough even more. That was a new one for me. I wonder if it has something to do with the abdominal muscle that was re-purposed for my TRAM reconstruction. I think that by the end of the flight, the man next to me was wishing that he’d sat next to a screaming toddler instead of next to me while I spewed my plague all over the coach section of the plane.

We arrived to New Orleans at about 3pm on Saturday. I took a short walk to the French Quarter with John. We walked down Bourbon Street until I finally said, “Yuck, I’ve gotten enough of an anthropological experience.”We walked over one block and had a delightful change of scenery to art galleries and such instead of Hustler clubs with horrible names like, “Barely Legal” with young and not so young scantily clad women standing in the doorways.

Sunday was our only full day without any band performances to attend. In the morning, I felt like I’d been run over so after John brought me some breakfast, I went back to sleep and didn’t get up until 4pm. I know I felt a lot better, showered, and got dressed for dinner. I have no recollection of where we went or what we ate though I know we walked there from the hotel, at my insistence and John’s objection. (I was still going to get in my 3 miles of walking in each day.)

On Monday, we went to a band performance, which went well. Then we took the street car to the Garden District to soak up the ambiance and to tour one of the cemeteries. We did a lot of walking that day. There were definitely some positives but I must admit that I was in a foul mood and complained a lot. Then John complained about my complaining and I said lamely, “But I’m sick! On our vacation. Waaaaaaaaaah!” (Okay, I didn’t really say, “waaaaaaaah!”) His suggestion was, “So you’re sick. Can’t you just make the best of it?” “But I am!!!!!!! I am out of bed!!!!! Also, your wife is sick and cranky. YOU make the best of that.”

So at this point of reading this post, you may feel sorry for my husband. And if you do not, you probably should because although I snapped out of my disappointed child routine for the couple of days following, once we’d gotten to the day after the fashion show, I was exhausted and mad again.

I was annoyed about every little thing. I have not been in a nasty mood like this in quite some time. And I don’t remember the last time it lasted an extended period of time like this. And John got the brunt of my perpetual dissatisfaction. I actually felt a lot better after I wrote my post complaining about how John often doesn’t answer me when I talk to him. Writing has a way of doing that for me. But by last night I was exhausted and fuming again. “Why is this house such a mess? Why do I have to live like this? This isn’t the way I want to live!”

Truth be told, although my husband is not the best at housework, he is a really hard worker. He is really bogged down with work and helping our daughter keep on top of her schoolwork. She missed nearly an entire week of school for that band trip and she takes a very difficult schedule. John spent many hours with her over the weekend sorting through what she missed, what she has to turn in, and what assignments needed to be done over the weekend. She is not easy to help, either, and is prone to getting frustrated and losing her reasoning skills. “What do you mean I have to answer in paragraphs? What does that mean? This is so stupid!”

He was so patient with her all weekend and here she and I were providing grumpiness in stereo. By the end of the night, I was feeling pretty remorseful. Today, my first thought was, “Put a cork in it, Elizabeth.” I know that my anger is very understandable and that I need to process it. Managing anger is tricky, though. There are ways of dealing with it that make it worse, for example, constantly complaining to one’s husband.

Maybe writing this post will help. Maybe I need to keep reminding myself that my anger, just like sadness and fear, do not last forever.

Even though all feelings are right. Anger FEELS wrong and I find myself looking ways in which I feel that I have been wronged in order to justify its expression. And then once I realize this is what I am doing, I feel wrong again.

Tags anger, Breast Cancer, displaced anger, grief, Marriage

Categories Breast cancer, Marriage, Mindfulness

The Silence

May 3, 2014 //

When I talk to my husband, he often doesn’t answer. This is not new to our relationship. It has been true for decades but waxes and wanes depending on his stress level.

Sometimes, he is just spacey and lost in thought. Other times, he is feeling anxious. He is very sensitive to rejection at these times. I may actually be annoyed or mad at him. I may not be mad, at all and just trying to get the business part of our lives done and coordinate household responsibilities. I am an organizer and a “big picture” person when it comes to administering a household. John is not. After many years, he asked me to start writing tasks on a “honey do” list, a little white board in our kitchen. I don’t really like doing this. I think he would be more likely to remember to do the task if he wrote it down himself. For some reason, that is something he just won’t do. He wants me to write it down. Sometimes this feels like a face saving move on his part. I wouldn’t mind writing it down if I didn’t know that a number of the things I’ve written down, stayed on that little board for years. So it filled up with tasks, most of which never got done. And every time I worked in the kitchen, I would see it and it was a visible sign of my frustration.

I hate the silence. The non-answers that could mean many different things. But even when my husband is merely lost in thought, the silence hurts. Relationship intimacy doesn’t just come with the package, it is something that must be continually nurtured and protected. It is important for marital happiness, for sexual health, and for emotional well being.

I nag, it is true. It is not a super power but I am also not an evil villain. I often feel caught between a rock and a hard place. John tells me that he is going to do a task and then he doesn’t do it. An excellent example might be doing the dishes. I’d say that between 1/3 of the times that John says he will do the dishes before he goes to bed at night, I wake up to a sink full of dishes. About half of the time, most of the dishes are done but some are either still on the dinner table or on one of the kitchen counters. And almost 100% of the time, either the table, counters, or the stove top are dirty.

If I say something, he probably won’t finish the job because he’s already gone to work. If I need to use the sink, then I need to clean it out. Later, when we are discussing dishes, because they are never to be taken for granted because they are not yet a habit, I might clarify that what I am asking is for him to do ALL of the dishes and if the kitchen stove top needs to be wiped, I expect him to wipe it. By this time, I am at my best, using a businesslike voice and at my worst I am doing nothing to conceal my annoyance.

The follow up discussions almost never go well. John feels criticized. And you know what? I am criticizing. I am complaining about the job he did. I understand why he doesn’t like it but he often communicates to me an expectation that a loving wife doesn’t ever criticize or complain. Although I don’t think he 100% believes this, it is an ideal he has and I even think he believes it to be attainable. These are the the times when my husband’s dreamy romanticism conflict with my pragmatic realism.

Relationships are full of noise. Some of it is like beautiful and romantic music. Some of it is not. Some of it is disagreement, some is problem-solving, some is negotiation. Relationships are also full of silence. But this kind of silence, the not answering with clear words but instead answering with confusing actions or lack of actions, is not helpful. These are the times when I feel that I am to match his silence with my own. And sometimes that is what I do because I have already tried to make my point and failed time and time again.

These are the time I feel silenced, that my job is to pick up after the many unfinished tasks in my household and not say a word. Just do other people’s work and carry through on other people’s promises. There are times in my life I am resigned to this. There are times in my life when I know that my husband has many other wonderful qualities that compensate for these shortcomings.

At other times, I feel alone. I feel like there is work that I have to do and for which I will never be appreciated. If I say something, I get a negative response. If I am silent, I get no response. To have to have no routine between the two of us to take care of these things is a perpetual stress to me. Routines can make life a lot easier and require a lot less higher order thinking. I would like to preserve my mental energy for things other than working and reworking the daily household routine as well as keeping track of so much of the family’s schedule. People who do not have organizational skills like this, the skills for carrying out and managing the most boring and perpetual household tasks just don’t get it. They don’t get the value they don’t get toll that it takes on the very most developed part of the human brain. My husband and I do not have a traditional marriage but my brain works like a housewife’s and his does not.

When it comes to managing my cancer, I am even more alone. And that’s one of the main reasons that I blog. I don’t need my husband to attend my appointments any more. He has no idea what my schedule is like and how it impacts the rest of my life. He can read about it here but he can’t experience it. And when I talk about the anger I feel, the fears I have, or my annoyance with the inconvenience of it, I know he gets afraid. He wants to do something. And there’s nothing for him to do but there’s a great deal he could say.

I empathize with him, really I do. I empathize with him when I don’t know what to say to one of my friends with mets, when they speak of incredible pain or fear or anger. Every once in awhile, I think I rise to the challenge and say the “right” thing. Other times, I just do my best to communicate the fact that I care. It never seems like enough but I also know that I can’t solve the problem of cancer. I can just do my best to be present. Sometimes, and I’m ashamed to admit it, I feel negative toward my friends’ cries of pain. I have thoughts like, “She must have waited too long to take her pain meds.” It doesn’t happen frequently but at those times, I understand why so many of us have lost the support of friends and family. Our brain tricks us into blaming someone with a painful and life ending disease to protect ourselves from our own helplessness and guilt. At these time, I am forced to stare at hard truths about the vulnerability of life and that fact that people I love are in excruciating pain and experience incredible isolation.

I am a loving human being. I am also flawed. I do, however, commit to keeping present with my family, my friends in face to face and cyber worlds. In our relationships, I will make noise.

Tags communication, conflict resolution, death and dying, division of labor, Marriage, mindfulness

Categories Breast cancer, Feelings, Marriage, Mindfulness

Drag Queen Puzzle Pieces

April 11, 2014 //

I dreamed last night that I packing up to leave my office at the University of Washington because I’d run out of grant money. That actually happened in 2007. I thought I was all packed and then found a bunch of cabinets full of things yet to be packed. I realized I had a plane to catch to go home to Seattle. I walked around the university campus and it was actually the campus of Indiana University. The University of Washington is in Seattle. Indiana University is in, you know, Indiana.

I walked around campus trying to get someone to help my move my remaining boxes before I was due to get to the airport. A couple of men offered to help me. I finally realized that I could not be in Seattle and Indiana at the same time. And how was I going to transport all of my office stuff back home and still make my plane. And then for some reason, the men and I walked into a building. The building exploded right as we walked up to the doorway, but some how we survived. Then I woke up.

In the dream, my assumptions about where I was, what I was doing, and how I was going to do whatever it was I was doing, exploded right in front of me. We live our lives according to assumptions. Those assumptions can be challenged in gentle but persistent ways. They can also be thrown on their head.

Until May 24, 2012, I assumed that I would not get cancer in my 40’s. I assumed as a woman from a long line of long lived women on my mother’s side that I would live a long life. I assumed that I would be alive long enough to raise my daughter and to retire in my 60’s or 70’s. (Note to hubby: Early 70’s, tops, and working part time.)

Then the assumption of health that supported all of my future life plans crumbled. I have worked to pick up the pieces, make new pieces, and reworked the foundational assumptions I have about my life. And all along, I have worked to be true to the person that I was before and not define myself only by fear and insecurity.

The early part of this process focused on physical reconstruction of pieces. Surgeons have subtracted and added in many iterations. When I was home following my mastectomy in August 2012, I was looking on Ebay for clothes. I had lost a considerable amount of weight and I do nearly all of my clothes shopping online. I came across this photo.

The mannequin pieces do not fit together and the arms are placed on the wrong sides of the body. It makes the whole figure off. The large hands in particular reminded me of how drag performers can look. They have many feminine physical characteristics through make-up, body padding, binding, falsies, and good acting skills. But there are almost always clues. Things that don’t look quite right. Some drag performers take advantage of this to comedic effect. Grady West, who developed the character, Dina Martina, is a 50 something year old man with a pot belly and hairy back. He wears over the top feminine glitzy costumes that are several sizes too small and his dresses don’t zip up all of the way. Dina’s make-up makes Tammy Faye Baker look like a model for Pond’s cleansing cream. He uses the mismatched puzzle pieces to great advantage and his shows are hilarious.

Other drag performers aspire for “realness”, to be able to pass as a real woman. I was introduced to this concept when I saw the excellent documentary, Paris is Burning, which was filmed during the mid- to late-80’s in New York City. It was about the “Drag Ball Culture” in the city. (Remember “voguing”? It started there, not with Madonna.) I was fascinated by the communities that were built by the men in this culture. Most of them had been rejected by their families and by society, as a whole. But they made their own families with “drag mothers” and familial living situations. I thought the way that the men found a way to pick up the pieces and make news pieces to construct their own families was inspiring.

I know that there was a short time after my mastectomy when I was worried about “passing” for a real woman. But mostly, I have been trying to reconstruct the pieces of my mental life and to dance to the changing rhythm of my daily life.

Life has pieces that change. Life has pieces that need to be replaced. Life has pieces that are lost and cannot be replaced. But my life is whole and I belong here.

Tags breast cancer and body image, breast cancer and trauma, breast reconstruction, femininity, identity, mindfulness, trauma

Categories Breast cancer, Feelings, Mindfulness

Starting to spin

April 9, 2014 //

I am good at seeing patterns in my behavior, better than I was in the past when my cancer experience was new. I think I am leaning into an anxiety and grief spiral. I have been very stressed about situations that are mostly out of my control. My pattern is (1) define a current or anticipated problem, (2) develop a plan, (3) put the plan in place, (4) fall into a pit of varying depth and circumference, and (5) cope like crazy until I regain my footing.

Right now I feel myself transitioning from step 3 to step 4. But meanwhile, I am dealing with another problem. Time I spent taking care of the highest priority problem meant that I got behind in my work. Now I am shuffling around to put a plan in place for that.

Additionally, I agreed to participate in a breast cancer charity function. The proceeds go to patient assistance fund at Swedish Cancer Institute, which provides very practical assistance like emergency rent money, meals, and transportation to and from medical appointments to breast cancer patients. This is a very worthwhile cause that makes a real difference in patients’ lives, not to mention the fact that I am very grateful for the treatment I have received at the institute. Last year, this event raised $120,000.

I do have mixed feelings about the event itself, which is a fashion show. You know how I love wearing pretty clothes but also have major misgivings about the fashion industry. I also suspect that I’m going to have to wear at least a little something pink at some time but based on last year’s video, I see that pink is present but not omnipresent. The models are all normal looking people. The women are all breast cancer patients. The men are friends and family. Everyone looked like they were having silly fun. And the fun was balanced out by speakers talking about the real negative impact of cancer on patients and their families.

The rational part of me thinks, “Why throw out the pink baby with the bathwater?” The good outweighs the bad of participation. I have wanted to get involved in a small cancer related charity and this is a chance for me to see if this is an organization with which I would like to continue to develop a relationship. There are lots of things they do and a variety of events that are put on over the year.

Did I say, I was starting to spin? I spun at least a full revolution on my walk in the woods this morning. I’ve started having abandonment fears. I have been stressed and relying on my friends to give ear to my distress. This morning I was worried about being a burden and losing my friends because the sum of the negative parts of my life are really scary. I know this is irrational but I also know that my behavior can still be motivated by irrational fear even when I am aware of it. This is when I start flailing and apologizing to my friends. I try to solicit their support in an overly sparing manner.

And the fashion show? I was worried about that, too. I was afraid that I would lose some of you out there because you would believe that I was “pimping myself out” or that I have been pink washed. Then I thought, “I just won’t say anything about it.” I wouldn’t be able to get the word out about the event so that the charity would make more money and more patients would get real, every day assistance. How silly and counterproductive. In my efforts to reduce the attention to the aspect of participation that I don’t like or am unsure about, I would contribute less to the part to which I feel clearly committed. And the biggest flaw in my “avoid it” plan was the fact that the only person I need to convince about whether this is right for me or not is myself.

When I was a little girl, I used to spin in circles until I got dizzy and fell to the kitchen floor. I would get up and do it over again and again. I remember how the pattern on our linoleum floor used to bind together into a blur. It was mesmerizing and fun.

I don’t spin for fun any more. But I still know how to get up after I’m done.

Tags Breast Cancer, mindfulness, pinkification of breast cancer, stress

Categories Breast cancer, Mindfulness

Recognition

March 31, 2014 //

I was in line at my bank last weekend, waiting to make a deposit. There was a customer talking to one of the tellers:

Teller (politely): I’m sorry ma’am, we now require picture ID to make cash deposits. May I see your driver’s license.

Customer (annoyed): I never had to do that before. I don’t want to do this every time. Can’t you just use visual recognition?

T: I’m sorry, ma’am but I don’t know you.

C: But you gave me two piggy banks last week!

T: I’m so sorry. I’m new and I have not learned everyone’s face yet.

C: How long have you worked here?

T: I started at this branch in December, ma’am.

C: By my recollection, you’ve worked here five months! Did you work here intermittently?

T: Yes, ma’am.

The customer left having taken 10 seconds to produce photo ID and far longer in first arguing with the teller and then using up time to prove her wrong that she was “new” to the branch.

As a cancer patient, I am asked to produce my insurance card all of the time, so frequently that I keep it in a very accessible pocket on the outside of my purse, right behind my driver’s license. I was tempted to show this lady my purse and say, “Look, instead of digging your ID out of the main compartment of your overnight bag-sized purse, you could have this handy dandy purse that makes it so easy to prove your identity!”

I said nothing. It would not have done any good. I suspect that having the inconvenience of digging her ID out of her bag every time she made a cash deposit was not the issue. She wanted to be recognized. She wanted to be seen, to be important, and to matter. We all want to be recognized from time to time.

Having cancer can be a challenge to one’s identity. It can impact us in different ways from person to person and change over time. Treatment can be so physically, emotionally, and spiritually altering that it can be hard to recognize oneself.

A lot of us dislike the pink ribbon culture because we don’t recognize ourselves in it. That is the biggest disconnect for me because the corporate presence has made it about making money, not about breast cancer.

Other associations are murkier. For example, many people do not like the war metaphor in fighting cancer. For others, it rings very true. I don’t have strong feelings about it as long as the metaphor is used as a coping strategy that makes sense to the person at the time and is not used as an explanation for why some people die from cancer and some don’t. Coping strategies should not be used to blame people for dying. Coping strategies are ways to make the best of a bad situation.

A lot of people do not see themselves represented in the breast cancer research, especially as reported by the media. A lot of people feel like research findings are blaming people for having gotten cancer. I have a hard time with that. I don’t feel blamed by research but then again, I was a researcher for many years. My particular case of breast cancer fits some research on risk factors. For example, I have a history of obesity and did not breast feed until after I was age 30. I understand the evidence against women under 50 getting mammograms and even agree with it. However, I was 46 and invasive cancer was uncovered by a routine mammogram. I did monthly self exams and annual clinical exams with my physician. Even after I knew I had cancer and the location of the tumor, I could not feel it. I know that there’s a concern about over treatment of breast cancer but as it turned out, I had four invasive tumors. Given that the growth of cancer is progressive, I would have preferred to learn about my cancer earlier rather than later.

I suspect that just as we do during different identity transformations in our lives, as breast cancer patients, we try on different concepts and struggle against outside definition from others until we feel weave a new spider web that makes sense, one in which we are connected with others but recognizable as the unique individuals we are.

Tags breast cancer and identity, cancer, identity

Categories Breast cancer, Mindfulness

Bruised

March 26, 2014 //

In some ways I am very sensitive, squeamish even. I hate scary movies so much that I just won’t see them. When I was young, it felt like I was the only one who refused to see these movies or to go on amusement park rides. I don’t like visual gore. I don’t like to watch violence.

Perhaps surprisingly, this squeamishness does not translate to physical health issues. I used to find watching surgeries on television fascinating as long as there weren’t “sound effects”. As I recall, I often turned the sound off. I used to work in a medical lab at a hospital where they did dissection. It was not my favorite thing to view, but I handled it okay and I liked the job.

I know that some people have a hard time handling their surgical drains, looking at their surgical incisions, or the aftereffects of a mastectomy. I am not one of those people. My natural curiosity about the human body as well as how surgeons work to help fight disease and sculpt the body distracted me from any revulsion I might otherwise feel.

A week ago I had a set of surgical procedures as part of my breast reconstruction. Part of it was the liposuction of small amounts of fat from my hips and thighs, which were injected into my natural breast to improve symmetry. It was something I had planned to do after my TRAM but had held off for a year because I needed a break from surgery.

As I’ve previously written, I was actually kind of looking forward to this surgery in an odd way, because it would take me off of the treadmill that was tiring me. The treadmill of responsibility to others and of expectation.

Who was I kidding? That surgery was no break. One of my friends told me recently that she was having a major surgery. Being the multiple surgery veteran that I am I said, “Surgery was not that bad until I’d done a lot of the healing and I realized how much it sucks. But by then, I felt a lot better.”

When I’ve had surgery, I’ve taken it day by day. I’ve discovered that I have a somewhat high pain tolerance.The worst pain I’ve ever had was as a teen and a young adult. It was menstrual pain and it could knock my onto the bathroom floor into the fetal position. That is probably the reason why when in labor, I asked for an epidural early and often. As it turned out, even childbirth did not replicate those years of pain that I had. I was wrong about my pain tolerance. The truth was that I had crazy painful and bad periods.

So here I am after my last surgeries, with a high pain tolerance and being low on the squeamish factor, at least when it comes to real life blood and gore. I was told that the liposuction would create bruising. There wasn’t much right afterwards but then they bloomed like creepy black lagoons on my body. They were tender but didn’t hurt as much as a bruise caused by an injury. But they were big, they grew for a couple of days, and they were just ugly and nasty.

Think I’m exaggerating? Here’s the biggest one, located on my inner right thigh. It has actually healed considerably in the last few days.

Looking at these bruises has been like being knocked upside my head. This one is like an emblem of cancer. It’s big and ugly and crept up on me. Looking at it, I know that I am done with reconstruction. So unless there is a complication that needs to be addressed or new disease, I am done.

The fact that not long ago I was in part, looking forward to these surgeries gives me great pause. I am typically very self aware and deliberate in my decisions as long as I am reasonably calm. Surgery sucks. It really does. At this point, it is not worth it to me to do more but because I had kind of forgotten this recently, I have begun asking friends to remind me of how bad surgery is in the event that I start toying with the idea of more reconstruction. I can already see that I would need at least another couple of surgeries to be fairly symmetrical. I look fine in clothes but my breasts are not only of different sizes but they are also of different shape. It is less so since the surgery last week but they still look mismatched. Today, I think that is just fine and I want to keep being satisfied with this and not do any more to my body.

I am not sorry I had these surgeries. I’m just a little shaken up because I’d forgotten what a disruption that they are to my energy, my concentration, and my ability to take care of myself, even if only feeling out of it for a few days. I have people in my life who I want to be present for. I have things I want to do and feel and say.

I have my post-surgery appointment tomorrow. I think I am healing well. I don’t expect any surprises. I am at peace with where I am going to be when these bruises heal.

I am bruised but not broken.

I am humble but not humiliated.

I am strong but not invincible.

Tags Breast Cancer, breast reconstruction, healing from surgery, life balance, mindfulness, when is breast reconstruction done

Categories Breast cancer, Mindfulness

May you live in interesting times

March 16, 2014 //

“May you live in interesting times” is said to be a Chinese curse. However, the origins of this saying are according to my Googling, debatable. But let’s go with the message, shall we, despite it’s possible impure origin.

I’m no shrinking violet but I am not a big risk taker or as we say in the biz, a “sensation seeker”. I like an interesting life but for the most part, I live within the box. I use vibrant colors but I draw within the lines.

By nature, I do not get bored easily. I mean I get bored sometimes, but typically I don’t get bored a lot. Until stupid cancer. The stress, the upside-down sleep habits, the weeks away from work for surgery recovery, and the drug side effects. I can’t believe the fatigue and I didn’t even have chemo.

I had horrible boredom for months. Painful boredom. The kind of boredom that my patients with ADHD grapple with. And if you were to know only one thing about ADHD, know that to a person with it, boredom is extremely painful. That’s where I found myself. BORED. OUT. OF. MY. GOURD.

Yes, having a health crisis bored me out of my gourd. Well, some parts were actually exciting and truthfully, I found them to be times of creativity as well.

But I’ll let you in on a secret. ADHD is not about not being able to pay attention. It’s about not being able to pay attention or to persist on tasks that aren’t interesting. The flip side to this is that interesting tasks can be extremely rewarding. And that’s how I found myself for many months. It was not that I couldn’t pay attention or persist at all, it was that I could not regulate my attention or persistence as I once could. That’s why I’ve written frequently about feeling as though I had functional ADHD during a good part of my cancer treatment.

I am happy to report that my sleep has improved, I continue to heal from the acute stress of cancer as well as the nonstop surgical train. I still need a lot more sleep than I used to need. But when I am alert, I am very alert, very energetic, and my concentration is excellent. I am happy to be able to be more productive in my work. I have taken on my work and my life is, by and large, a lot more interesting.

But there are costs to my workload. I am getting cranky with my family. I find it more challenging to find times to do my daily walks. I am currently walking 5-6 times a week instead of 7 times a week. Five times a week is still really good. Of greater concern, I find that it is harder for me to eat a good diet when I am stressed. I gained weight over the holidays and have not been able to get it off. I am still in the healthy range of weight for my height but just barely. I know this is the way that my weight can creep up on me. You may think this is overreaction on my part but I have lost and gained weight so many times in my life that I know I have to really really be mindful of my dietary and exercise habits.

I am very happy to not feel bored and numb during a good part of my day, as I once did. I am happy to live in interesting times. But interesting times, like boring times, bring their own set of challenges.

Categories Breast cancer, Feelings, Mindfulness

One hand in Heaven, one foot on the ground

March 12, 2014 //

This morning it was clear and cold. I considered walking to the beach for my daily exercise but saw that the mountains were clouded in. So after I got my coffee, I walked to Fauntleroy Park. My neighborhood is relatively quiet for an urban area but the street that runs along the park boundary gets a fair bit of traffic. There’s a burst of street noise as I cross it and follow the path into the woods. The first thing I notice is the myriad of greens in the trees, the ferns, the mosses, and the woodland plants. Then I start hearing song birds and crows. The street noises fade as I walk further into the interior until all I can hear is the sounds of the forest and of my own footsteps on the trail.

This morning there was mist rising from the ferns. I could see my breath. I looked at the mist as it rose upwards, felt my breathing slow, and noticed that I was smiling, as I often do when I am surrounded by nature. I felt immediately transported, like ice to steam, and that my spirit was rising above the nests in the trees and above the canopy. I stayed in that blissful state as I walked along. Then I looked down and noticed something.

I was off the trail. I had meandered with my eyes on the trees and the new plants growing and had not noticed that I’d lost the trail. I knew that if I walked down hill, I’d eventually find the trail. But it did make me reflect on the way that we live in multiple worlds and both worlds are necessary.

I think this is one of the reasons I don’t like a lot of pithy inspirational sayings. They seem dreamy and overly ethereal. There’s not enough reality to provide ballast. And I also think that it may be one of the reasons that a number of people with cancer do not like to be referred to using idealistic terms like “hero”, “inspirational” or “brave”. Those terms live up in the Heavens. Cancer is isolating and I know for myself, I want to be very much seen as a real human being. I want to be able to connect with other people.

Then there are the attitudes that are all ballast. Those are the stigmatizing attitudes, the view of cancer as a death sentence, the fears that keep our friends away from us because they fear our death as well as their own.

What matters to me more right now than if I am brave, inspirational, or a hero, is that I am still carrying the sounds, sights, and smells of the forest in my heart as I go about my daily chores and consider life’s obstacles and joys in the past, the present and the future.

The trilliums are starting to bloom! This is our native trillium ovatum

The fiddlehead ferns are unfurling. They are edible at this stage.

Tags Breast Cancer, idealizing cancer survivors, mindfulness

Categories Breast cancer, Feelings, Flora and Fauna, Mindfulness

Dead, but not lifeless

February 26, 2014 //

When I walk in the forest, I see many dead trees and other plants. Sometimes even dead animals. Although everything that grows in the forest dies, none of it is lifeless.

That’s my meditation for the day.