Blogging for a better life

Has anyone ever bumped a table that had a completed puzzle setting on it, only for the puzzle pieces to topple onto the floor scattering everywhere? That in a nutshell is post cancer/chemo life. It’s learning to accept the countless ways that cancer/chemo has changed your life forever and figuring out the balance to accept what’s temporary and continue working hard in putting your life back together.

It’s learning how to put your life back together in an unusual way. The fairy tale is that you get to get excited, because you get to re-create and re-design your life in a new kind of way. The reality is you’re completely lost without a playbook, leaving you overwhelmed and fearful. It’s messy and it’s grueling. That’s the reality. It’s just plain messy. But as a cancer survivor, what choice do you have? There are only two options. Either you choose to stay lost, or you choose to rise to the occasion and get downright filthy and say okay to the fact that you get to write your own playbook.

Now as a writer, how would that look if I chose to not write my own playbook, blueprint, manuscript; (or, whatever you want to call it). Two years and five months post-chemo, I still have my good days and bad days. Do I understand what changed for me to have a good day? No. But do I accept it and run with it? Hell yeah! Most of the time my brain is scattered into a million different directions. My brain feels like someone’s inside there squeezing the life out of it. Oftentimes, my brain is so fidgety that I can’t concentrate. I’m lucky if I can read a paragraph without the brain wandering. I still get completely exhausted just brewing a cup of coffee and making my favorite strawberry mug cake. I might wake up one morning thinking and feeling like my body’s going to do right and carry me well, only to learn of an epic failure when I try to carry the entirety of the world. Reality strikes and 10-minutes later, a nap or resting in my chair is warranted. The intelligent one in my life is always there, reminding me that this is only a setback.

The post-chemo chronic pain feels undeniably brutal some days. Even on the meds and trying other solutions just feels unbearable. Sometimes you just want to fall to the floor and not stop crying tears. And then the other days, you know you’ve fallen in love with whoever invented the heating blanket (even in 90-degree weather).

And this is where my brain completely stops. But always remember, “Strawberry cake always makes things a little bit easier!”