Published! "Mother's Love"

I've made it my goal to get my work published. I've been working hard compiling and organizing my writing, which includes poetry, prose, and creative non-fiction.

I am so pleased to announce that one of my pieces has been published through Lacuna Loft's blog. I know I've mentioned this organization before, and I will keep on linking and mentioning it as it has become a very important part of my life.

Anyway, I've been submitting my work for a few weeks now, across various platforms, and I am very proud to say that the first piece to be published is a personal essay called Mother's Love.

Please take a look and share with your friends and your family.

Hopefully soon I'll have more published works to share!

Inspired and motivated and random thoughts

Today I feel inspired and motivated. I've been reading and resting and hanging out with my niece who came to visit. But today, I woke up ready to write a real chapter of my book. No time to waste, need to get these words out of my head and onto the screen.

I have joined a few communities recently, including the writing group which I know I have mentioned. I've made some really amazing cancer friends (online, of course *thanks quarantine*). I've been learning from my co-conspirators in this terrible club we are all members of, and I've been able to take better care of my mental health this way. Before, I thought I was too fragile and too afraid to have cancer friends. But even with all the different stages and types of cancer, we are all sharing valuable experiences, even if they are often incredibly unpleasant.

Let's talk mental health. From the beginning, I knew I would need help. If you have a cold, you take Dayquil, right? There's no shame in taking some medicine to stop the flow of boogies and constant sneezing. You might even pop some extra vitamin C to hopefully prevent the flu or some sinus infection from taking you out. I know enough about myself to know that I am predisposed to depression and anxiety, so from the beginning, I knew I would need chemical help to make it through all of this. I'm not ashamed to say that I am on anti-depressants and anti-anxiety pills and even birth control pills to keep my brain chemistry and hormones evened out and relatively balanced.

So when this all started, I got into regular talk therapy and also tried music therapy. Neither of these was quite the right fit for me. That doesn't mean that therapy doesn't work, but for me, I needed something different.

The wild thing that I truly never expected was my cancer writing group to be more beneficial for my overall mental health and stability than so-called real therapy would be. I've always been a reader, and I've always written when my feelings overwhelmed me; somehow I never realized the connection between the emotion and the release/acceptance of how I was feeling.

Anyway, if you just wanted a regular cancer update: still have it, chemo sucks, blah. Good times.

Fave Quote of the Book: Small Victories by Anne Lamott (Part 2)

From Amazon:

So, where did we leave off? (LINK)

Was I saying that I came from an unhappy family?

What does it mean to have a happy family?

Who knew that I'd be exploring such difficult questions in a silly little blog that is supposed to be about non-cancer. Yet, here we are.

My family is special. I remember a childhood of laughter, silliness, bad jokes, talking lobsters, and spontaneous trips to unexpected locales.

I also remember a childhood with tears, fear, hurt and misunderstanding, and being misunderstood. As a shy introvert from an exceptionally loud family of extroverts, I spent too much time with my own thoughts, wishing I fit in better. I had feelings I didn't understand, couldn't put words to, and as an early reader who read "at the college level" by the time I was 11, it was unusual to be unable to find the words I needed.

We fought (and still fight). We cried (and still cry). We try to understand each other, even though it often feels like we all came from different planets. Are all families like that? I honestly don't know.

We had love, but we also had an unfair share of unhappiness. Well, I call it unfair, but I don't know if that is true either.

We have hard conversations, hard feelings, and hard hearts, and all the wishing in the world can't undo some of the terrible things we've done, or unsay the terrible things we've said. Lamott says,

"Forgiving people doesn’t necessarily mean you want to meet them for lunch. It means you try to undo the Velcro hook. Lewis Smedes said it best: “To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you.” (Lamott 117).

As family, we should always be prepared to forgive, because we are family, right? Even the Bible says we should turn the other cheek, so forgiveness is the word of the day, yes?

Maybe.

For me, explicit forgiveness is not free. Again we come back to the idea of grace. I am not full of grace, I might be full of something, but grace ain't it. Forgiveness comes at the cost of acknowledging the wrong, committing to never repeat it, and apologizing. An apology involves the words "I am sorry" or "I apologize for the hurt I caused to you."

A non-pology might include the words "I'm sorry if..." or "I'm sorry but..."

"I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings" is NOT an apology. "I'm sorry but I didn't mean it that way" is NOT an apology. I'm sorry for anything that I might have done" is not an apology. It is so difficult to find grace when trust is broken. Trust might be healed if the apology includes a commitment to not repeat the transgression. Trust might be healed if the transgressor takes some action toward healing. Trust might be healed by respecting boundaries.

I am no expert on grace, but I have so many expectations. I love the idea of grace, of love undeserved and without conditions. I want to learn that grace.

My therapist tried to teach me about giving myself grace. Do you want to know what is even harder? Giving grace to others. But as Smedes above said, forgiveness sets us free. Perhaps that is the grace that I am looking for. That doesn't mean that my heart is left open to be trampled by any and all who wish to stomp on it. The doesn't mean that I have no hurts left, because I do. But in my quest for giving myself grace, I have to try to let go of those hurts and move forward. Unconditional love is not the same as unconditional trust, but maybe we can learn to get closer to that, no matter how far away that grace might seem.

Read this book. It is by far one of the best I've stumbled across in a while.

Fave Quote of the Book: Small Victories by Anne Lamott

From Amazon:

Anne Lamott writes about faith, family, and community in essays that are both wise and irreverent. It’s an approach that has become her trademark. Now in Small Victories, Lamott offers a new message of hope that celebrates the triumph of light over the darkness in our lives. Our victories over hardship and pain may seem small, she writes, but they change us—our perceptions, our perspectives, and our lives. Lamott writes of forgiveness, restoration, and transformation, how we can turn toward love even in the most hopeless situations, how we find the joy in getting lost and our amazement in finally being found.

Profound and hilarious, honest and unexpected, the stories in Small Victories are proof that the human spirit is irrepressible.

I first read Anne Lamott in grad school. Her book, Bird by Bird, changed the direction of my education, my career, and my life. Although Lamott and I have some things in common, our belief systems are vastly different, but that's ok. Obviously, I don't know this woman, but from her writing, I get the impression that she is kind, warm, and thoughtful. I'd love to have a meal with her, or buy her a cup of coffee.

Throughout my diagnosis, I've been heavily contemplating the idea of grace. My therapist says I should give myself grace, but I don't always know what that means. She says I should forgive myself, and I don't always know how to do that. I have spent the majority of my life mastering negative self-talk; what is this grace we speak of?

I feel like Lamott understands me, without even knowing me. One of my favorite parts of this book is when she says,

"When you are on the knife’s edge—when nobody knows exactly what is going to happen next, only that it will be worse—you take in today" (Lamott 4). 

I feel that this is my diagnosis, summed up in one sentence. I'm still in a place of intentional ignorance. This diagnosis has taught me to take in today, one day at a time. Like an addict, I don't count too far ahead in the future. I count tomorrow, and the rest come as it may.

Lamott also talks about her family:

"Ours was like any other family, basically well-meaning, with lots of addictions, secrets, and mental illness. We were such a polite catastrophe that everyone’s energy went to survival, self-medication, Mask Making 101, and myopia" (Lamott 161).

Every family has their secrets, right? As Tolstoy said, "All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way" (Anna Karenina). While I'm not prepared to share all of our secrets, I will say that Tolstoy had his wisdom.

Am I saying that I came from an unhappy family?

Stay tuned to find out more!

A Love Letter to The Husband

As a note, I've joined a creative writing group. I have found myself inspired to write short pieces, poems, unstructured stream of consciousness pieces, highly-structured sonnets. I wrote this piece a couple of weeks ago, and I thought that today would be a nice day to share it.

The prompt for this piece was an image of a hand.

Untitled #1
my husband, my caregiver
strong hands, strong heart
protecting me with every fiber of his soul
holding me up when I am too weak to stand
dosing out my meds into my old-people-pill-box
my head hurts - the incision aches
his strong hands carefully clean the wound
mindfully protecting me from infection
those hands that I've memorized for twenty years
I know the story behind every scar, every blemish
those hands with their flaws embrace my own flaws
wiping away my tears, holding me close
I know that I could not be here if
I didn't have his strong hands, strong heart
holding the pieces of me together

Happy Birthday, Mr. Adams!

Today is Douglas Adams' birthday!

You may or may not remember, but The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy is my favorite book.

When I am feeling sad, or unsettled, lost, or just not right, I can pick up this book and open it to literally any page and start reading. It doesn't matter where I end up, it's always a good part of the story.

I am very pleased to say that recently, The Husband started reading this book. Now, bear in mind, this book, which is very important to me, is almost 800 pages long. I know that The Husband must like me at least a little, because it is quite a commitment to read someone else's favorite 800-page book. Meanwhile, every few nights, I glance over at his kindle and read over his shoulder for a few minutes. I can't say if he will love this book as much as I do, but I can say that it makes me feel even more loved that he is reading this special story for me. The occasional snicker I hear while he is reading fills my heart with even more love for this book AND this man.

I've had some people posit to me that this book is not actually very well-written. I ignore those people. Yes, I do teach Composition and occasionally Literature at the community college, but that doesn't mean that I am restricted to only reading capital-L Literature. I don't care if this book is not Literature. This story fills my heart, and any opportunity I have to share it brings more love and laughter to my life.

Dearest Husband of mine, I only hope that as you continue working your way through this monster of a book, that you continue having fun with it. That's really the point, right?

So, that's it. I bow my heavily-scarred head to you, Mr. Adams, and thank you for all of the joy, past, present, and future, your story has brought to my life. Happy birthday!

Fave Quote of the Book: So Long and Thanks for All the Fish

 My favorite book (counting it as one because I have it as one complete and ultimate anthology) is The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. I own at least 2 and possibly as many as 6 different copies/versions. There's the copy I read:

 But there is also the leather-bound copy with gilded edges. The paperback radio-script. The movie. The BBC miniseries (on Prime). All twelve episodes of the radio play. And most recently, this:

So Long and Thanks for All the Fish by Douglas Adams

Amazon Link

Now, why would I need a copy of just book 4 of the trilogy?

Before I answer that, let me tell you a story. Back before The Husband was The Husband, he worked at a bookstore. Dangerous place to get a paycheck if you are me, but luckily (I suppose) I did not work at that bookstore. But oh how I loved that bookstore. And I found out that people who work at these type of bookstores have access to things that I never dreamed of. Rare books. Databases. Dealers.

One day, the not-yet-husband gave me a gift. I don't remember if it was a Christmas gift, or a birthday gift, or a just-because gift, but this gift was a very effective love letter to me. He got me a very rare signed first edition of a book by one of my favorite authors (Smoke and Mirrors by Neil Gaiman). When he explained to me what he went through to get this book for me, that was one (of the many) moments that I knew this wonderful man loved me.


Over the years, I have acquired quite a few signed books, as gifts from friends, from The Husband, as lucky finds. It is important that you know that signed books are not for reading. They are for admiring.

What that means is that for every book of which I have a signed copy, I have a reading copy. We don't just go pawing signed books. We look with our eyes, but never touch with our hands.

Now, prepare yourselves. This is gonna get mushy.

I know that every signed book I've gotten from The Husband has been a love letter to me. He knows exactly the way to my heart. My love letter to him is in sharing my favorite books with him. He doesn't have to love them the way that I do, but getting a peek into these beloved books gives him a peek into my soul. Sometimes I feel like this is not enough, but those books make me who I am. Understanding my favorite books means he understands me.

My favorite quote from this specific book (but not from the complete series) is from Wonko the Sane:


Fave quote:
“[T]he reason I call myself by my childhood name is to remind myself that a scientist must also be absolutely like a child. If he sees a thing, he must say that he sees it, whether it was what he thought he was going to see or not. See first, think later, then test. But always see first. Otherwise you will only see what you were expecting” (Adams 587; emphasis added).

Now, I am no scientist (too much math involved) but I love this. Always see first.

When I saw this scribble on the front page of So Long and Thanks for All the Fish, I don't know what I was expecting, but what I saw was yet another love letter from The Husband. I've always wanted something signed by Douglas Adams, but because he died almost 20 years ago, finding and verifying items with his signature is decidedly more difficult than finding signed Neil Gaimans, of which I have three signed items.

Have I mentioned how much I love The Husband? Not just because he knows my love language is books, but because he knows which books, which means he knows me. He sees me.

Surprise! Surgery!

Well, I hate to surprise you like this, but this goat rodeo got dropped on us with very little notice.

So, as you read this, I am having my THIRD surgery in 8 months. Surprise!

I've had multiple scans, both MRI and CT, in the last couple of months, and what appeared to be a spot may actually be tumor. My Rockstar Neurosurgeon is cutting the thing out. Due to a series of unexpected scheduling obstacles, we did not have much notice about this surgery.

So, as of right now, all I know is that I'll be in recovery for a few days before I'm released from the hospital. I will update as much as I can, but please be patient. It will be a loooong day, and I will post an update as soon as I am able to. In the meantime, please be mindful that The Husband has to go through the stress of waiting for me to get put back together like Humpty Dumpty, so he will not be able to personally update every person who calls or texts.

Also, as it is still flu season, it is unlikely that I will take visitors. This includes in the hospital and once I am home, at least until the surgical wound is healed.

The Husband will be taking care of me, like he always does, because he is awesome.

I know that many of you will ask what you can do to help. Right now, because we haven't met our out of pocket max, this surgery will cost a few grand, I'm guessing. To put it bluntly, if you want to help, you can donate through my GoFundMe, CashApp, or a good old-fashioned check in the mail. I hate to put it like that, but we are still working on paying down the last three hospital stays.

Well, I've never been to a goat rodeo. This will be awesome. Right?

New and very important boundary

This is an important message to all of my close friends and family, especially those who know when my birthday is.

I am not going to say when it is, because I've made an important decision. As an adult, I've never liked making a big deal about my birthday, again, because most of my decisions are based on receiving the least amount of attention. It's the reason I had a not-so-traditional wedding. It's the reason I've not celebrated my birthday in public in years, and it's the reason I have a fake birthday set on FB that remains private, only visible to me, so that FB doesn't remind people about a day that I don't wish to be reminded about.

I say all of this because the anniversary of the day of my birth is coming up at some point in the next 2-9 months. If you know when my birthday is, and if you value our relationship at all, you will not share it, and you will not wish me felicidades. You will keep that date a secret.

This is a hard line for me. I have too much on my mind and in my brain to deal with birthday wishes. My mental health depends on those of you who know this secret to keep it secret.

Something I've learned as a cancer patient is that boundaries are important, but even more important are consequences.

There are those of you who will long to celebrate my birthday by announcing something on social media, unattached to this blog.

Do not do this.

There are those who might try to subtly and secretly let my "special day" be known for their friends, the family of those friends, and the friends of that family.

Do not do this.

Some of you will want to do something special for me, because in some deep morbid corner of your mind, you might be worried that it will be my last birthday.

Do not do this.

Anyone who wishes me a happy birthday, knowing that I am dealing with brain cancer, brain cancer treatments, possible surgeries, and the mental health costs that come with brain cancer will be blocked without prejudice. This includes my best friend from college, my sisters, the one co-worker who knows the day, The Husband, even my mother.

Y'all. I am not playing with this one.

Please, I beg of you, especially my beloved family and friends who know when my birthday is: Pretend you don't. My mental health depends on it.

Fave Quote of the Movie: The Shape of Water directed by Guillermo del Toro

Now, I acknowledge that I am deviating from the original plan, which was to highlight my favorite quote of the book. But because I'm the boss of this blog, and because I just watched this awesome movie again recently, I decided I'm going to modify the plan. Instead of fave quote of the book, it will be fave quote of the whatever I just consumed: book, movie, poem, etc.

Without further ado, let's talk about The Shape of Water, directed by Guillermo del Toro.

IMDB link:

At a top secret research facility in the 1960s, a lonely janitor forms a unique relationship with an amphibious creature that is being held in captivity.

First, a warning: This movie is rated R; it contains both graphic sexuality and violence. If you choose to watch with your children (or parents, or any other family members) the sex scenes might make you feel extremely awkward. It also contains exactly the amount of racism, misogyny, and homophobia which you might expect from a movie taking place in the 1960s.

Even with all of that being said, this movie is visually stunning. There is so much to unpack about this story, but before I get into all of that, I want to tell you my favorite quote from this movie:

"Unable to perceive the shape of you,

I find you all around me.

Your presence fills my eyes with your love.

It humbles my heart,

for you are everywhere."

I had to look up this poem; I needed to know more about it. At first, it was possibly attributed to 13th century Sufi poet Rumi, but additional research found that "a translation by Priya Hemenway on page 41 of The Book of Everything (first line: “Unable to discern the form of You, / I see your Your presence all around.”) is actually much closer in wording to the text of the poem at the end of the movie" (Armenti).

This sourcing seems to take this poem not necessarily as a poem of romantic love and loss, but one of faith. It is talking about God, about Allah. I acknowledge that even taking this direction may be off-putting for some, but I hope that we can all agree, regardless of whom or what we believe in, there is a nearly universal understanding that we should be kind, we should be loving, we should, as much as we can, avoid being jerks.

So, then, what is the shape of water? It is life-giving, ever-changing, so powerful. It is everywhere. It can flow and it can crash.  The shape of water is a paradox. Quenching our thirst, filling our eyes and our lungs.  How can we rightfully describe something whose form cannot be discerned? Is that faith? Is it love? Does it truly surround us? Are there answers to these questions?

This sci-fi/fantasy movie is lovely. It washes over me like ocean waves. I feel compassion and disgust, I feel comfort and imbalance. I feel water all around me.


Remember Bruce Lee: Be water, my friends.