Tag Archives: life

It Always Catches Up

8 Sep

It’s been over a year since writing this blog.

When I was diagnosed with Stage 4 metastatic cancer in 2017, I thought it was the worst thing in my life that could’ve happened. This was my 4th recurrence, my youngest was in middle school, my others kids were not much older. I spent lots of time staring and hugging my kids as much as they would let me, and of course, crying and praying not just for more time, but at the very least, to see that youngest child graduate high school. Two years after my diagnosis, that youngest child had a devastating stroke which left him right side paralyzed and needing brain surgery to remove a tangle of arteries and veins in his brain. 2020 brought the global pandemic which messed everyone up… in the world. Then I became an empty nester with all the kids far away, and in 2022, just after Thanksgiving, we rushed my dad to the hospital thinking he was having a stroke because he kept dropping his fork at breakfast. He walked himself into the ER and 2 days later he was confused, couldn’t verbalize properly and was diagnosed with CNS Lymphoma quickly taking over his brain. He passed away 11 weeks later in 2023 and then our beloved 7 year old dog who had been by my side throughout the heaviness of my diagnosis, my child’s side after bringing him home post stroke, the joy of the family while on lockdown, who comforted us while we stayed around my dad in home hospice, died suddenly just weeks after burying my dad. This year started for me with a sudden lay off on a Monday afternoon; no warning, just a call letting me know I, along with my boss and others, were done after a reorganization. These were the big ones but I can tell you there were many other frustrations, heartaches, and not so great things that happened weaved throughout the days, weeks, months, and years.

In my head, I had to keep going strong with a smile on my face. I worked hard, kept my chin up, started and ran The Lipstick Journey and went to events and pop ups, I volunteered, went to work, kept smiling and ‘people pleasing’. Motherhood is 24/7 so there were still meals to plan, dances, college drop offs, FAFSA forms, travel sports, etc. Becoming an empty nester in 2021 around the same time menopause hit brought grief to a whole new level. The sudden quiet house with mostly empty rooms after years of chaos hit me especially hard because I have cancer and how would I get more time with the kids if they were leaving?…Especially after the heels of the pandemic; stuck all together for a long time and then they were gone. Cancer feels like a ticking time bomb and the emotional toll of that as the base and all the other big things that happened took me and my energy down. Social media took my thinking brain away with too many continuous dopamine hits leaving me in a stupor. Grief caught up because it never really goes away. I stopped writing.

The good news. My cancer has been stable for 8 years. STABLE. EIGHT. YEARS. Those pesky nodules on my lungs haven’t grown or spread. Yes, they’re still living, but so am I. Fun fact, today is scan day; every 6 months, still. My child who had the stroke just before his junior year of high school? He made a full recovery and graduated college with honors this past May and my wish to see him graduate high school had me seeing him graduate college (obviously there were tears). The other kids are living their best lives and although none of them are near, I am now in a place of gratitude for raising amazing and independent human beings. There will always be hard days when my mama heart aches to be near them but mostly I’m excited for them and grateful they are good people and are independent. We got a puppy who will soon turn 2 and he’s the best doggie. I got another job quickly after the lay off and although it’s not my ideal situation it has been a blessing. Although I loved The Lipstick Journey lipstick company, I decided to close after 5 years. It was an amazing run and I needed it. The stories of other cancer thrivers who reached out to me lifted me up and the connections I made and support I felt, all incredible. No regrets and still wearing the lipstick. Just like heartache and sadness weaved through, there were plenty of joy moments-sometimes I just had to look a little harder. ‘Our circumstances shouldn’t narrate our stories.’~Lori Gottlieb

Ok too many words. I haven’t written in over a year but I FINALLY feel like I’m coming back to myself and I’m excited getting to know this current version of me. I feel joy and hope breaking through the muck that’s been weighing on me. It took this whole year (maybe even more) to get back here. How? Waking up EARLY and keeping a morning routine of silence, prayer, gratitude journaling, and reading poetry (you can’t read a poem quickly). I take long social media breaks and I can LITERALLY tell the difference on the days I’m not scrolling. I’ve mostly only said yes to the things that I want to do and that bring me joy. I try really hard to stay in the present moment, not worrying or planning the future and not dwelling in the past. Living with cancer has made this part easier. When you understand the brevity of life, everything becomes a little more special. Life will always be filled with inspiration AND tragedy, good AND bad, joy AND grief—all of which forms us and we carry in our bodies, no one is exempt. Kintsugi is the Japanese art of repairing pottery with gold; the cracks are part of the object’s history making it more beautiful for having been broken. My comfort is through all things, God is with me, He is the gold holding me together and it’s what’s beautiful. David Gate said in one of his poems, ‘In the accumulation of loss, retain an affinity for joy and know that some truths are only illuminated by tears.’ There have been many tears but despite heartache there are many moments of sweetness if we can just sit and open our eyes.

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The Voice

26 Apr

What are your gifts, passions, and talents? I believe everyone has something they’re really good at whether it’s cooking, socializing, hospitality, a sport, etc. At the very least you have something you LOVE to do whether you’re good at it or not.

I used to sing. I LOVED to sing. Singing for me used to be like breathing (both of which are now difficult for me since cancer). Growing up, I had plenty of opportunities to sing. It was my special gift, my passion, and because I’m a melancholy introvert, it was how I expressed myself and my emotion I could be who I wanted to be. I could bare my soul through song better than through words, and dare I say, I was pretty good. I sang on a TV show, radio jingles, weddings, sporting events, and even auditioned for a Broadway musical, and made the final cut to play the lead. And then cancer. It was actually a change in my singing voice that told me something was wrong. My first surgery resulted in a paralyzed vocal cord and singing was done; in the blink of an eye, what I did so easily most of my life, and loved to do was gone.

I realized the other day while driving alone in the car, that over the past maybe 5-10 years, I had switched to only audiobooks and podcasts. That day, I switched my car bluetooth from podcast to Spotify and I got emotional. I missed music. I missed singing, and right there while I was humming along in the car, I felt the grief of that loss all over again. No, this was not the first time I’ve grieved about losing that part of me, but grief hits at weird times and can hurt just as deeply as when you first experienced the loss.

All this to say, ever since cancer took a vocal fold, I’ve tried to kind of ignore that singing part of me but there has been one event that reminds me that although my old voice is gone, what I do have left is a miracle. I have been part of a concert event that one of my doctors puts on annually in honor of World Voice Day. I think I’ve been part of it every year since maybe 2009 (minus pandemic shutdown and last year when I was out of town). I rarely tell people about it because I am no longer confident about my voice, and I am nervous and breathy and always wonder if I’ll pull it off. It’s emotional and overwhelming every single time, and I know it’s not perfect, but I still do it. All those in the concert have a story about some adversity with their voice and what a miracle it is to have it back (thanks to an expert medical team). I feel the grief of losing the one talent I thought I was blessed with, but also the gratitude of still being alive. Every year, as difficult as it is, I get to sing and while I do it, remember all that I’ve been through to still be able to get on that stage.

There were long stretches in my cancer walk that I completely lost my voice. Cancer hit my neck and took a vocal cord. Still now when I get sick it’s usually the first thing to go. If you still have full capacity of all 5 senses, consider it a blessing not to take for granted. The voice and the words you speak are powerful. If you still have yours, use it to tell people you love them, use it to stand up for what you believe in, use it to thank God you still have it, and use it to tell yourself that you are amazing no matter what.

(Catch the entire concert here: WVD)

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