Tag Archives: My Lipstick Journey Through Cancer

Hello 2022

19 Jan

It has been a LONG time since I’ve written a blog post and honestly, I wasn’t sure if I would ever write another, but here I am. The last blog I wrote was right around the time Alex left for school making us empty nesters. Since then, I’d like to say that I’ve enjoyed all this ‘independent time’ not having to think about meals, sporting events, clothes for homecoming or prom, etc., but I haven’t. For the last 6 months I’ve been mostly sad. Not only are we in what seems like an endless global pandemic, but I also have cancer; both pointing toward a daily life of uncertainty. Time is my love language so having the youngest leave the house meant that that phase of motherhood and seeing them more often than not, was gone. Cancer already opens your eyes to your mortality so any less time with those you love is exactly that, less time. HOWEVER, I do realize that our job as parents is to grow independent kids and cheer them on as they learn to fly, so I guess I’m sad AND happy.

In the past 3 months I have been to 2 funerals; one a friend from church and the other, wife of a childhood friend that I grew up with. Both women younger than me, both moms, and both passing away from cancer. A friend of my husband’s passed away suddenly, another friend’s dad passed from cancer, and another friend’s young (younger than me), healthy boyfriend passed away just last week. All within the past 3 months. Time is our most precious commodity. Faith in a big God is still my peace.

What now? The pandemic is still raging. I still have cancer. People are struggling. All people are struggling. I am still mostly sad but getting better. All of the kids were home for the holidays which brought me so much joy and watching them come and go and ‘do their thing’ helped me be grateful for where they are AND where I am in life. We can start there, gratitude.

I don’t do New Year’s Resolutions but for the past few years I have picked a word of the year. Last year I chose the word ‘simple’ and it was so helpful. It became a mantra and reminder for me to keep things simple and to really focus on simpler solutions. I had it on a bracelet, and I printed it on the opening page of my planner and journal. This year I have chosen 2 words and they’ve already been SO helpful. My first word is Kairos. There is linear, chronos or chronological time and then there’s Kairos, or my definition of those magical moments not necessarily confined within those minutes. Glennon Doyle has written, ‘Kairos is God’s time. It’s time outside of time. It’s metaphysical time. Kairos is those magical moments when time stands still.‘ Since cancer I have always sought after those magical moments and now more than ever, we need the magic.

My second word is ‘AND’. I chose this word because with most things in life, two things can be true at once. Life can be beautiful AND brutal (an amazing full life AND cancer). I can be both sad that my kids are gone AND happy that they’re becoming these healthy independent adults. We can be grieving lives we thought would be different AND still find joy and laughter. We can be disappointed AND still hopeful. We can be scared AND still be brave enough to take that next step forward. For me, focusing on this simple word has been so powerful. If we can remember that there is an ‘and’, it makes lots of things feel more ok…well at least it does for me.

Have you chosen a word? An intention? We have one life.

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Empty Nest (yes I’m crying)

18 Aug

By the end of this week I will be an empty nester. Who came up with that name? I don’t think I like it. Plus, if it’s being compared to a birds nest, that implies they never come back. Am I wrong? Also, don’t mama birds shove their babies off and force them to fly when they’re ready? Ok. There were/are definitely times I’d love to shove the kids into the world and force them to fly but there are times I equally if not more, want to hold on and squeeze them in a hug and force them to just stay near. ‘The greatest gifts you can give your children are the roots of responsibility and the wings of independence.’~ Denis Waitley. Yes, yes, sure. I am not afraid of being an empty nester, it’s actually exciting to think the house will be more quiet, the tv/kitchen/couch will be just ours, our grocery bill will be significantly less (and I won’t have to think too hard about pleasing everyone for dinner), we can be more spontaneous, whimsical, and maybe even walk around in our underwear in our middle aged bodies.

I have been swallowed up in mixed feelings since Alex’s graduation last June, knowing he chose a college 2000 miles away and that this day would be coming sooner than later. I want to say that Alex is my hardest goodbye but I can barely remember launching the others so I know I’ll be ok. Alex is the baby and that in and of itself makes it harder. I was first diagnosed with cancer just as Alex started kindergarten and am now in my 4th recurrence. I was diagnosed as Stage 4 cancer when Alex was about to start his freshman year and I remember praying to just be alive to see him graduate high school. He has pretty much only known his mom as a mom with cancer. I’m still here, cancer has been stable since then but life was not easy within that 4 year period. Two years ago this month, Alex had a stroke and was right side paralyzed. In fact, almost everyday this month a memory has popped up on FB or in my google photos and it is of Alex at the hospital. This was the week, 2 short years ago, that he started moving his right arm and right leg again. Pictures have come up from the prayer vigil at his high school, of friends sending me encouraging videos, and of the night his friends gathered outside the hospital with flashlights and banners for him to see from the windows from his hospital floor. I lived at the hospital for 6 weeks and it wasn’t for me, it was for the child who is now ‘flying away’ and who had to fight hard both physically and mentally. Every memory and picture brings a flood of emotion. This is a hard goodbye.

A few nights ago we took a packing break and he laid down facing me on his bed and said, ‘let’s just talk.’ As I lay there facing him, I burst into tears. At the hospital, I would be in the exact position, staring into his eyes and praying at first for him to survive, then that he would just get better. I bargained with God to take me instead, after all, I was the one with cancer; the one who should be in the hospital bed. I remember the very last night at the hospital, looking at each other and both weeping about all that had happened, and expressing fear over his future and what leaving the safety of the hospital meant. I could not hold back the tears being in the exact same position looking in his eyes, I guess I have PTSD. All he said was, ‘Don’t let my last moments home be sad, be happy for me.’ I am ecstatic for him…for real!

As I try to process the last one leaving the house, I know that it’s not the fact that we are becoming empty-nesters, it’s the fear of an unknown future for both of us because of our health ‘scares’. I am also filled with questions about whether I was a good mom or not, did I help guide them on the right path, will they be ok and if they’re not, are they strong enough to ask and seek help, so many questions but I know I did my best. It seems the most random things melt me into a puddle of tears like the face to face talk, bringing something to his room and realizing he won’t be in it anymore for a long while (and then less and less), seeing the bag of almost 200 notes and letters he got at the hospital, the stupid picture memories that keep popping up on my phone, and even the random food items that only he likes that are still in our pantry and fridge. I know that as time passes these feelings will soften, he’s not the first kid to leave. It’s just another reminder that time goes so fast and to make each moment count. ‘Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart walking around outside your body’.~Elizabeth Stone.

I learned after the first one graduated high school and left that raising kids is a long series of goodbyes and as they learn to ‘adult’, we learn to let go. Now I prepare myself once again to have my house as a place he visits instead of a place he lives and to leave another piece of my heart someplace else.

‘If you would have your child to walk honorable through the world, you must not attempt to clear the stones from his path, but teach him to walk firmly over them-not to insist on leading him by the hand but let him learn to go alone.’~Anne Bronte

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Tears and Magic

25 Nov

I lost someone dear to me last week and I cried for almost a half an hour after I found out. Then I cried again today. When you are a cancer fighter, and if you’re like me who has battled cancer more than once, you become close to some if not all of your healthcare providers, especially if you see the same people year after year. Dr. Menaldi was one of those people. If you don’t know already, I was a long time singer when I got cancer the first time. I sang at local events, church, radio jingles, was on a tv show, and was involved in musical theater. After my first surgery for cancer, my right laryngeal nerve was cut which paralyzed my right vocal cord. Singing I thought, was done. My vocal rehab team consisted of Dr Rubin~ laryngologist, Dr Menaldi~speech pathologist, and Marie~vocal coach. Dr Menaldi worked tirelessly trying to help me find a new way of speaking and breathing with only one functioning cord. Eventually, she trained me to be able to sing again albeit not the same. She pushed me and motivated me and when one thing wasn’t working she researched and tried some of her own methods to get me and my voice back, or close to the way it was.

Dr, Rubin (l) and Dr, Menaldi (r)

Cancer came back twice after that first time, both times in my neck, both affecting my voice again so I worked with my voice team for several years. They had become my family, my go to, my shoulders to cry on every time the cancer came back but also the ones who stayed positive, encouraging, and who pushed me to keep working to get my voice back. Last Friday, Dr Menaldi died of cancer. I hadn’t spoken to her in awhile. Last summer we reconnected after I found out her cancer had come back but I didn’t get to say goodbye. Instead this past summer, knowing her cancer was bad, she encouraged me in my path and in my current cancer journey. I cried because it brought back my past fight, seeing her two sometimes 3 times a week for 4 years. I cried because I didn’t get to say goodbye or encourage her in her fight. I cried because it made me scared about my cancer. I cried because it was a reminder of how truly brief our lives are here on earth.

We are in a pandemic and the holiday season is among us. Yes it’s different and we are all grieving, but life is so fragile and there is so much to be thankful for. My daughter and I were talking about things we miss because of pandemic and she mentioned that she missed travel. Then she said she misses landing and seeing my face and how excited I looked when I saw her (she’s been on mission trips to Africa, Haiti, India, and studied abroad in Jordan). Toni Morrison said, ‘When a child walks in a room…do your eyes light up? That’s what they’re looking for.’ Clearly that’s what she remembers, but aren’t we all looking for that? I think when this pandemic is over we will all be looking at each other with no masks on and magic in our eyes knowing we got through.

Elie Wiesel, a holocaust survivor, lost everything and saw death all around him. After his horrendous ordeal he said, ‘When we have reasons to rejoice, we know how.’ Read that again. He knew how to rejoice and be grateful because he saw what he saw. After surviving he was grateful for EVERYTHING. This pandemic cannot even come close to being compared to what he went through but because of it, how much more grateful will you be when you can see your friends, when you can have a big party, when you can sit for a meal in a restaurant, when you can fully hug someone without anxiety, etc.. I have Stage 4 cancer. When I get caught up in the nonsense of life, I remember, I’m alive and my cancer is stable. My thing is time. When I get to spend time with loved ones I rejoice and I know how. Time is everything to me because I know how precious it is.

I’m not ashamed to say I watched the teen show ‘Dash and Lily’ on Netflix. Although it wasn’t exactly deep or brain stimulating, there was one line that stuck with me: ‘We see what we look for…magic.’ I always say there is magic in each moment and I believe it, but we won’t see it if we’re not intentionally looking. Always be looking because even now, there’s magic.

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Forgetting

3 Mar

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A crazy thing happened to me last week. For a split second or maybe more like two minutes, I forgot I had cancer. It wasn’t too much of a big deal but I was at a meeting and I just forgot and felt normal. Here’s what’s even stranger, I work for a company that kinda deals with cancer so I’m surrounded by it all the time but again, for a minute, I forgot. It made me laugh a little when it came back to me but I’ve been stable for awhile so maybe this is pretty normal.

I was with a good friend when she asked if hearing others’ cancer stories bothered me and no, absolutely not. I love hearing people’s stories and it actually helps to hear what others’ thought processes are so I know my thoughts are normal. I did however, tell her that sometimes what’s harder for me is when others forget that I still have cancer. Now, this is tricky because I’m really high-functioning so lots of people don’t know, and I also don’t want pity or any special treatment.Cancer is ALWAYS on my mind whether I show it or not.

  • Retirement~will I be alive for that?
  • My back hurts~is my cancer spreading?
  • It’s harder to breath today~humidity/allergies or is my cancer spreading?
  • Have dessert~is the sugar feeding my cancer?
  • I’ve lost a couple pounds~cancer?
  • Coronavirus~Yes, it’s awful and seems to be an epidemic. All of the news outlets say that the elderly, the very young, and the compromised are the ones really at risk since it attacks the respiratory system. I have cancer in my lungs so while people are thinking about the virus~am I one of those ‘high risk’ people that would do poorly?
  • Cancer, cancer, cancer…you get the gist

Cancer is the backdrop of my thoughts and is the steady undercurrent in my daily life. It drives many of my decisions and can sometimes control my mood. I get quiet, I get sad, I get tired easily, and because I’m an introvert, it’s easiest for me to withdraw. On the other hand, I am more observant, more joyful, and more grateful so it’s almost extreme. It’s a clash of intense joy and gratefulness along with sadness at the same time. I guess I’m asking for grace. Something I’m really working on is not judging other people’s pain. Someone may be struggling with work, a cold, a headache, a family issue, etc. and in my head I want to say, ‘but I have Stage 4 cancer.’ Everyone’s pain is their own and no one’s is bigger than another. Comparison is a killer in all aspects of life.

I listened to a podcast today and Richard Rohr said that sometimes his joy can make him sad at the same time. He went on to explain that in moments when he is overcome with joy and contentment, he is sometimes told he carries a sad disposition. He explained further that he realized that he gets sad that people aren’t experiencing the same joy and love of life; two intense emotions coexisting which he calls the ‘bright sadness’. In his ‘both/and’ worldview, opposites don’t contradict each other, they deepen one another. I’m sure I messed that up a bit but I get it and feel that as well; intense joy and gratitude coexisting with sadness. I get overwhelmed with living and being so grateful for everything and I just want to shake people and scream that life is amazing and that even in the mundane, you get to live. I get especially sad when it comes to my kids because of all the same things. All the little things they worry about, some of the choices they make, some of the entitlement they feel, or feelings of worthlessness while finding their passions and purpose, I want to shake them. More than that, I want to smother them with love, I want them to see the beauty of life and of people, I want them to know how amazing and worthy they are, and I also want to live until they’re older so I can see them with their own families. Sigh.

I forgot I had cancer for a moment. It was beautiful.

Prayer is sitting in silence until it silences us, choosing gratitude until we are grateful, and praising God until we ourselves are an act of praise~Richard Rohr

 

 

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2020

19 Jan

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Photo by Kat Stevenson Photography

It’s mid-January and I’m not even sure I know how to write anymore because it’s been so long. 2019 was a little rough around the edges from cancer, stroke, job changes, etc. and I just wanted to slide into a new year with new vision, renewed hope, and peace. So many amazing things happened in 2019 too; officially launching my lipstick company, new friends, old friends, travel, and many wonderful events. My year also ended with Alex walking, talking, driving and back in school part time, as well as my cancer still remaining stable-two of the greatest miracles. Adversity can make us bitter or better and although all the not so great events tested my patience, my heart, and my willpower, I am more patient and resilient because if it. I choose better. One thing I know is that we constantly hear we have to ‘be’ the good but I’ve learned we must also ‘see’ the good.

This year, instead of immediately thinking about the future and what 2020 had in store, I decided to take some time and look backwards; not to dwell in the past, but to learn from it. Since we entered a new decade I saw many posts with pics

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My fave picture from 10 years ago

from 10 years ago. In the past 10 years, I got cancer 3 more times, got divorced, remarried, had 2 out of 3 kids start college, and started a business. I looked at my calendar from the past year and everything that filled it, I thought about the moments and the people that brought me joy, I thought about all the crappy things that happened, like Alex’s stroke, and sat in gratitude for the people who surrounded us and loved us throughout. It was a cool thing to look back and see how I’ve grown and changed, and how all the challenges from the past year made me feel more resilient (and focused) than ever. Turning 50 also helped because now I feel like I’ve finally become who I was made to be. ‘By the time you turn 50, we have learned our hardest lessons. We have found out that only a few things are really important. We have learned to take life seriously, but never ourselves.’~M. Dressler. Maya Angelou says, ‘The 50’s are all you were meant to be.’ Yes, all about it and feeling comfortable in my skin.

My word for 2020 is SIMPLE or SIMPLICITY. What does that mean for me? Simple living, purging things we (I) don’t need. Doing the Marie Kondo thing and assessing the things that bring me joy and those that don’t. Not overdoing the ‘yes’ but not overdoing ‘no.’ Setting intentions and saying them out load. Simple faith which means losing the constraints of ‘religion’ or ‘religious’ and just following Jesus and His example of loving people…all people. Our pastor said today that God is writing His story through people’s lives. If you can look at people and know that God is their author how can you not love them? What about our enemies, the people who have hurt you? I’m still processing that, give me a minute. Also, at the end of the day if you simply love yourself and how and who you were created to be, there is less room for comparison and jealousy and the need to be something else. There’s just peace and gratitude. Life gets complicated on its own.

It’s 2020. I looked back to LIVE forward. What a crazy, beautiful life it’s been. Happy New Year!facetune_30-01-2019-10-32-43

And then one day

it seemed like

the past no longer mattered

because she had learned

her lessons,

embraced her dreams,

and the world

was at her feet. ~ Mark Anthony

 

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Tears Through Sadness and Joy

17 Dec

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This year has been a year filled with so many tears from both despair and profound gratitude. One of the aftereffects of having cancer is that your eyes and heart are so wide open, you feel and love more deeply because you’re much more aware of time, people, and life in general. Well dang, what a year it has been; still dealing with cancer, an unexpected emergency surgery, Alex’s stroke, launching a new lipstick company, job changes…so much.

A little over a week ago Alex had img_4634what will hopefully be his last procedure having to do with his stroke last summer. Afterward, while Alex was in the recovery room, the doctor came in and told us that all of the vessels in his brain looked normal and that he shouldn’t have another stroke due to AVM in his future. Done. A few hours after leaving the hospital I was alone in my car headed to the grocery store and I started to cry which then turned into weeping. I couldn’t stop. I realized that since Alex’s stroke in August, I was remaining strong and focused on him and his recovery, trying to keep his and my own spirits up, and now, I was letting it all go. All I felt was an overwhelming sense of gratitude. August and September were a blur of worry, grief, and tears and now, these were tears of joy, gratefulness, and relief.

Yesterday I had my 6 month CT scan because yes, I still have cancer. Typically for about 2 weeks before my scans I suffer from scanxiety; that anxious, fearful feeling from getting a scan that may say your cancer has advanced. I’ve even on occasion had a mini panic attack while being rolled into the machine. With my focus on Alex and his health over the past few months I haven’t had the time or energy to img_6120focus on my own stuff, which was kind of a blessing. Here’s the lesson in that, when you focus on others you focus less on yourself, it’s a good thing most of the time. I honestly didn’t even think about my scan until the night before. I got the results today and I’M STILL STABLE!! My cancer is still there but slow growing and as my doctor said in his text, ‘nothing to worry about.’ Tears, actually, lots of tears.

‘Pain and suffering eventually come to us all. At some point, we will all find ourselves in places of darkness that will seemingly overwhelm, even destroy us…Every journey into darkness, whilst terrifying, has unexpected treasures hidden in it.’~David Gotts

2019 is coming to a close, and after my scan and stable results today I feel like I am finally exhaling. A new decade is coming, 2020…a new DECADE! Through it all, what were the unexpected treasures? What were the diamonds that shone through the darkness? I cry thinking about it because there were so many points of light that I realize it was never really dark. Christmas is coming and one of the things I am most grateful for is my faith and knowing that I don’t ever have to carry anything alone. Through the tears, thank you, thank you, thank you. Thank you for following my lipstick journey. Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Cheers!img_5696

 

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Scars

22 Jul

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This week I started physical therapy on my arm. Remember, it was the neuropathy and lack of sensation in my left arm that actually helped discover my Stage 4 diagnosis. Anyhow, over the past couple of years my left arm has gotten weaker and the prickly/burning feeling has been magnified. I did a nerve conduction test and found out that I have nerve damage to the nerves in my brachial plexus from external beam radiation and it could actually get a little worse over the years. Not fun. Physical therapy was prescribed to help rehab the nerves that are left and somehow strengthen the muscles around those nerves. One of the side effects from this nerve damage is called paresthetica, which is basically persistent itching from damaged and irritated nerves. My arm is always itchy, numb, and tingly, and I now have scratched it so much that I have several little scars running up and around my left arm. It ain’t pretty and honestly, going to physical therapy is a little depressing. It reminds me that I’m sick and because of that illness, I’m damaged. The weather lately has been brutal on my breathing too…all those reminders.img_3895

I have a few scars, one on my neck from the three cancer surgeries, one on my shin from banging my leg into a car door years ago, and now, several scars on my arm from my scratching my ‘prickly nerve damaged’ skin.  ‘Scars have the strange power to remind us that our past is real.’~ Cormac McCarthy. Every scar serves to remind us of the stories that put them there but also to remind us of what we’ve overcome. I look at the scar on my neck and remember the three surgeries that put it there and how far I’ve come. The scars on my arm remind me of the 7 weeks of radiation that killed my nerves but also killed the cancer for awhile.

What about the scars you don’t see? The ones left by hurt, words, anger, discouragement, do those heal? I think it takes a really long time. I am fully aware of how damaging words and actions can be. When scars heal they change the texture of your skin, but what about the damage of scars on your heart and soul? Hurt always alters something. ‘It has been said, ‘time heals all wounds.’ I don’t fully agree. The wounds remain underneath but the scar toughens the exterior. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone.’~Rose Kennedy. We are all damaged and scarred to some degree visible or not, and we should remember that when speaking to each other.

For now, I will keep going to physical therapy without getting mad at my body. I will look at all my scars and remember that I am strong.

Today I wear The Lipstick Journey lipstick in Fierce because that’s how I’m feeling 🙂

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Two Breaths

5 Jun

img_3582-1It’s been a rough week and it’s only Wednesday. My scan, which was scheduled for Monday had to be canceled because the insurance company wanted to review my case to decide whether I actually needed a scan or not. This was a bit of a jolt to the system because it takes quite a bit of mental preparation to even get to scan day. As a metastatic cancer fighter who has been getting scans every three months to determine if her tumors are growing, I rely on these scans (maybe too much) to determine how I will live the next 3 months until the next scan. ‘Rely’ may be too strong of a word but knowing if your cancer is progressing is a pretty big deal. I was able to reschedule for 2 days later (today) so I quickly got over the hump of anxiety and disappointment.

Yesterday morning I was in a minor, which could have been major, car accident while taking one of the kids to school. While turning into the school a woman ran through the red light and slammed into my car. When I heard the horn and looked, I quickly accelerated so she ended up only hitting my back wheel and all was fine. Then, later in the morning I got a call from the hospital telling me that my insurance denied coverage for my scan because they found it not medically necessary…WHAT???? It took me a minute to get over the first cancellation, this time, I lost it. Angry, frustrated, nervous, I called insurance and made her listen to my WHOLE cancer story and why the scan was necessary for my case. I also called my doctors office and asked that they call, but by then it was the end of the day. After my calls I broke down and cried out of frustration and maybe out of fear. Cancer is just as big a mental game as it is a physical one. Good news is, the doctor’s office did call insurance today and they were told that after further review, they changed their minds and approved my scan…now scheduled for Friday. Lesson: WE ARE OUR OWN ADVOCATES!

It is only Wednesday. Deep breath. Interspersed into these 2 major events we had a child graduate high school, moved another child back to her college town into a house, and had to turn in a leased car while finding another one…all of these things just since Sunday. Oh and of course there is always teen drama and what have you, pushed into the small bits of time that I’m just trying to find a little peace in. It is only Wednesday. How does one find peace and solace when there is barely enough time to breathe? How do I release the stress of having cancer while attempting to still handle real life and all the unexpected daily events from insurance companies, work, teens, ex-husbands, etc? ‘Anything you can’t control is teaching you to let go.’~J.Kiddard  Hmmm. Ann Voskamp recently wrote, ‘Waiting is a letting go to let something grow.’ I can’t control any of those unexpected daily events and I can’t control people, including my kids so I have to let go. I consider Ann Voskamp’s quote and I wonder about the word waiting. Waiting to me means time, cancer takes away time so I view all of that simultaneously; the waiting, the letting go, the living, the growing, it’s all mashed together. Inhale wait, exhale let go. Inhale life, exhale grow. Two breaths. Can it be that simple? I know I have God on my side and that knowledge is everything. In a podcast I listened to, John Green called God the painter while we (humans) were simply the frame. So yes, through adversity and daily challenges, I will remember my two breaths living life and trusting God the painter of masterpieces. Inhale wait, exhale let go. Inhale life, exhale grow.

Today I wear The Lipstick Journey lipstick in Serene which is a beautiful brown/coral shade. Sometimes I wear lipstick because it’s how I feel on the inside and other times I wear it because it’s how I want to feel. Serene is perfect for just this moment.

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Ever Onward

26 May

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In Kelly Corrigan’s book, Tell Me More, she talks about mottos. Her life motto after she finished college was, ‘Things happen when you leave the house.’ Meaning, any day could be a huge day. You don’t know who you will speak to, bump into, what new opportunity exists outside your door, but you have to leave the house.

The past few weeks have been pretty amazing. I was nominated and chosen as a top female founder/entrepreneur in the Detroit area, have had all the kids under one roof again for a short time, then this past weekend had an amazing photo shoot for my founderlipstick company with beautiful thrivers; ladies thriving through life despite health surprises. Survivors of breast cancer and lymphoma, one still fighting brain cancer, and one living with alopecia. It was a magical morning for me and one that brought me tears. It struck me that each one of us was fighting or had fought something that was trying to take us down. We had that common thread of fear, sadness, insecurity, but here we were, surviving, overcoming, fighting, and smiling. I had each of the ladies write their stories down in my notebook and the last words of one of the women were, ‘Ever Onward.’ Perfect. Every one of us pressing forward on our journeys. This is what my lipstick company is about and it made my heart full. Life IS our canvas and these are the things that can happen when you choose to get out of your comfort zone…when you decide to leave the house.

Life is made up of huge events that mark themselves as memories but it is also made up of millions of tiny moments in between. Is it possible to just be in the minutia as much as in the big? The kids were all here together for the first time in awhile, all 5 in one house. Yes it was chaos at times but with the older 2 in college most of the year I didn’t mind. I don’t miss the chaos but I do miss them. Time is my love language, with that comes the fact that I never want to miss the moments, and with the older two home I wanted as much time as I could squeeze out. That’s the goal, be in the moments, the big, the small, ALL OF THEM. I can’t help thinking about the beautiful photo shoot without thinking about all the moments that got me there; cancer, lipstick, mission, life. Then there’s the top founder nomination; cancer, book, blog, cancer again, vision, mission, starting a company, hustle. Lots and lots of minutia but each moment counting for something.

I have my next CT scan in a week. I can’t believe it’s already been three months since the last one but I’ve been in that weird head space again. I’m sad that I still have cancer and have to do this every three months. I’m nervous about what they may find. Am I still stable? Are the tumors growing? Are there more tumors? Is the cancer spreading? I hate all those feelings and questions, I hate the time bomb strapped to my chest waiting to explode on me, and I hate the fact that these questions steal precious moments. If I am still stable I will be one month shy of having stable Stage 4 metastatic cancer for 2 years which in my mind classifies my cancer as a chronic illness like diabetes or asthma (at least that’s how I’m going to try to think about it). It’s crazy but EVER ONWARD.

‘You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment. Fools stand on their island opportunities and look toward another land. There is no other land, there is no other life but this.’~Henry David Thoreau

Today I wear The Lipstick Journey lipstick in 2 colors, yes you can layer! I put Playful on the bottom and Promise on top which makes a beautiful brighter mauve color on me. It’s actually the perfect combo for how I’m feeling, still playful because of all the amazing moments and hanging on to the promise that God is good and He will continue carrying me through whatever the results of the scan. Cheers!

 

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Unlucky

27 Apr

mountain

Unlucky. I recently had a medical issue pop up (unrelated to cancer) which led to a surprise surgery. Not to worry, it was an outpatient procedure, and after resting a few days I was feeling better. I was in my (now former) doctors office that morning when she said, ‘I scheduled you for surgery later today. This can happen, you’re just unlucky.’ Excuse me? My response, ‘You know I have cancer right? A surprise surgery is not great news.’ Doctor, ‘I know and that’s right, metastatic thyroid is rare too…seriously unlucky.’ Yes, I called the office after I left begging for a different doctor, anyone else in the multi-physician practice but yes, this is the woman, the only one available, who was to perform the surgery later that day.

In elementary school during gym class and sometimes at recess, there were those times when the teacher would pick a ‘captain’ to a team and those kids were tasked to pick people to be on their teams one by one. Considering I was a girl, shy, and one of the only minorities in a predominantly Caucasian school (after we moved to the suburbs from Detroit), I was generally picked last. I was actually a pretty good athlete unbeknownst to them. I don’t even know why I remember this but whatever team I was on would always lose. Even when whole classrooms would compete with each other on ‘Field Days’, my class would lose. Of course moving on to Jr High and Sr High running track, playing tennis, etc, this was not the case anymore, but in those formative years of my very young youth, I felt like I was the ‘omen’ to any team I was on. I honestly do not know why I felt like that but maybe it was because I was the outlier, the minority, the shy girl who barely talked, but every time whatever team I was on lost, it was no surprise to me.

Fast forward to the doctor calling me unlucky for this medical mishap and also my ‘rare’ cancer. It brought back memories and maybe the underlying shame that I’ve always carried of being the girl who brought bad luck to a team. None of it was fun and bad memories/feelings tend to stick. I have not always been on a losing team. In fact, I’ve been on winning teams most of my life whether it be in high school sports, competitions, pageants, or even my work teams. Looking at my life now, I found an amazing husband who loves and supports me in everything I do and everything I think about doing and who holds my hand at every scan and appt. I have amazing kids and great friends, a great career and now a lipstick company that helps people and has brought me new life despite having cancer. Strangely though, the ugly feelings of not being on a winning team still bubbled up at that doctors office, caught me by surprise and gave me that insecure feeling again. For a brief moment I questioned my ‘unlucky-ness’.

‘Meanwhile, the moment we get tired in the waiting, God’s Spirit is right alongside helping us along. If we don’t know how or what to pray, it doesn’t matter. He does our praying in and for us, making prayer out of our wordless sighs, our aching groans. He knows us far better than we know ourselves, knows our pregnant condition, and keeps us present before God. That’s why we can be so sure that every detail of our lives of love for God is worked into something good.’~Romans 8:26-28 The Message.

You can’t believe in luck if you have faith and if you truly trust God and His plan. I am a Christian and that’s how I believe but I’m also human so it’s ok to experience fear and doubt too. What’s not ok? Shame. Words from your past that have imprinted onto your heart and brain…blog for another day. Life is a series of alternating bad or uncomfortable things that teach us lessons in love, patience, overcoming fear, resilience, etc,; and good things that bring us love, peace, joy, and calm. Both lessons to either rely more on God and less on self, or to be grateful to God for our blessings. It’s called being alive. Our histories and past make us who we are today but don’t dictate our future or who we are ‘supposed’ to be. Lucky or unlucky? No such thing. Things happen, we move forward, staying grateful, and trusting God.

Today I wear The Lipstick Journey lipstick in Fierce. I’m feelin’ it. Cheers!

 

 

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