Coming Back Into Focus

Do you know the feeling when you somersault underwater, then come out of it not knowing which way is up and out into the fresh air? I have become quite familiar with that feeling over this past month. When several issues hit at once, that were frustrating, eye-opening and concerning, I had to find my way to fresh air. During that process, I stopped writing on my blog. I stopped, mostly because I had nothing to share. I had put aside my urge to check in with everyone, and to share things I was thinking about. I gave myself time to define my priorities, and to let go of those things that were no longer important.

I have made several discoveries about myself over the past month. I have learned that taking care of my family, my home, my body and my money are all priorities. Not that they weren't in the past, but I have reached absolute bottom with each of these areas lately, that I had to stare each one in the face long and hard to discover how I was going to pursue a comfortable standard for myself. Just how clean is clean? Just how much money needs to be in savings to feel secure? What foods make me feel sick and what make me feel better? How hard do I push for my kids to be involved in after school activities - or homework? How about family respect? Do I demand it at every turn?

My sister, Lisa discovered more cancer in her breast (pectoral) muscle - from the side that the initial tumors were removed. I never considered this would happen. Why? I knew it could. However, I knew what 'clean margins' meant - and when the doctors announced that they 'got it all' with the initial surgery, I never questioned it. I subscribed to the magic carpet that carried us all right out of harm's way and into the land of healing. I should have known better. But I just so desperately wanted to take a deep breath - I wanted to be certain Lisa would be fine forever. So when she called me with the new pathology report a few weeks ago, I felt all the trauma of the first cancer phone call over a year ago. Me, at a laundromat during one of my washer-break-down days, trying to shove the clothes into the dryer, putting quarters into the machine with blurry, tear-filled eyes. The quarters kept falling to the floor, and me, swearing under my breath. I wasn't angry at those quarters, but at life. At the ridiculous cosmos for causing my sister pain and anguish.

So you see, I had to step aside from this blog, from certain areas in my life that were taking considerable time and effort that I just didn't feel I could afford to give. I stopped creating art, making music for fun, enjoying friends, laughing. So many things stopped making sense, and I had to figure it out. Not really a depression, but a serious focusing to get clear on life and how I really want to live mine. I can't stop my sister's cancer. I can't change the housing market. I can't force my children to love school. I can't pay the bills unless I go to work. Looking at all of this with a positive light, I can learn more about breast cancer, to be pro-active rather than frightened. I can keep my house tidy until the right time comes to sell it. I can extend my kids' educational experiences by offering more museum trips and adventures that relate to their curriculum. I can find a way to de-stress at work, providing myself enough space to enjoy what I do and the people I work with.

And I can keep finding time to do the things I love, to keep everything in perspective.

I wish you all well.

Putting it in Perspective, Part 2

In California, I'm visiting my family.  What a wonderful time to reconnect with the people I love and have missed for so long.  As part of my sister's cancer treatment, I accompanied her to chemo today.  Having never been to a chemo treatment, I really had no idea what to expect.  I had thought it would be more upbeat than I found it, though.  I suppose the tone of it all that affected me was seeing so many people facing a serious illness.  I have tried to stay connected with my sister as she battles this experience, by phone, email, etc, but I was really surprised at how going to the treatment felt to me.  It's as if I was able to stay a bit disconnected, removed, by being across the country from her.  As if by only hearing her voice but not seeing how the medicine has changed her body has made it safer for me.  I felt so sad knowing she has fought this war.  Then I became angry with the cancer itself.  With everyone's cancer.  How can something so small rage in our bodies and make us so sick, unable to care for our families and tackle daily tasks?  

But I know that my anger is really fear.  I know that when I am feeling out of control with something (like my sister's cancer), I show anger when I really feel fear.  I want to take it away and make her well.  I want to make all those people in the chemo room well.  I want to feel more in control of these difficult feelings.  They make me uncomfortable.  But perhaps I can learn more about myself through them.  How many of us can face our uncomfortabilities?  

So, putting it all in perspective, I think it's time for me to consider some alternatives for dealing with these feelings. The reality is my sister is dealing with a serious illness.  The reality is this illness will not change just because I want it to.  My fear is that she will not have my support in the way she needs as she faces her daily climb to health.  I have days where I don't know what to do, what to say, how to face her illness.  I feel like that 5 year old who stomps her feet and says, "It's not fair".  It isn't fair, but I can learn how to understand that life is experienced on many levels at once.  I can stay in the immediate, cognitive level and try to make sense of it all, or move into what I will call the sensational level - that in which information is delivered through the senses.  On the sensational level, I try less to make sense of everything in a scientific manner, and look more at how things make me feel.  What is my gut instinct?  Looking at my sister's situation, and the chemo experience we had today, the information I get is to be patient and open.  I understand that my anger does not help me, and it takes away from the support I need to give my sister.  

Cancer is ugly.  No doubt about it.  But she's beating it, and I feel lucky to learn from so wise an individual.  Thanks to my sister, I can learn a new way to face difficult situations.  And the journey needn't be scary, since we're here together.