My birthday was two days ago, and I told my husband that all I wanted this year was to disappear.  Like, I really just wanted to go off the grid for a bit.  So he took the kids and gave me the afternoon (and the shirt I kept pointing out because he’s not an IDIOT.), and I found myself here, trying to reconnect with myself.



Life after cancer seems so loud.  So busy.  And very confusing.

And I feel like people think I should have my shit back together by now.

I don’t.

A few months ago, I was connected with someone that I went to high school with who was just diagnosed.  I reached out, letting her know that I’m here for her.  That I know.  Through her emails, I’ve had to relive those early days — the bewildering, all-encompassing fear and confusion.  Her panic, her despair are palpable through the screen (but maaaaaaybe I am also projecting a tad?), and I am often reduced to tears for her (for myself?), and to be honest, I haven’t been a very good friend / support to her.

But I find myself in this weird space where I have one foot out of the breast cancer world and one foot still in.  And I lose my balance easily.

Like with the entire last month.  Oh, October.  Pinktober wasn’t good for my heart (re: anxiety level), the big pink party that it was.  October also wasn’t a great month for some of my online friends / fellow bloggers healthwise.  Their breast cancers didn’t care that they were supposed to be PRETTY and CURABLE in October.  They just did their thing.  Which is continue to ruin and take lives.

It’s not good for me.  It’s not good for me to be constantly looking breast cancer and the damage it does right in the face.  I’m still too off-balance.  I fall too easily.

But someday — and I feel guilty that it’s not TODAY — I would love to advocate for metastatic breast cancer.  Because their voices die out.  And it could be me…or my daughter…someday.

On a lighter note, I was also thinking about how tired I am of seeing my pink wig hang in the back of my closet.  I pretty much never want to see it again.  You understand.  But it’s a perfectly fine pink wig, and it got my bald head through some tough (and cold) times…so for my birthday, I want to give it away to someone who needs it right now!  Soooo who wants it?  Anyone?


In other hair news, I think I outgrew my grandpa in the last year.

October 2014 & October 2015
October 2014 & October 2015

Anyway, I got off track.  I’m not sure this post has a track though.

When I got home from my three hour long respite, a “cake party” and homemade cards awaited me.  So even in all my cancer-induced, teenage-like angst life IS pretty perfect.  And the universe or God or whatever made sure to drive that point home because that evening, Josh and I attended the wake of a 36 year-old coworker of his.  On my birthday.  Yeah, LIFE is good, and I couldn’t be more thankful for 34.