Pain - Peace

I have a friend who lives in pain, much of it from not taking care of herself. I think about my adult years, and I realize that much of the pain I was in was self-induced. One of the hardest things I have ever done was walk away from someone I loved, so that neither one of us were inflicting pain on each other, so that both of us could find peace. This wasn't a noble move - but one of survival, without doing this I'm afraid I would have imploded.

Cancer has given me plenty of time to look outside and inside of myself. Peace does come from within, and if there's anything I can control - it's me, nothing, no one else. There is peace in "surrendering to win," and "letting go and letting God." Handing control over really means maintaining control - because I am choosing to give up that control. The pain may still exist, yet choosing to not let the pain be in control is definitely a choice.

My friend, the one in pain, how does she learn to walk away from her own pain - physical and emotional? Can you walk away from yourself - to find peace? Can you walk deep inside of yourself to find it? What can I learn from my pain, from those things that trigger pain?


When I hurt my initial reaction is to react - to find someone/thing to fix me. Reality is this - medication works, but I work too. In my humble opinion, pain is outward, peace is inward.

Just sayin'. 

Loss and Laughter

Kevin Kling is an amazing man. He's not much to look at, but once he opens his mouth and makes you open yours in laughter, you no longer see what's wrong, but only what's right.

My family was first introduced to Kevin at the Timpanogos Storytelling Festival, the year after Cliff's (Jenna's husband) accident. We felt a connection - and he has endeared himself to us. He's been back to the Festival a few times, and I will not miss an occasion to listen to him (well, I did, at Christmas time, but only because I was so stinkin' chemo sick). Today's post is dedicated to Kevin. Kevin has taught me that "you can never judge another man's pain," among many other things. Take a moment and listen to him here.

Whew

A good week, a very good week. I've started venturing out into the wild - working on doing one thing a day outside of my exercise, cancer, work, nap, sleep routine of the past 6 months.

• I've been to lunch with a couple of friends. 
• I went to a cancer support group. 
• I shared with some folks beginning cancer treatment and laughed and smiled with some folks on the healing side of cancer treatment. I'm learning about my story by verbalizing my story.
• I haven't worn a hat all week, and today when I put one on, I quickly removed it - I think it's a trigger right now - makes me look like I have cancer. I'm going to wear my S&P proudly.
• I shaved my legs! First time in 6 months - not sure if that's a blessing, but at least this shows my body is healing. 
• I chaplained a little - good feeling to get out of myself and serve others. 
• I had a pedicure and a manicure. 
• I made arrangements to visit SoCal in a few weeks.
• I made a few mistakes, like trying on swimming suits - miserable idea, horrible results. But I did it! I bought a dress - quickly returned it. I tried to mall shop - didn't make it out of the car, I have eaten too many sweets.
• I'm thinking about tomorrow, not just about the next hour.
• I'm living in today - nice to have a present and a future.

These are all things that I didn't even have the energy to add to a regular day even a week ago. I don't want to stay holed-up, and I don't want to complicate my new life, but doing, along with the being, is feeling good.

Here's to a happy Friday and feelin' good weekend -

Wabi Sabi -

Colen Sweeten, Jr., a cowboy poet and dear friend, had on his business card, "You can still drink from a chipped cup." He passed away a few years ago; I wonder what he would have to say about the Wabi Sabi principle - seems he understood the phrase without knowing the term. 


Wabi Sabi means this - find beauty in the imperfections. Appreciate the simple, the pared-down basics. Find joy in the every day. Use what you have, need less, love more. Look for faults, you'll find them, look for beauty in those faults, and you will find more.


I haven't been out much in the past 6 months. I've been forced (awkward as that sounds) to find my joy in my simple surroundings (which includes admiring the paint job on my bedroom walls and watching the sun's rays migrate across the bed). My needs have been basic, my wants have been merely staying alive and healing, and my reliance on others has been for survival. 

Yesterday my internet went down - and it was finally fixed at 4:30 today. I've been a little stressed, my work requires my being on the computer several hours a day. I was irritated, angry, and then I paused (this routine happened more than once) - I saw this as time to clean up my 2012 files, sift through 2000 e-mails, do some work that required concentration and time away from my computer.
 
I like my simple uncomplicated way of life (and it can be pared down to basics, if I want). I want! I want to hold on to Wabi Sabi.

Finding What I Need

I spent some time on Saturday night with a friend. Her husband passed away 3 years ago; he is my age. As we talked about grieving, I mentioned my initial thoughts would be to reach out for support, but instead, I've been reaching in. She smiled and wholeheartedly agreed.

This is what I mean:
For the past several years I've been doubting - and usually when I doubt I do research and ask questions to find answers to my questions. I did this when I went through my pre-divorce stage, when I went through my seeking God stage, parenting, grandparenting, step-parenting stages - seeing what others have to say. And I've learned.

Then cancer - and my boob party, and my desire to be surrounded by folks who could help me with answers. I purchased, and was given, books, was sent website links, was told about alternative treatments, etc. And I love, love, love the support.

I've learned something about myself though, in all of this. And that is I've had to turn inward and find strength from within to make it day to day. The support I have has allowed me time to be pensive, reflective, hesitant.

I thought chemotherapy time would be a chance for me to read my scriptures, read about cancer and its treatments, read about chaplaincy and grief and healing. Yet I haven't read a lot of books, joined discussion groups, watched TV/movies. I haven't had a need. What I've learned, and my friend said the same thing, is, time and space for meditating and reflecting, sorting, sifting, organizing brings answers to questions.


With 6 weeks off and now beginning radiation, I'm coming to the realization that what I've been searching for, for so many many years, is deep inside me. I'm finding that. Being still is a lesson I'm learning. Turning inside, pulling myself up, searching my own psyche rather than the internet, has brought me peace, a time for reflecting, reflecting of the introspective type.

How often do any of us really take the time to stop and look inside? I believe we are "outsource" driven, looking for someone, something, somewhere, that we fail to realize the answer is inside.

I'm Ronda, I'm 54, I have breast cancer, and I'm learning to trust - me.

A Job I Hate -

Have you ever had a job you just hated, and you so looked forward to Fridays, 5pm, so you could enjoy your weekend, and then come Sunday evening you felt so down and depressed because come Monday, you were right back in the "old grist mill" doing something you hated, but you had to do? Well, that's me.

I love my Monday through Friday 9-5 paying job. It's not that I'm complaining about. I hate my Monday through Friday dawn to dusk cancer job. Sunday nights are so depressing because I know come Monday I have to go back to working cancer. I can be a little bit me on the weekends; I can forget about cancer, chemo/radiation, socialize, get a little tired, nap, not talk about me, but come Sunday, 7pm, invariably, the depression alarm goes off, and I realize that I still have tons and tons of work to "get better." And it's not easy, and it's always on my schedule.

Damn you, cancer, for screwing with my days. The weekend pit stop is over, and today, Monday, the long stretch of driving begins, again. 

The Sign of the Breast

So I started radiation yesterday. But - let me go back a few years. 

I began teaching water aerobics in Brigham City, UT, in 1984, right after Jenna was born. I taught for several years and developed quite a program in this small town. One of the benefits of teaching was being able to associate with women of all different ages, different sizes, and different levels of health, and different skin art. The one thing they had in common was that they were comfortable in their skin. Comfortable enough to wear a bathing suit and dress in the women's changing/showering room which was communal. After exercising, we showered, rinsed off our swim suits, changed for the day, and left, that's it, no comparing, no "my body's better than yours," etc. One of the beauties of that time was that there were a few women, maybe 5-7 (out of 20), who were breast cancer survivors. Some had partial mastectomies, some full, one breast, both breasts. These women had scars that told of their journey and tiny tattoo marks (the size of a pin head) for radiation treatments, as well as other scars and tattoos. I never heard a woman mention regrets at their body type or their markings.

Over the years I've had plenty of surgeries and injuries, and the scars now hold stories. My knees - summer of my senior year in high school, now the surgery is minor, at that time, it was 3-5 days in the hospital, and crutches for 6 weeks. More to the story. Pregnancy scars - some from Tyler, some from Jenna. I have a scar on my elbow from using my dad's belt sander - without asking or having proper instruction. A little over a year ago I had back surgery; really long story, not to be told here. The scar on my back is about 5 inches long; it is still a little pink - new looking. Now - 2 larger scars, one under my left armpit, the other across my chest, from my left side to halfway to my sternum, and 2 smaller scars where my port is (I didn't even know what a port was 7 months ago) - and you're hearing that story - it's ongoing.

Last January, a month post- back surgery, I decided I needed beauty surrounding my scar. One day I was "pondering" what to do. I saw a picture of a bird with an olive branch (on an church manual), and I had my answer. I have 3 small birds on my left hip as a constant and permanent reminder of life, love, grace, beauty, serenity. These birds of peace have brought me much joy and peace this past 13 months, and during cancer treatment they have served as a grounding place, an area of my body where I chose the marking. 

On Wednesday I received 5 permanent dots - 3 down the middle of my chest and 1 on each side of my body, below my breasts. They will be markers for the radiation treatment - indicators for where the radiation will be delivered, and they will be with me forever, they will mark me as a breast cancer survivor. 

Interesting how I am now, in many ways, one of the women with whom I exercised. My story is now added to the archive of body art, some mandated, some chosen. And as I see it - all beautiful, all worthy of story time.

My mother, who knows this story said, "Visible scars are explainable, emotional scars, less so.  We learn from them all. You have not complained about any of the visible scars - that is a great example of acceptance, gratefulness to have a body w/without scars, hair, beauty marks, deformities, etc. The Brigham City women set a great precedence for you without you knowing about it at the time. Your acceptance and feelings are comfortable and good examples."