What Am I Missing?

So many things out there that I never knew existed.
A discovery makes it clear why someone first believed in reincarnation--There are just too many cool things out there to do and be for one lifetime. 

Thanks to the Ephemera Fest, I learned about the existence of "zines."  They are these artistic booklets of pictures and words, put together in thematic ways.  All I know is that, in this world, there was something I'd never experienced before, and it made me realize that I've become too domesticated in my little place in the spinning system.

I used to be a risk-taking, book-devouring, new-trying explorer and now my days consist of what I will eat and what part of the house I will clean.  It's enough to make a grown woman cry and cry and cry.

I want to laugh and learn.  I want to go places and do things--real things--that others are doing.  Maybe that's why I write.  I can live hundreds of lives through my writing.  Each time I begin a new book it is a version of reincarnation.

Maybe this time I'll get it write :)

But what am I missing?  Never stop learning is ingrained in me.  I couldn't stop even if I wanted to.  Yet, documentaries on TV aren't the same as living the experience.  How do I do it though?  I've got responsibilities and compromises to make.  How do I get out there and experience this life I've been given?  How do I make it matter?  I'm not necessarily talking about leaving a legacy.  How do I make my life fulfilling?

My grandmother knew hers was fulfilled because of the family she loved and the love she received in return.  Man, I really miss her.

Maybe I'm just hitting a crisis stage.  I didn't get the job.  So what?  So, now, if I want a position like it, I have to go out of my comfort zone and find some place else.  That's a good thing, right?  Then, why does it feel so wrong?

I think I stay in my comfortable world for fear--not of the unknown--but of the known.  There's an adjustment period with change, and I'm afraid this time won't be an easy switch.

The only thing missing is my courage.  Oh, and funds.  No funding for the wild, new, and crazy things either. :/

I guess it just gives me more time to write.

It's About Time

To say it's been awhile since I last posted is an understatement and a half, but my goal was to begin writing about my recent experience with breast cancer, and honestly, I don't think I was really ready.

Truth be told, given a hundred years to process that time in my life, I don't think I would still be ready, but I'm forging ahead anyway with the hopes that someday, someone reads this and it gives them a little hope to hold on to.

Where to begin was a little tricky.  Sure, I could start with the day I first discovered a lump in my breast or I could talk about the day I was diagnosed, but to really understand the devastation of the experience I needed to begin much earlier.

I had just finished my first undergraduate year at Eastern Kentucky University and was excited to begin my second summer as a camp cook at Aldersgate United Methodist Church Camp.  The previous summer had been one I would never forget, and I expected nothing less of the upcoming one.  Boy, was that calling the spring grass green.  I met my future husband that summer, and eighteen years and three children later, he's still my unforgettable hero.

At the time though, we were young, felt immortal, and rushed headlong into a romance.  As we grew closer, he told me his mother had battled cancer five years earlier, but that she was doing fine now.  Unfortunately, that changed very quickly in the fall.  I met her once.  Actually sat down and had a conversation with her.  I remember she had short, dark hair, a kind face, and a powerful love for her family.

One month later, she passed.  The cancer returned with a vengeance and took her very quickly.  It was a sad time for all.  I was there to support my then boyfriend as he went through the visitation and funeral.  My heart broke for his father, sister and him as they grieved, and though I knew there was nothing I could say or do to make things better, I attempted to be there for my boyfriend.

Looking back, two things about that time stand out to me now.  One rainy evening about a month after her death, I was driving to a creative writing class and had a fender bender.  After the police and insurance reporting was over, I skipped my class and went to my boyfriend's house to wait for him to arrive.  While there, I called my mother and gave her a tearful explanation of what had happened, after which I sat with my now father-in-law and apologized for crying.  He gave me a slight smile and said, "That's okay.  I've cried a little myself today."  Perspective in a second.

Unfortunately, the other thing that I remember about this time is that my future husband and I broke up.  We decided not to see each other any more.  He was sad, very sad, and though I'd tried to be supportive, he needed time alone.  I, of course, understood, though my heart was devastated.

Believe it or not, a month later, we were together again, and I had no lingering doubts about the relationship.  We were meant to be together.  I still feel I could search the world over and never find anyone as perfect for me than him.  He has proven time and time again that love is a very real and powerful force, and I thank God He brought us together.

So, this is where I knew I had to start.  That time was a roller-coaster of emotion, but without this backstory, meaning about my personal struggle with breast cancer years later would be lost.

Until next time,

Sherry

Tough Week

The ebb and flow of blessings and curses is definitely on a downswing right now. This was a very difficult week. I had a presentation to prepare and give, which I abhor! I would rather dance through oncoming traffic than present something in front of colleagues. The blessing: it went well, and I got compliments. The curse: it took up a majority of my free time to prepare.

Unfortunately, we received some bad news early in the week. One of my daughter's friends at school had a mother who was very ill. She died this week. It was breast cancer. I prayed for the family and my husband and daughter went to the visitation. But I'm too close to this not to think about my own situation. She was 45. It was one year ago today that I went for a mammogram, ultrasound, and biopsy, leading to 9 months of treatment for breast cancer. Needless to say, I am distressed about this whole situation. It brings up so many of my own fears about leaving my children behind before I feel ready (are we really ever ready, though?). My 12-year-old daughter is also struggling with the passing. She feels like she really needs to be there for her friend, but she's also anxious about our own situation. I listen to her fears, and assure her we are doing everything we are supposed to do, but I can't say with 100% definitiveness that there won't be a recurrence. I will do my best to be vigilant, if not for me, then for my children and husband.

Of course, to continue the downing of the week, I had a rather eye-opening meeting about a problem student. Let's just say, if I had the same situation, I'd be acting out my anger inappropriately too. It brings up a serious issue. Why is it that low socio-economic means suck it up, we can't do anything but give you a band-aid? This kid should have gotten serious help early on.

So, needless to say, my writing has been little to none. I see my NaNoWriMo dreams slipping away unless I get a chance to write all day and all night some time soon. Hope things are going better for you.