by Band Back Together | May 1, 2016 | Anger, Anxiety, Cancer and Neoplasia, Coping With Cancer, Denial, Feelings, Health, Sadness |
Have you ever lost something that you held dear?
Maybe a favorite piece of jewelry? Time? A friend?
My mother-in-law lost her battle with cancer just a few weeks short of my second wedding anniversary. She was an amazing woman. And I’m not just saying that. Everybody adored her. When you think of the ideal mom, that was her. She had a ton of friends that sang her praises. She volunteered with the American Cancer Society to drive elderly people that couldn’t drive to medical appointments and to run errands. She would do anything for anybody. Thoughtful, warm, beautiful smile.
Clearly, she was not a likely candidate for cancer!
Clearly God wouldn’t tear an angel from our hearts!
But we were wrong. Less than a year before her death, she was diagnosed with cancer.
Religion doesn’t play a huge role in my life. It is important to me, and I pray and thank God every night for our blessings. My mom’s best friend, a practicing Christian and strong believer, once told me, “God doesn’t care where you worship him as long as you worship him.”
So I prayed. I prayed that she would get better. I prayed that chemotherapy and radiation would work. I prayed the homeopathic treatments that she tried would work. I prayed for a miracle. I tried to bargain with God. If he let her live, I would never do X, Y, or Z again. If he let her live, I’d be a better person.
A few months before she passed, it was clear she wasn’t getting better. And that’s when I started to get mad. Why would God take someone so loved by so many? Someone that had not even met her son’s children yet? But I continued to pray.
Up until the night we got the call that she had passed away. We had been over to see her earlier that day, and knew that she was getting worse. We knew what was coming. We got to say that we loved her, and spoke to her privately. When we got the call that she was gone, I was shocked that she had actually died. I expected my miracle.
And I was pissed. Pissed off at God. All those prayers? They meant nothing. Why would he take someone that was so loved by so many people? There are thousands of murderers, rapists, and child molesters that deserve death – why not take one of them?
WHY, WHY, WHY?
The prayers stopped. I ignored him when I heard him trying to “talk” to me. Religion? Obviously a joke. Why believe in HIM if he can’t even help when you asked for it. There was no lesson to be learned. No epiphany to wait for. There was just sorrow and grief.
IT WAS NOT FAIR.
Does time really heal all wounds? I think it does. Because ever so slowly, over that first year after her death, I started to listen to him again. And I started to pray…occasionally. And when I invited him back into my life because I missed him, he gladly accepted me with open arms.
I still haven’t figured out the “why,” and I still don’t know what I was supposed to learn from her death.
Maybe I never will.
But I am glad I found my faith again.
by Band Back Together | Feb 18, 2016 | Anxiety, Cancer and Neoplasia, Childhood Bullying, Divorce, Shame, Suicide, Teen Bullying, Trauma |
I’ve felt what it feels like to feel alone. I’ve felt what it feels like to feel unwanted. I’ve felt the pain of being judged. All thanks to you.
It all started in the beginning of seventh grade. I met this boy, in which at the time, was your boyfriend. You befriended me only to keep an “eye” on me. You told me, “You’re like my best friend”. You lied, repeatedly, all because of this one boy. I still remember the day when your friends texted me and told me to “back off” because you thought he was losing interest in you because of me. That’s when it began, when he “broke” your heart. I don’t know if I would’ve made it out alive, you tormented me to a point of disgust.
Everyday, you’d pass by only to call me names. You’ve called me absolutely everything one could think of. Ranging from a “slut”, to a “cry baby”. You wrote my name on walls and desks, commenting on how much of a “whore” I was. I hadn’t even had my first kiss yet. But you still kept on. Your parents supported you, babied you, all because they had no idea of who you really were, and still are. I was only 12, turning 13, but you kept consistent with your words. Only 12, and I was already thinking about suicide.
You made rumors, and pressed charges against the very person that you once “loved”. This remained until the end of eight grade. At this point, I was losing. I was losing myself, I was losing my aunt, and I was losing my parents. I cried in school because my aunt was dying from cancer, but you thought it was because of your words. That’s why I was a “cry baby”, to you. I still recall the day I messaged you on Facebook, and apologized, the same day she died. As if it was all my fault. My parents were getting a divorce, and you just kept on. Having no respect for anyone but yourself because you believe you’re the only one who deserves it. That’s a bully, that’s who you are.
The bullying subsided for about a year. We were “friends”, at least that’s what I believed. You asked for answers on the test, you asked me for help with your work. You pretended. It all started again in tenth grade, you came up to me about midway in the school year. Telling me to “keep my nose out of your business”. I was so confused, I don’t talk to any of her friends exactly for that reason. I’d never respect her, but I’d also never what to be part of her dramatic life. I was extremely unaware of what the situation was. I couldn’t stop shaking. That’s when I realized that I didn’t hate you, but despised you. Everything you were, everything you are. You traumatized me, you made me into this person full of anxiety, full of sadness. I wasn’t gonna let you win.
The next year came, I tried my best to ignore you in every possible way. The previous year, I had dated this boy, let’s just call him “Bunny”. I told everything to him, and he told me everything. We hurt in all the same ways, but he left for the summer, and we split. He knew about you, he said he’d “never date” you for what you did. But of course, that was a lie. The only person I connected to, you stole. You made him block me, exile me out of his life, and he probably hates me. That’s why I’m here now, you pass by me in the hallways, and call me a “slut”, while he’s holding your hand. All I say is “thanks”. Thank you for making me feel. I’ve felt. In which, is past tense, in which it means I won’t anymore. I’ve felt pain. But I now feel happiness. I’ve felt insufficient, but now I feel enough. I’ve felt disgusting.. But now I feel beautiful. All because of you.
by Band Back Together | Dec 3, 2015 | Cancer and Neoplasia, Coping With Cancer, Loss, Sadness, Stress, Trauma |
oh, how i miss the simplicity of our nursing days. life without breastfeeding is hard, and cancer certainly isn’t making it any easier. crying was limited to brief moments following boo-boos and over-tired minutes post car seat strap-ins. it was never part of naptime or bedtime.
a balanced diet was effortless.
i never knew the struggle of naptime. now i have to walk and rock nugget in my arms or in a peanut shell while she chews on a pacifier, maybe holds her blanket and always twiddles at least one nipple. at night we lather, rinse, repeat or if i’m really lucky we just lay down and she holds on to each boob, binky clenched between her teeth and drifts off, dreaming of nursing i imagine.
i never knew a picky toddler.
whenever nugget was hungry or thirsty the milk bar was always open. trying new and different foods was fun instead of stressful. nugget’s tummy was never upset. her favorite snack was always handy. we never had to pack a meal to go out.
i did at least have a few weeks and the foresight to work in the concept of “kisses make boo boos all better.” nugget still kisses my port and scars everyday. recently she’s added my breasts to her fix-it list and kisses and hugs them all day long.
she’s trying her best to make mommy all better with her kisses, because she knows that’s when she can have her nursies back.
by Band Back Together | Nov 28, 2015 | Cancer and Neoplasia, Coping With Cancer, Self-Esteem, Stress, Trauma |
i’m almost bald. i only shower every few days. as soon as the nausea ends the muscle pain starts. then comes the bone pain. after that subsides then it’s time to start all over again. i give nugget everything i have regardless of the overwhelming exhaustion.
this is the reality in our home. this is what my cancer looks like. this is how my daughter copes with my illness.
by Band Back Together | Nov 26, 2015 | Anger, Cancer and Neoplasia, Coping With Cancer, Depression, Feelings, Jealousy, Stress, Trauma |
don’t tell me i don’t have cancer anymore or that i “just have chemo now.”
don’t tell me to go outside and get some fresh air when i can’t be in the sun.
don’t tell me that taking a shower will make me feel better when my skin hurts too much to touch.
don’t tell me that i have the “good kind of cancer” unless you’ve had it and know how “good” it is.
don’t tell me how nicely shaped my bald head is.
don’t tell me how tired you are.
don’t tell me you’ll be there for me and then not follow through.
don’t tell me your medical opinion unless you’re my oncologist.
don’t tell me how to be me, because you aren’t.
by Band Back Together | Nov 24, 2015 | Cancer and Neoplasia, Compassion, Coping With Cancer, Faith, Fear, Happiness, Hope, Love |
a woman i used to work with emailed me this week. i read it yesterday and it absolutely made my day, which – i might add – was spectacularly craptastic until I got the email.
“i started working at magic kingdom back in 1997 and only partially knew who you were. you were always cool to me at town square and spectromagic and stuff, but we were only acquaintances. i happened upon your page through mikki and started reading your blog, “bits of myself,” and i cannot help being taken by how fucking amazing you are. sorry for the language from someone you do not know, but i can’t think of any other words. i don’t even remember where i started the “bits,” but i backed up to where you found out you had cancer. by the time i got to your final breastfeeding with nugget, there were uncontrollable tears streaming down my face at how you kept apologizing to her, for something that you did not ask for.i don’t know how much all of this means coming from someone you don’t know, but i just had to get this out. i was driving day parade floats when you were at magic kingdom with your baby girl, and i saw you two days in a row. knowing how painful it must be, there you stood in the sun, in a tank top, bald… smiling and waving.
i hope i didn’t weird you out with all this, but know that you have touched one more individual’s life. you are the strongest woman that i don’t know.”
i just needed to thank you for that and let you know that your kind words have touched my heart.
thank you for reading my blog.
and thank you to all of you who continue to do so.
i hope you’ll all stay tuned for the exciting conclusion to this chapter of my life.
