Seasonal slump, the "after," WHY am I STILL reshuffling?!

Every year at this time, without fail, I go into what I call my “seasonal slump.” (I just came up with that name like two hours ago, and up until now never really had a name for it.)

It happens right after daylight savings time, right around the transition from November to December, or, when it really becomes winter. Less daylight, more wind, more cold, more snow. It happens to me every year. It usually lasts a week or two. I know it’s coming, I know when it’s here, and I just kind of deal with it. Mix that into my “reshuffling” phase, which I’m still going through, and you’ve got quite a slump. A seasonal slump.

I’m still reshuffling, still trying to find my place, my control in a new life. A life without cancer. A life without worries and anxiety every second of every day. A life I waited for and prayed for, and now that it’s here, I’m having trouble finding what to do with it. It’s not that living is hard. Living is great. I have no trouble with the daily: work, dog, exercise, etc. I am in so much less pain (though I’m still getting used to my “heavy” C-cup chest). And so I’m still reshuffling. It’s funny because I KNOW I’m reshuffling, but I still don’t know exactly what that means, or what it will mean, and Dr. Kelly says that’s fine and that’s to be expected.

When my life seemed (or WAS) out of control (in the midst of wedding planning, LFS, breast cancer and six surgeries), I found areas I COULD control (such as eating, or eating very little), and what helped control those areas was medication. For nearly two years I had prescriptions to Ativan (muscle spasms, anxiety), Ambien and narcotic pain medication. And I needed all of it. It helped. It significantly improved my quality of life. Not that I should ever need to explain or defend myself, but it was IMPOSSIBLE to sleep without Ambien. I had expanders, surgery, pain, anxiety. I was planning a wedding with rocks under my chest wall. I had just found out I carry a genetic mutation that makes me prone to cancer, and helps explain the two cancers I had already. It’s exhausting even halfway through trying to explain what all of those medications did for me. But you know it all. I couldn’t lift my arms or get into my car without ripping, tearing pain. I couldn’t sleep on my side, stretch my back. My neck and shoulders were in knots. I used to cry driving in the car from Lewistown home from work because the pain was so bad. With every breath my chest went into convulsions. And here I was, trying to get married, trying to plan a wedding, trying to be beautiful in the face of a cancer that took so much from me. It is exhausting to even try to explain all that, so I won’t. It’s all here – in Pink and Pearls. But my point is this: I don’t have those medications anymore. Sure, I’m on Zoloft for anxiety, and it is helping. But I don’t have my “quick fix.” I know it makes me sound like a drug addict when I say that, but when things got really rough or the pain was really bad I popped a pill and was on my way to the next thing. That medication helped me move on, move forward.

Nobody talks about the “after.”

It’s true, I don’t have that debilitating pain anymore. I can sleep on my sides (working on getting to my stomach), can drive without crying, can breathe without muscle spasms. The wedding is over. My life is moving forward. I have those six words. (The breast cancer is behind me.) So why would I need that medication? Why would I need that “quick fix” when life isn’t so unbearable anymore? I don’t. I don’t need it. But I do need to regroup. Enter the reshuffling. I need to find my control (without pills). I have my drive, my motivation, my will to live. I am lucky and blessed. I am the luckiest and most blessed woman in the world. I truly believe that. But I’m in the “after” and I’m not sure what all of this means.

I know this all sounds pretty confusing, and trust me, it is to me too, even as I type it. But so much of Pink and Pearls has been figuring out stuff about myself AS I type it out. Coming to conclusions, even if not every day or all at once.

Maybe the “after” that nobody talks about, after the cancer is gone and you don’t need those pills anymore, is that you’re a changed person. You’re a new person. And even if you feel better, stronger, luckier, you’re still new. You’re still different. And you are trying to live the way you were before the breast cancer. But you don’t know how.

I don’t know the answer or solution to any of this. I’m still trying to figure it out, and I guess it may take a long time. But I do know how to lift myself up from my seasonal slump, which was the purpose of this post in the first place.

All it takes for me is some purple high heels, dramatic mascara, a grande coffee from Starbucks, and a trip to the gym.

Try to find little things to cheer yourself up, even if they are things nobody else knows about. It won’t “cure” your slump but it helps. And never, ever take anything that helps, even a little, for granted.

This morning as I was getting dressed I found myself “in the mood” for high heels. I found myself “in the mood” for a little more makeup than usual. And suddenly I found myself “in the mood” for the gym tonight.

I truly believe the time will come when I’m no longer reshuffling. It’s so funny to think, that for someone who is so confident in herself and so set in her life, that I’m having trouble remembering how to live. Or how it was to live before all this. Or how it will be to live AFTER all this. Everyone keeps talking about life AFTER cancer. Guess what, I’ve done that before. I am a 15 year Leukemia survivor.

I saw my doctor a few days ago to go over the results of my abdominal ultrasound (regular screening for LFS). Everything came back normal, like I thought it would. The doctor, who is filling in for my regular oncologist while the office re-staffs, was learning all about LFS, and had been doing some research before our appointment. He greeted me by saying “hello trouble,” in a joking way, referring to all the “trouble” LFS has caused in my life. He shared with me that he learned there are a few main cancers LFS is responsible for, including Leukemia and breast cancer, and said I’ve already had two of the main cancers. Then he said: “what’s next?”

And I said “nothing.”

I think if I believed my cancer journey wasn’t over, I wouldn’t be trying so hard to find a new way to live after cancer. I don’t ever know what my future brings, especially my health. But I have no intention of living like I’ll get cancer again. In my heart and mind that is profoundly clear.

So I really, truly am working on the “after.” And maybe it’s so hard because before I didn’t ever really believe there would be an “after.” Sure, I believed I would be healthy again and I believed I would live. But I never believed my mind would move BEYOND the breast cancer. I never believed my mind would accept not having cancer. I never believed I would be able to put it out of my mind the way that I have now. Maybe I always said there would be an after, but I didn’t have any practice living that way until now.

That’s got to be the biggest and best conclusion of all. I’ve gotten to the “after” so much faster than I imagined, which means I’m stronger than I imagined.

Surprising, exhausting. It’s never a dull moment. At least I’ve got great shoes and hot coffee.

This Thanksgiving

No words or list could ever fully express how thankful and blessed I feel. In the spirit of Thanksgiving, I’ve compiled a list of things I’m thankful for, in no particular order. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! Wishing you safe travels, and a healthy and happy holiday!

1.       I’m thankful for all of my family and friends, and their health, safety and happiness.

2.       I’m thankful I got married.

3.       I’m thankful my wedding was the most amazing day of my life.

4.       I’m thankful I don’t have to work on Thanksgiving this year.

5.       I’m thankful for my dog, Campbell, and his endless love and antics.

6.       I’m thankful I beat breast cancer.

7.       I’m thankful I became stronger after beating breast cancer.

8.       I’m thankful I learned something about myself after beating breast cancer.

9.       I’m thankful my breast cancer led to my LFS diagnosis.

10.   I’m thankful my LFS diagnosis is giving me access to health testing and screening I wouldn’t otherwise have. (I’m thankful the LFS diagnosis may one day save my life)

11.   I’m thankful we are building a new house.

12.   I’m thankful we have a new nephew.

13.   I’m thankful my new nephew is healthy and strong.

14.   I’m thankful I have a good job where I’m treated well and love what I do.

15.   I’m thankful my husband has a good job where he’s treated well and loves what he does.

16.   I’m thankful President Obama won re-election.

17.   I’m thankful my brother is able to work hard and advocate causes he believes in, and is seeing progress and results in what he’s fighting for.

18.   I’m thankful we have heat in our house and food on the table.

19.   I’m thankful I’m healthy.

20.   I’m thankful we have a roof over our head and a safe place to live.

21.   I’m thankful we got to travel to Paris and Italy this summer for the most incredible honeymoon.

22.   I’m thankful I have Chanel lipstick from Paris.

23.   I’m thankful I climbed the Eiffel Tower, and kissed my husband in front of it.

24.   I’m thankful I can exercise.

25.   I’m thankful I’m not in debilitating pain every day.

26.   I’m thankful my surgeries are over.

27.   I’m thankful I love my body after breast cancer.

28.   I’m thankful for my doctors.

29.   I’m thankful I ate a Hershey’s chocolate bar this morning with breakfast, and that it was “allowed” on my Weight Watchers plan. I’m thankful for Weight Watchers, which lets me eat chocolate and drink wine, yet helps me to maintain my weight in the process.

30.   I’m thankful I recognize sincere chocolate cravings and have access to proper supplies to conquer those cravings.

31.    I’m thankful I get to do what I love every day at work: write and edit.

32.   I’m thankful I get to grow and learn at work.

33.   I’m thankful I still find joy in writing. (I’m thankful that I think I always will)

34.   I’m thankful I find joy in almost everything.

35.   I’m thankful I have been able to share my breast cancer-wedding planning story through this blog, The Moth, Lifetime Movie Network, PA Breast Cancer Coalition, The Centre County Gazette (my newspaper) and the Pink Zone.

36.   I’m thankful for my network and teams of doctors who keep me well and are proactive about my health: my psychiatrist, primary care doctor, oncologist, genetic counselor, breast surgeon and plastic surgeon.

37.   I’m thankful I had a physical therapist for about six months who got me doing push-ups again after surgery. I’m thankful she taught me exercises and stretches I can do on my own.

38.   I’m thankful there is no limit to what I can do: physically and mentally.

39.   I’m thankful my office is downtown, and walking distance from Panera, sushi, Thai food and Indian food.

40.   I’m thankful I know what I love and I know what I want and I make sure to keep both of those things at the forefront.

41.   I’m thankful to feel the love I feel every day for my husband.

42.   I’m thankful I know what makes me happy, and that I also keep that at the forefront.

43.   I’m thankful I work better under pressure.

44.   I’m thankful I recognize what stresses me out, and now have the ability to exclude or limit those things from my life.

45.   I am thankful for Panera, sushi, Thai food and Indian food.

46.   I am thankful for the love and support everyone in my life gives me every day in different ways.

47.   I am thankful for my very best friends in the whole wide world, who have been through the best and the worst with me, (Some of these friends have been through both the Leukemia and the breast cancer with me), and who love me more as each year goes by. Whose love is unconditional and can’t be matched.

48.   I’m thankful that when I look back at my wedding, my bachelorette weekend, engagement parties, Aufrufs and three bridal showers, I don’t see the breast cancer. I see me, happy.

49.   I’m thankful I remain true to my values and my beliefs. I’m thankful I know what they are.

50.   I’m thankful I could make this list in about 10 minutes.

51.   I’m thankful I could easily top 50 things.

Thank you.

I have some pretty amazing friends. I’d like to dedicate today’s post to three of my friends who are running and walking in my honor this coming spring. My friend Amy is training for the Pittsburgh Half Marathon as a member of the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society’s Team in Training. My friends Jordanna and Lauri are doing the 2013 Avon Walk for Breast Cancer in Washington, D.C. Both races are in May!

You might have seen the photos and links on the right of my blog that connect to each of the donation pages. Here I’ll include the direct links. Even if you aren’t able to help out monetarily, I encourage you to leave some words of support and encouragement. I am honored my friends have chosen to put their time and energy into a cause so important to so many people. It’s people like them who truly make a difference.

It took a lot of people to get me where I am today. From my doctors who cured my cancers to my surgeons who “fixed me up,” to my friends and family whose support and strength never, even for a second, waivered. Because of money and research and determination, we are a lot farther today in treating cancer than we were even 10 years ago. Because of that money and research and determination, cancer patients survive and become cancer survivors. But like I said, it takes many, many people. Teams of oncologists, pathologists, surgeons. And family and friends who decide to take action in ways they can, and know how. They put on their sneakers and start walking and running. And that money goes to help patients become survivors. And that support, encouragement and love helps those cancer survivors thrive. I would know.

Amy’s page: http://pages.teamintraining.org/wpa/pittsbrg13/amycz

Jordanna and Lauri’s page: http://info.avonfoundation.org/site/TR/Walk/WashingtonDC?team_id=112020&pg=team&fr_id=2190

What I've been up to since my last surgery ...

In no particular order, here are just a few pictures taken post surgery No. 6. So much has happened in such a short time, and I am so lucky I have been able to get back to life and get back to being ME!



Me and Arleen at the NAHS Pink event she hosted in her dorm at Penn State to raise money for breast cancer education, research & awareness. Arleen's mother is a breast cancer survivor, and Arleen, only 19, recently underwent a prophylactic bilateral mastecomy after testing positive for the BRCA gene.



Pumpking picking with Sean! One of our favorite annual "couple" activities! :)



Me on the runway at the inagural "Little Black Dress Goes Pink" fashion show and wine tasting, which was hosted by and raises money for the Pink Zone. The event, held at Seven Mountains Wine Cellars, featured 20-some models, the majority of which are breast cancer survivors. Clothes were provided by N'V boutique in Boalsburg, and our hair and makeup was done by Portfolio Salon, also in Boalsburg. Each model got to wear two outfits. This one was my favorite :)





Me and my sisters-in-law, Julie (left) and Katie at the bris of our nephew in Florida! Seth and Katie's baby was born on Sean's 30th birthday!

 


Me on Halloween (as a cat for like the seventh year in a row!) I think my new "additions" look amazing here ;)




Mr. and Mrs. Miller at Kim and Andrew's beautiful outdoor wedding!




Me with high school juniors and seniors at Bald Eagle Area High School's pink powder puff game to raise money for the PA Breast Cancer Coalition! I was asked to speak with the students before the game to share my experiences. What an honor!



Getting there

Recently I read a post I wrote in Pink and Pearls (I think it was before surgery No. 4) in which I was waiting for a time that I’d no longer be waiting. As you know from reading, so much of my journey has been waiting for the next thing. The next step. The next surgery. The next recovery. The next results. And eventually, I was waiting for a time I’d no longer be waiting, because that meant I was done.

So much of my journey was also counting down. Ten days until the expanders come out. Five days until I’m done with the Bactrim. Three days until I can lift my arms above my head. Twenty-four hours until I can shower. Three days until the drains come out. Three days until the steri-strips are removed. Three months until my next surgery. I didn’t know what it was like to not be waiting, to not be counting down. I couldn’t remember my life before the breast cancer. What is it like to go more than six months without surgery? What was it like to not always be recovering? What was life like before the counting down and the waiting and the next step, and the next step, and the next step?

It tore me up inside and created anxiety and devastation, but through the counting down and the waiting I created a path for myself. I took all of my energy and focused it on the path, the timeline if you will. I hated it, but I forced myself to look forward to the next thing. The next surgery, then the next recovery. While it’s true that my days and my paths were filled with dark clouds and thorns, it was still a path and I still created, with my despair and anxiety, a way for me to keep trudging along. To keep focusing on the NEXT THING. The next surgery. The next test. The next recovery. Repeat: six times. I didn’t want it but I made it happen. I created it. I created that (sometimes) clear vision of where I was going next. I counted down the weeks to the next surgery, and then the weeks until I was “normal” again and then the weeks to the next surgery. I awaited test results, and if you’ve read my “steps” post, you’ll know I matched each recovery aspect with a step towards getting better and better. Bactrim done, steri-strips off, can lift my arms. I used my survival methods to create a timeline of paths and fences. Paths to walk through (often very slowly), and fences to climb over.

Today the fences are gone. There’s nothing left on the path. My surgeries are complete. I am finally left with the final result. The breast cancer is gone and I don’t fear its recurrence, in either side. Now, today, finally, I have reached the six words: the breast cancer is behind me.

And I am mentally healing as well as physically. Mentally, I am not thinking about cancer every waking moment of my life. Mentally, I am not afraid to take a shower. Mentally, I feel that I conquered the breast cancer. Mentally, I feel it is gone and not coming back. Physically, I have been running, lifting weights and biking. Physically I sleep on both sides, and am working on my stomach. Physically, it doesn’t hurt to take deep breaths. Physically, I am so happy with my results. And both physically and mentally, I can look in the mirror and feel whole. I feel like a woman. I feel complete. I feel like ME. (just a little bit enhanced.)

Now, as I reshuffle, I must find new paths. Life is moving forward very quickly. Good things and plans are blossoming. I am moving PAST all this. I am whole and I am satisfied and I am healthy and I am moving forward. I just feel a little unsettled that all of a sudden, I don’t have those paths and fences. I’m not counting down or waiting. I’m not waiting or counting down. I am just living. I am just BEING. But I did this. I let myself get to this place. I let myself heal and I let myself recover and I came out stronger and better (and with a bigger cup size!). I let myself get past all this, and I let myself move forward. I am not the breast cancer anymore, and the breast cancer isn’t me. I’ll always be a survivor. A Leukemia survivor and a breast cancer survivor. But I’m also a survivor of other things.

It’s weird to feel done. It’s weird to not be waiting or counting down. It’s weird to know I won’t be cut up again and won’t have to heal again. It’s weird to know that the breasts I have now, are the ones I’ll pretty much always have. I waited for this day where I could just BE. And now it’s here. And I have to learn all over again what that means. But that’s OK. I can do it. I’m really, really good at “getting there.”

Marjie's Tips for Happiness and Health (repost)

I was reading through old blog posts and came across this one. It might just be me because I wrote it, but parts of this list are REALLY funny. I can't believe it's been nearly a year since I made this list. I am happy to report I still love it, and I think it still applies to daily life. Read and enjoy!
Love,
Marjie

(Originally published Dec. 7, 2011)

Marjie's Tips for Happiness and Health:

1. Eat an apple a day. Really. One a day. And educate yourself about apples so when people ask what kind of apple you're eating, you can reply accordingly: Red Delicious, Granny Smith, Gala, Honeycrisp, etc. And learn the difference in the supermarket, too.
2. Paint your nails according to your mood, not the season.
3. Drink coffee. The bigger the mug, the better. And find a favorite brand, whether it's Starbucks, Maxwell House or Arbuckle's. When making your own coffee, always, always smell the grinds before putting them in. It helps with the "experience."
4. Watch TV shows that inspire you. For me, it's Fashion Hunters and Selling New York.
5. Wear a vintage brooch. And then talk about its "vintage-ness."
6. Eat chocolate. In moderation, and slowly.
7. Floss thoroughly. (Especially after No. 1 on this list)
8. Name your car and talk to it. Tell it if you're proud of it. For example, I always tell my '96 Corolla, Sylvester, if I'm proud of him for getting up the mountain on the way home from work. (He's old and worn out so he needs the motivation and support.) It's OK for your car to have middle and last names, too. Mine, since I got him at age 17: Sylvester Harrison Stromberg Pie. I call him Sylvie for short, but he doesn't like that because it sounds like a girl's name.
9. Talk to your plants and flowers when you water them. It's good for them, and it's good for you.
10. You don't have to wait until New Years Eve to wear glitter and sequins.
11. Make plans with friends, even if it's just a simple coffee date. Fill your calendar with things you'll look forward to.
12. Plan a party and then get a little stressed out about it. Just a little, though.
13. Read blogs that are of interest to you, even if it's a little weird. My favorite blogs are about vintage clothing, chocolate and home decor. Bird-watching blog OK.
14. Foods high in protein go a long way: non-fat Greek Yogurt and a handful of nuts.
15. Drink hot tea while curled up in a fleece blanket. It's really the best way to drink hot tea.
16. Say "hi" to animals as you pass by them, even if you're in your car and they can't hear you. (Cows and dogs appropriate.)
17. Plan your outfits for upcoming events in advance so you're not in a frenzy finding something to wear. There's nothing more stressful, really. Events in which you know your picture will be taken require more in-depth outfit planning.
18. With things that make your blood boil, such as someone tailgating you while driving, take a deep breath and remember: there's much more to life than this. I'm not going to waste my energy getting angry. And then pretend the @#$%^&-ass in the car behind you is a cute bunny wearing an Argyle sweater vest, and you can't be mad at a cute bunny with a sweater vest!
19. Tweet. Tweet like people care.
20. Put up pictures and cards around your house: on your refrigerator, dresser and desk, to remind yourself daily of the wonderful life you have and the wonderful people in it.
21. Worry less about what others think, especially if you're being true to yourself.
22. Hot pink leggings are acceptable for lounging, even if you're 26. (And for insurance, I'll say it's acceptable even when you're 27 so this list still applies to me two weeks from now.)
23. Own themed socks with things on them, and then wear them accordingly. For example, I wear my Betsey Johnson socks when I'm in a really good mood or have something important coming up, my Hanukkah socks during Hanukkah, Valentine's Day during Valentine's Day, etc., and anything with animals or coffee cups on them when I'm lounging around the house. That way I can see them all the time, as they aren't hidden by shoes.
24. Go all out in fashion, all the time. In other words, if you want to wear glitter heels to work, do it. If you want to wear bright red lipstick to CVS, do it. Life is too short to let your shoes and your lipstick just sit there and rot. Get yo' money's worth!
25. Google images of your favorite animal. To cheer myself up I Google pictures of Samoyeds.
26. Watch old TV shows that you enjoy, but are not "trendy" anymore. Ones that people routinely make fun of are even better. Laverne & Shirley, Little House on the Prairie, Designing Women, Who's the Boss and Veronica's Closet are some of mine.
27. Drink lots and lots and lots of water. Most importantly: a glass when you first wake up in the morning, a glass before each meal, and a glass before bed, unless you're a tinkler at night.
28. Exfoliate daily. And then moisturize.
29. Buy and use a candle that makes you hungry when you smell it.
30. MAKE YOUR OWN LIST!

Reshuffling: part 2

Although everything I wrote in my “reshuffling: part 1” post rings true, I have been dealing with just that – reshuffling. Yes, I am happy and relieved my surgeries are finally, finally over. I am happy and relieved my body is back and I’m living my life again. I am happy and relieved my pain is slowly getting better each day. Blessed. Thankful. I am happy and relieved I truly believe I am done with the breast cancer. I am happy and relieved I have WON my battle. I am happy and relieved I am moving on.
But for so long that wasn’t the case. From April 2011 until now my life has been a whirlwind of the scary and devastating. The traumatic and the life-changing. I got engaged, then got diagnosed with breast cancer, then underwent SIX surgeries, and in between those I was diagnosed with Li Fraumeni Syndrome, and in between all that I fought every day to find my place in my own life. I was lost. I was a snail in a whirlpool. I was trudging through thorns. I couldn’t see the end. Because every time I saw the end there was something else. Another shoe dropped. There was another surgery. Another cancer scare. More life-changing news. All I wanted was to plan my wedding and get to my wedding and get married and move on. I wanted to be a normal bride and a normal woman and a normal 27-year-old. Every day from April 2011 until recently was a challenge. Just to live, to breathe, to move. So much happened in such a short period of time. If I wasn’t putting all of my energy and anxiety into my wedding planning, I was putting all of my energy and anxiety into preparing for my next surgery, or recovering from my next surgery, or beginning physical therapy all over again. Or starting all over again to lift my arms above my head, or making sure my scars were healing or making sure I wasn’t hurting myself or making sure I was stretching every night before bed or making sure my prosthetic was already in my bra the night before or making sure I had enough clean, comfortable sports bras or making sure I was OK during my saline expansions or making sure I had enough Ativan to help with my muscle spasms during those expansions. Or I was trying to find myself and my femininity after one breast was taken from me, and then the other. Or making sure my wedding dress would still fit with only one breast. Or wondering if I would get married or how much pain I would be on my wedding day, or how I was supposed to go to work or if I would get cancer again or if I would get cancer again before my wedding. IT WAS EXHAUSTING. If you’ve been reading Pink and Pearls from the beginning, you know all of this. You have followed along with every post. Every anxiety, every worry, every morning I couldn’t get out of bed, every day I doubted myself and my life and my health, every moment I wanted my life back, every minute I was SO SICK of having surgery and recovering from surgery and living in pain. You know it all. You were there. And I thank you for that. And I thank me for that, because without all of that I wouldn’t be as strong as I am today. And I wouldn’t have won. It was exhausting. But that worry and anxiety gave me a sense of control. It kept my grounded and it kept me fighting and it brought me to the end. It was exhausting and it was devastating and it was traumatic and it was heart-wrenching. But I wouldn’t take any of it back and I wouldn’t take any of it away. It brought me to the end.
And now. All of that is over. And I figured out yesterday after my session with Dr. Kelly that I am reshuffling. For so long I had 100,000 outlets to put my anger and my frustration and my worry and my anxiety and my CONTROL. From the breast cancer to my wedding to my surgeries to my Li Fraumeni Syndrome. I put all of my energy, everything I had, into those things. And while it’s amazing and I am blessed to not have most of those things anymore, I find myself a little confused. A little “floaty.” A little bit ungrounded. Like, I don’t know where to put all of ME. It’s funny that now that those outlets for control are for the most part gone, I feel less in control. And Dr. Kelly said this was normal, and this “stage” in my recovery is actually right on track. I’m recovering from my final surgery, and pretty much back to normal. The wedding and honeymoon are over. My breast cancer is gone and my six surgeries are complete and were a success. And the Li Fraumeni Syndrome, while always there (and will pose NEW problems and stresses when it comes time to talk about having kids), is under control. I’ve been going to the doctor and getting screenings and I feel like I am in control of my monitoring. Those things are over. And I don’t know what to do.
Not that it’s a bad thing. It’s actually just the opposite. My life is ACTUALLY getting back to normal and I’m actually not dealing every day with breast cancer. My body is not in knots, my life is not a balloon filled with marbles. I feel level. And that is scary.
And that is OK. I am reshuffling. It’s OK to reshuffle. I’ve got to find my ground again. And I’m OK with that. I’ve learned that each new life change presents another change, and within that, more challenges, most unforeseen. But if I know anything it’s that I can overcome a challenge.
So right now I’m reshuffling. I’m having trouble finding control and having trouble finding places to PUT my control and anxiety. But now that I know it’s OK what I’m going through, and it’s normal to “reshuffle” after everything I’ve been through the past year and a half, I can be patient. I can let myself find parts of myself again. I never thought I’d feel done. And now that I do, I’m not sure where to go.