My planner. This is an unbusy week. I should take another one next week so you all can see typical. I also forgot to write a bunch in this week because of being at my Mom's over the weekend.
Is tired a disease? Because I feel like I can't shake it.
Jan 12, 2011
12/365
My planner. This is an unbusy week. I should take another one next week so you all can see typical. I also forgot to write a bunch in this week because of being at my Mom's over the weekend.
Is tired a disease? Because I feel like I can't shake it.
Jan 11, 2011
8,9,10 and 11/365
A replica of one of my Mom's tattoos.
Our beautiful mountains. It looks like a painting, right? I'll miss these.
No explanation really. A cop-out picture, taken while I was panting on the treadmill.
Me. And I look like a ghost. And I even edited this one to make my skin a little more warm. It was a day of big hair and crazy eyes apparently, and I posted it to facebook as a joke (because I have no makeup on) and I ended up getting complimented. Funny shit.
Jan 9, 2011
Breath
Tomorrow I will catch up on my 365. I'm not giving up one week in. My Mom came out of surgery, which is good. The cancer is everywhere, which is bad. We're supposed to focus on the good though.
It's really difficult for me, to have hope. Not that I don't, I absolutely do. However, I can't live on blind hope and faith. I just can't. I need information, a plan, every detail possible. I need to know the absolute worse thing to plan for and the absolute best thing to hope and work for. I need bad news before good news, or I don't believe the good news. And people give me a lot of shit for it. I am a practical person.
I have a will. It is not for possessions, but for guardianship for Emmy if something happens to me. However, there are possessions listed on it as well just so avoid anything in the case of my unlikely death. I have this done not because I am morbid, but because it is safe, wise and right to have it done. The two people I have listed in this document each have a copy of it, just in case. I carry info in my wallet, just in case. I have a living will that needs to be updated, just in case. I'm a big believer in Just In Case. It is how I live. I do this because having all my Just-In-Cases in a row, sitting pretty in the front of my file cabinet, ahead of the credit info and my utility bills because it enables me to live more freely. I don't have to worry that I haven't taken care of something. I'm not always on the lookout.
I'm saying all of this because I don't like when people think less of me because I'm a person that makes awkward jokes at inopportune times, trying for a room full of laughter rather than a room full of people nervously wringing their hands. Why, if I'm doing it wrong and they're doing it right with their hope and their positive energy (which people assume I have none of), am I the one that is positive, ok, happy and hopeful? Why are they the ones with teary eyes and grim faces, accidentally reading spanish versions of magazines or staring at one page in a book? It's not that I get off on distraction or that I'm knocking anyone's version of grieving or worrying. Lord knows, and you all probably do too, that I am a WORRIER. I worry about everyone and everything. But, it's why I'm a just-in-caser as well.
I don't know where this post is going. I don't. I know that I'm drowning a bit in all of this thought and that I'm stoked my Mom is out of surgery, moving a foot forward in her life. I'm happy that I have great friends, old and new. I'm happy that I have a life I love, and that I am building a life I'll love even more.
the end.
It's really difficult for me, to have hope. Not that I don't, I absolutely do. However, I can't live on blind hope and faith. I just can't. I need information, a plan, every detail possible. I need to know the absolute worse thing to plan for and the absolute best thing to hope and work for. I need bad news before good news, or I don't believe the good news. And people give me a lot of shit for it. I am a practical person.
I have a will. It is not for possessions, but for guardianship for Emmy if something happens to me. However, there are possessions listed on it as well just so avoid anything in the case of my unlikely death. I have this done not because I am morbid, but because it is safe, wise and right to have it done. The two people I have listed in this document each have a copy of it, just in case. I carry info in my wallet, just in case. I have a living will that needs to be updated, just in case. I'm a big believer in Just In Case. It is how I live. I do this because having all my Just-In-Cases in a row, sitting pretty in the front of my file cabinet, ahead of the credit info and my utility bills because it enables me to live more freely. I don't have to worry that I haven't taken care of something. I'm not always on the lookout.
I'm saying all of this because I don't like when people think less of me because I'm a person that makes awkward jokes at inopportune times, trying for a room full of laughter rather than a room full of people nervously wringing their hands. Why, if I'm doing it wrong and they're doing it right with their hope and their positive energy (which people assume I have none of), am I the one that is positive, ok, happy and hopeful? Why are they the ones with teary eyes and grim faces, accidentally reading spanish versions of magazines or staring at one page in a book? It's not that I get off on distraction or that I'm knocking anyone's version of grieving or worrying. Lord knows, and you all probably do too, that I am a WORRIER. I worry about everyone and everything. But, it's why I'm a just-in-caser as well.
I don't know where this post is going. I don't. I know that I'm drowning a bit in all of this thought and that I'm stoked my Mom is out of surgery, moving a foot forward in her life. I'm happy that I have great friends, old and new. I'm happy that I have a life I love, and that I am building a life I'll love even more.
the end.
Jan 7, 2011
7/365
I'm in Phoenix at a hospital. My Mom is on a table having surgery. I can't really talk about it. This was on the drive here. A moment of beauty that lasted the entirety of the drive. Every time I think about how much I hate this God-forsaken state I see the sky and remember that He has not actually forsaken it. I didn't edit this photo, at all, before uploading it.
Right before my Mom went in to surgery. Emily's fingers, clasped tightly around her Grandmother's.
Send some good vibes in this direction. We need them!
6/365
A day late, and for that I apologize! This is the pot I was cooking the kids' lunch in, on an electric range. Pretty.
Jan 5, 2011
La Casa Pateeta
I haven't mentioned La Casa Pateeta in a long time. Pateeta is my Mom, and she has been fighting stage 3c ovarian cancer for a little under two years. The fight is getting harder.
I don't know how to write about it or talk about it. The problem is that I'm not the type that breaks down, ever. I break down maybe once every year or two, privately, in my shower. Other than that, I'm a do-er, a planner, a get-things-done-er. And that is how I handle things. I get accused of being tactless (which I kind of am), morbid, detached, and many other things depending on the situation. This one? People that matter haven't accused me of anything. Which is good.
She's in the hospital right now, again, and I'm actually scared. I'm twenty-four. I'm scared that my Mom is going to die, that I haven't learned the things I should have yet. I'm scared that my body is going to be attacked by the same killers that have attacked hers, and I'm even more scared because countless doctors have told me that I'm "too young to worry." I'm scared that I will lose my family if she goes, because she's the connector. I'm scared that my not-so-little brother will slip through some sort of crack and will not be the man he has the potential to be. I'm scared that this event will negatively shape him, and I'm scared that this same event might shape my daughter.
I'm sad, too. Sad that my Mom hasn't been the same person consistently for over a year. I'm sad that she's hurting, that there are doctors swarming around her with different opinions and inconclusive results and I'm sad that my Grandma is watching her daughter's body be eaten by cancer, that my Uncle and Aunt are watching their sister change, that my baby knows what sickness is at the age of four.
Beyond these things though, I'm proud and I'm grateful and I'm happy. I'm happy that I've gotten to say to my Mom the things that everyone needs to say to their loved ones: This is why I'm angry with you. This is why I resent you. This is why I love you. These are my favorite things about you. You have a piece of me that no one else can claim. This disease, this cancer, has taken away a lot of good things. But it's also taken away the human shield that people put up for some reason to protect each other from honesty. As a blunt and tactless person, I hate being protected from honesty in personal life, professional life, political life, and all other areas. This disease has forced me to figure out what is important to me.
I'm sitting here hoping for the best. I'm hoping that her GI doctor can give us some good news tomorrow after a test she has to do. I'm hoping he can say that he has a non-invasive solution that will not dramatically alter her life with the addition of tubes or bags or heavy anesthesia. I'm hoping that that's the call I get tomorrow afternoon, that a pill will fix her pain and enable her to go forward with a clinical trial she's set up for. And hope, really, is what we have as humans. Hope, love, honesty, communication. These are the cornerstones of who I am, of those that I have chosen to be in my life. These things are tools my Mom gave me and somehow cultivated through many years of turmoil.
We all know I suck at conclusions.
I don't know how to write about it or talk about it. The problem is that I'm not the type that breaks down, ever. I break down maybe once every year or two, privately, in my shower. Other than that, I'm a do-er, a planner, a get-things-done-er. And that is how I handle things. I get accused of being tactless (which I kind of am), morbid, detached, and many other things depending on the situation. This one? People that matter haven't accused me of anything. Which is good.
She's in the hospital right now, again, and I'm actually scared. I'm twenty-four. I'm scared that my Mom is going to die, that I haven't learned the things I should have yet. I'm scared that my body is going to be attacked by the same killers that have attacked hers, and I'm even more scared because countless doctors have told me that I'm "too young to worry." I'm scared that I will lose my family if she goes, because she's the connector. I'm scared that my not-so-little brother will slip through some sort of crack and will not be the man he has the potential to be. I'm scared that this event will negatively shape him, and I'm scared that this same event might shape my daughter.
I'm sad, too. Sad that my Mom hasn't been the same person consistently for over a year. I'm sad that she's hurting, that there are doctors swarming around her with different opinions and inconclusive results and I'm sad that my Grandma is watching her daughter's body be eaten by cancer, that my Uncle and Aunt are watching their sister change, that my baby knows what sickness is at the age of four.
Beyond these things though, I'm proud and I'm grateful and I'm happy. I'm happy that I've gotten to say to my Mom the things that everyone needs to say to their loved ones: This is why I'm angry with you. This is why I resent you. This is why I love you. These are my favorite things about you. You have a piece of me that no one else can claim. This disease, this cancer, has taken away a lot of good things. But it's also taken away the human shield that people put up for some reason to protect each other from honesty. As a blunt and tactless person, I hate being protected from honesty in personal life, professional life, political life, and all other areas. This disease has forced me to figure out what is important to me.
I'm sitting here hoping for the best. I'm hoping that her GI doctor can give us some good news tomorrow after a test she has to do. I'm hoping he can say that he has a non-invasive solution that will not dramatically alter her life with the addition of tubes or bags or heavy anesthesia. I'm hoping that that's the call I get tomorrow afternoon, that a pill will fix her pain and enable her to go forward with a clinical trial she's set up for. And hope, really, is what we have as humans. Hope, love, honesty, communication. These are the cornerstones of who I am, of those that I have chosen to be in my life. These things are tools my Mom gave me and somehow cultivated through many years of turmoil.
We all know I suck at conclusions.
Jan 4, 2011
4/365
I laced up again today and was sorely disapointed in myself. Taking time off to make my knee feel better and to enjoy the holidays has taken a severe toll on my running time. I'm not a runner, by any means. But I had gotten up to three miles in about 40/45 minutes. Today was two miles, switching between running and walking on an incline, in 33 minutes. It's about calories, not distance or time.
Back to work for me :)
Jan 3, 2011
3/365
Today we met at Barnes & Noble with the little boy I watch (from here on out, Ninja) and his Mom. Ninja, aged twenty months, is into everything of course. Emmy, almost five and ever the princess, was calm while I looked around and then asked if she could go play with the trains.
I always see pictures of children on the internet that are dressed with whimsy and envy the parents whose children have such creativity. While in my heart I am a dressed up woman, we are jeans and t-shirt people. I took this today and realized that Emmy is NOT a jeans and t-shirt girl. While the majority of her clothes are one or the other, she is an ACCESSORIES girl. In this picture you cannot see her snowman pin with dangly legs, her several bracelets or the carefully chosen necklace from one Aunt Gigi.
Emily knows what she's doing. She asked me today, "Mama, can you not look so boring? I'm fancy and I want you to wear your fancy coat."
Jan 2, 2011
Jan 1, 2011
1/365 - Winter in Orange
This is a plant I have that I love to pieces. It thrived for a very long time and then got trunk rot. I have been trying to salvage it for about a year (funny, actually, that the plant's struggle and demise correspond to my lack of writing) and it is finally showing small signs of fresh life. I can't give up on it.
Also, my living room is lit by orange paper lanterns and I love the glow it gives off.
Project 365
Hello world, she's back. My last post was about ten months ago, and that will be changing today or I am just going to delete this. I don't do resolutions, and I don't do promises. I do, however, do goals. I have quite a few for my life (because that's how I do them... I can't just have a goal for a year and be satisfied) which will be discussed throughout this year, I'm sure.
One of those goals is something I haven't tried before. It is to begin, do and complete a Project 365. I've seen them done in other forums, but have never seen one completed by anyone I know personally. A friend of mine, one Randi Sue that I have been fortunate enough to meet in person, is beginning one in her blog for this year and I'm following suit to begin one as well.
I don't have a great camera, and I don't have a lot of time. I do have some technique but I won't be able to show that here. Maybe next year I can try to hone some skillz (yes, with a "z"), but this year, I just want proof that I'm living. Because despite evidence to the contrary, I am.
One of those goals is something I haven't tried before. It is to begin, do and complete a Project 365. I've seen them done in other forums, but have never seen one completed by anyone I know personally. A friend of mine, one Randi Sue that I have been fortunate enough to meet in person, is beginning one in her blog for this year and I'm following suit to begin one as well.
I don't have a great camera, and I don't have a lot of time. I do have some technique but I won't be able to show that here. Maybe next year I can try to hone some skillz (yes, with a "z"), but this year, I just want proof that I'm living. Because despite evidence to the contrary, I am.
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