Before the Other Shoe Drops
Tomorrow starts some unabashed relaxing and releasing. I want to put the phone away. Stay away from all social media for several days. See if I can remember how to enjoy life without checking my phone every few hours.
I realize that the term every few hours already puts me in old fogey territory. From what I have seen, most people, usually millennials, check their phones every few minutes.
Still. It bothers me that I check so often. Really. If someone needs me, I am a phone call away. I don't need to have that thing attached to my body at all times. Or check it. If it doesn't ring, I'm good. As of tomorrow, all sound goes off that thang for four days. It can vibrate in an emergency.
I am going to avoid news. I am so fucking sick of Donald Trump that I could scream. If he isn't incessantly tweeting, he is skipping around causing bedlam like some ignored bratty child. I can't tell you how many times I've wished that the news media would just not show up to record his every inane utterance. I said as much to T. She responded with: You do know that he will start World War lll if he doesn't get attention, don't you?
A rock and a hard place.
I start my big guns chemo on Friday. My fifth wedding anniversary. Yesterday, my oncologist sent me a video about what to expect. It sure sounds like something I would rather not participate in, but like Emily Dickinson, no coward's soul is mine....so on Friday, I will start it up. Again. Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead. Or at least until I hit a wall. But, that is Friday.
Until then, there are distractions. Good ones. Long, long delayed adventures. My heart is aching for peace, rest, a little fun. Water. Warmth. A wand. And I fucking deserve it.
Last night, we celebrated the full moon by giving the fae in our tree some homemade hooch made by a good friend. We tried it, too. I can only say that homemade hooch is truly delicious. Even T liked it and she thinks all liquor tastes like cough syrup. We added more decorations to the Hawthorne tree. Sparkly, twirly ones.
We went to bed....not sloshed....we are far too elderly for that kind of shenanigans. But, I fell asleep the moment my head hit the pillow. I woke up around 2 a.m....chasing some dream. Do you ever do that? Wake up and you can feel the edges of that dream and your fingers are almost almost almost touching it....and it is like trying to grab smoke. But, I felt content. And the last thing I remember is being hugged. It was sweet and the feeling stayed with me as I lay there in my sleepy dozy state. Usually when I wake up like this, I drift from softness into a sort of stiff fear. There is that small, sharp cancer sitting right in the middle of my chest. It taunts my fear into wakefulness. This time...well, it was different. I felt the cancer, sure. It is there: I can't pretend it away. But, this time, I took the hug that I was dreaming and I extended it to the cancer. Told it that I knew it was there. I knew it was toxic. I knew it would kill me. But, that I understood. It wasn't personal. It was just...this...thing. This thing that is my Voldemort. And instead of feeling anger or fear, I felt....nothing. Acceptance. So be it. I will try to stop you. You will try to grow. I will hold you back for as long as I can and then....I will let go and let you have the body.
The soul is mine, though. And, the older I get...the more I like this soul of mine. It has been through a lot, good and bad. It has had a wonderful life and some terrible news. It has stood up to evil but also made some pretty stupid turns. It has been an incredible mother and a terrible friend. It has eaten too much cake and gone the extra mile when it didn't have to do so. Like most souls...it has variance. But, as I said, I like this soul. So much. So, I am ready. Well, at least now. This could all change tomorrow. Life is like that. One minute you have a good handle on it. The next, you wonder what the hell you were thinking. Still...
I wish you all a Merry Christmas. Don't let the bastards get you down.
I realize that the term every few hours already puts me in old fogey territory. From what I have seen, most people, usually millennials, check their phones every few minutes.
Still. It bothers me that I check so often. Really. If someone needs me, I am a phone call away. I don't need to have that thing attached to my body at all times. Or check it. If it doesn't ring, I'm good. As of tomorrow, all sound goes off that thang for four days. It can vibrate in an emergency.
I am going to avoid news. I am so fucking sick of Donald Trump that I could scream. If he isn't incessantly tweeting, he is skipping around causing bedlam like some ignored bratty child. I can't tell you how many times I've wished that the news media would just not show up to record his every inane utterance. I said as much to T. She responded with: You do know that he will start World War lll if he doesn't get attention, don't you?
A rock and a hard place.
I start my big guns chemo on Friday. My fifth wedding anniversary. Yesterday, my oncologist sent me a video about what to expect. It sure sounds like something I would rather not participate in, but like Emily Dickinson, no coward's soul is mine....so on Friday, I will start it up. Again. Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead. Or at least until I hit a wall. But, that is Friday.
Until then, there are distractions. Good ones. Long, long delayed adventures. My heart is aching for peace, rest, a little fun. Water. Warmth. A wand. And I fucking deserve it.
Last night, we celebrated the full moon by giving the fae in our tree some homemade hooch made by a good friend. We tried it, too. I can only say that homemade hooch is truly delicious. Even T liked it and she thinks all liquor tastes like cough syrup. We added more decorations to the Hawthorne tree. Sparkly, twirly ones.
We went to bed....not sloshed....we are far too elderly for that kind of shenanigans. But, I fell asleep the moment my head hit the pillow. I woke up around 2 a.m....chasing some dream. Do you ever do that? Wake up and you can feel the edges of that dream and your fingers are almost almost almost touching it....and it is like trying to grab smoke. But, I felt content. And the last thing I remember is being hugged. It was sweet and the feeling stayed with me as I lay there in my sleepy dozy state. Usually when I wake up like this, I drift from softness into a sort of stiff fear. There is that small, sharp cancer sitting right in the middle of my chest. It taunts my fear into wakefulness. This time...well, it was different. I felt the cancer, sure. It is there: I can't pretend it away. But, this time, I took the hug that I was dreaming and I extended it to the cancer. Told it that I knew it was there. I knew it was toxic. I knew it would kill me. But, that I understood. It wasn't personal. It was just...this...thing. This thing that is my Voldemort. And instead of feeling anger or fear, I felt....nothing. Acceptance. So be it. I will try to stop you. You will try to grow. I will hold you back for as long as I can and then....I will let go and let you have the body.
The soul is mine, though. And, the older I get...the more I like this soul of mine. It has been through a lot, good and bad. It has had a wonderful life and some terrible news. It has stood up to evil but also made some pretty stupid turns. It has been an incredible mother and a terrible friend. It has eaten too much cake and gone the extra mile when it didn't have to do so. Like most souls...it has variance. But, as I said, I like this soul. So much. So, I am ready. Well, at least now. This could all change tomorrow. Life is like that. One minute you have a good handle on it. The next, you wonder what the hell you were thinking. Still...
I wish you all a Merry Christmas. Don't let the bastards get you down.
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