Committing to the Hat

One thing that drives me crazy lately is wearing a hat. It is winter and hat wearing weather. On the pro side, it keeps me toasty warm. I am a fan of toasty warm. On the con side, taking off the hat usually shifts my wig. It has to be done carefully. One hand has to glide up past my forehead and underneath said hat. It rests between the hat and my hair, anchoring it in place. It doesn’t always work. It has become one of many extra processes in my life. It makes me feel self-conscious. I am not a fan of self-conscious.

When I put on a hat, I have to really commit to the hat. You see, I may have it on for a while. Even if I get hot, I don’t feel like I can easily take it off without possibly drawing attention to myself. The reality is probably no one is looking at me. But there’s still the self-conscious thing.

Committing to the hat is just one more thing I have to do. It’s one of the behind the scene consequences of living with cancer. Others include my independent pharmacy of mostly supplements that I ingest several times a day that I believe help me, neupogen injections every weekend to boost white cell counts, feeling anxious about many social situations, not knowing how I’ll feel when I wake up, and juggling an ever-changing schedule of appointments and such.

Committing in general has been up in the air over the past several years. Everything is more uncertain. Maybe that’s why the hat is harder to wear.

Ironically, I need to commit to uncertainty.

A hat seems like such a small thing. But it’s a small thing over which I would rather exercise some control. Control is a big thing for a lot of people. Some try to control other people through a position where they do not know how to be a successful leader. We can’t control how others respond. Ineffective leaders are met with lack of respect and people who undermine them in order to do what is needed. People who seek to manipulate in relationships are still alone inside. Others try to control themselves through self-destructive acts. Yes, we are responsible for our choices. A decision to inflict hurt on yourself is not within your control or a choice. It is the polar opposite of self-love. I have come across a few people in my life who have struggled with self-love. I can’t control them. I can show up for them with love, friendship, and support.

The hat is also about control– my need for control over something where I don’t have it. I’ve really not had much control since diagnosis.

Anyone have a hat for that?

Uncertainty and lack of control go together like chocolate and peanut butter.

Chocolate and peanut butter are better.

I’d love to pal around in a vintage hat of the 1920s, go back in time, and meet my grandma when she was younger. It would have to be a special time traveling hat. We’d be friends. I imagine meeting at what was known back in the day as Stevens Point Normal School where she went for teaching certification. I’d love to see her passion of one of our shared interests and how her youth and experiences shaped the years when I knew her.

I don’t care for the cancer hats, the kinds that are knitted or ordered through cancer magazines and online. This includes bandanas and scarves. They all are just so obvious. When I wore those years ago, I was fine with them, both physically and emotionally comfortable. It was too bad if others had a problem seeing me that way. Now, they are more of a reminder of loss. I am very aware of my losses and don’t need visual reminders. I am not some sort of public service announcement either. The cancer hat I wear is invisible, but it is part of that uncertainty and lack of control.

In fact, I still don’t know how to refer to myself. You think I would after nearly seven years. Am I a survivor? A thriver? The survivor label is used for someone who has been treated for cancer and thought to be cancer free. The thriver label is used to distinguish those who will never be thought of as survivors . . . yet. I’m not sure where this began. Perhaps it was well-intentioned. Perhaps it was designed out of need to give some of that sought after control back to people’s lives. However, there is even some discomfort within the cancer community itself with the term. As a result of that discomfort, sometimes thrivers are not included in discussions or are isolated into their own group because there is worry they will scare others, not have any similar needs in common with survivors, and be of no help. Abigail Johnston explains it better in her blog post Early Stagers vs. Metastatic Patients. Take a moment to read it!

Right now, I think I can wear both those hats. I’m surviving and thriving. Maybe I’m a driver (for change), a striver (for health), a troublemaking conniver (just because). I’m definitely feeling a Lin-Manuel vibe. At the same time, I really don’t like being labeled. Just let me be me.

And there it is . . . the reason I don’t know how to refer to myself.

Just let me be me.

Don’t call me anything. What bothers me is others who want to tell me what I am. Some are very firm about it. We’re all different. The survivor hat may not work for one person, but work really well for someone else.

If I could choose a hat, I would choose a sun hat. I can pull off a wide-brimmed sun hat and wear it well. I like that because with proper sunshades I can people watch (stare at people) and no one knows that’s what I’m doing (until now). Keeping cool in the hot sun is a priority, too. My fair complexion freckles and I burn easily. I must do what I can to remain youthful looking. Medications also require avoiding time in direct sun.

My favorite hat is a cream wool winter hat I used to wear with the brim flipped up. I guess it’s called a bucket hat (think Paddington Bear). I wore it during a golden time when all was well in my life. It looked cute on me. I had no problems committing to that hat. It was functional, attractive, and easy to wear. Stylistically, it was very simple and matched with many of my coats. My life was also much simpler when I wore it, but I’m sure I didn’t realize it because I didn’t know what I know now.

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Are there any positives to committing to the hat?

People who have let go of control seem to be happier. You can love and accept things as they are without a need to fix something. Surrendering control may present opportunities to relax. You may find you get what you need. Controlling less and doing less may give you more. Committing to the hat, committing to uncertainty, can help a person commit to more freedom. Spontaneity can take pressure off from a lot of choices. Do you want to know something? When I started this paragraph, I really didn’t think I was going to find a way to reframe this hat thing in a positive way. Anything is possible.

Committing to freedom, to relaxing, to ultimately receiving more of what I need all sound a lot better than wearing uncertainty day after day after day.

I know for everyone else wearing a hat doesn’t cause a second thought. It shouldn’t. Well, maybe it should cause pause for some folks because there are people who adorn some very questionable hat choices in my book. Remember though, it isn’t really about the hat. One last thing the hat is about is recognizing that there are things people do that aren’t visible on the surface. Everyone has these. Everyone has uncertainty. Everyone just wants to have the comfort of a hat that fits really well. My favorite cream hat calls.

 

Laughter As Medicine

“The earth laughs in flowers.” ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

We need friends and laughter like we need sunshine, rain, and flowers. Today’s post combines all of these.

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My friends are beautiful flowers who fill the world with laughter. Sometimes we laugh together and other times we laugh at one another.

Some of my friends are comical without trying. Fran is one such friend. I spent a lovely day with her and another dear friend Gayle at a garden last summer. Both make the earth laugh in flowers. Being together at a garden was a perfect choice. It was a beautiful summer day, punctuated with an isolated downpour that was brief but heavy. The three of us had been sitting in a little secluded resting spot, taking a break as we visited. We’d discovered an alcove up a short stone path of a few stairs with three Adirondack chairs positioned just for us. A canopy of green leaves kept us shaded and let just enough light to be filtered through to turn the leaves into shining emeralds. Behind us water gurgled its way in a peaceful stream. Life was but a dream. The setting couldn’t have been more idyllic. Fran regaled us with a humorous story about her mother.

It started to sprinkle and we all figured it would pass over quickly. The trees kept us from getting wet. However, when it didn’t stop in a couple of minutes and was getting worse with every drop, Gayle and I decided we wanted to take cover and headed to a covered shelter we had passed about a minute away at the bottom of the trail. Gayle got there first. I was a bit slower. The stone walkway was getting slick. The raindrops were getting much bigger and frequent, but I couldn’t risk running and slipping. I only had about ten more yards to go. I just made it as the sky let loose with a pounding rain that was worthy of flash flooding. Gayle and I were safe and mostly dry.

Where was Fran? Gayle and I stood and waited. We thought Fran was directly behind us. The shelter filled quickly with others, but no Fran. She couldn’t possibly be waiting it out. Another minute passed and finally there came Fran, slowly making her way down the stone staircase, step by step, toward the shelter. I was glad to see her even though she was already pretty wet. However, at the last moment, Fran darted to her left on a path off to the side. A row of trees blocked her movements. There was nothing in that direction, nowhere to go! What was she doing? I wasn’t going looking for her. Gayle wasn’t either. We were dry.

It’s as close to a Yeti sighting as I’ll ever get. One minute something incredible and unexpected was spotted, and the next minute it was gone with no proof of it ever existing. It’s both a moment frozen and lost forever in time.

I shouted out, “Fran, are you okay?”

Several seconds passed slowly.

“Yes,” came her eventual reply.

She sounded close, but wherever she was, she stayed put. Why?

A couple of minutes later Fran emerged on the path again. It seemed wherever she thought was a refuge, was not a safe haven at all. Sheets of rain showed no sign of relenting. At last she made it to the shelter. Time stood still while she made her way for the final ten or twenty yards. All eyes were on her. It was impossible not to feel sympathy for her. While that was true, it also was impossible not to find it funny. The heavy rain still pelted everything in its way. Gusts of wind blew the rain sideways, and as it happened directly at Fran.

Fran was completely drenched. She could not have been wetter had she been plucked from the ocean after falling overboard. It was so sad, but beyond funny. All I could do was shake my head from side to side as I repeated the word “No” over and over as I laughed unapologetically. It was hard to breathe. Fran stood there wringing out her clothes. Her wardrobe had surprising sponge-like qualities. She dripped. A lot. Fran tried to brush the whole thing off. All the dripping and puddles around her told a different story. Gayle whipped out her phone to capture the moment as a truly good friend naturally would, but didn’t get the shot after all. Such a pity.

Fran never really explained why she wasn’t following us or included a detour in her plans. I’ve never asked for an explanation. Somehow I think it would ruin the story if she explained her perspective. The sun came out, we regrouped at my car where I had some towels, and we moved on with our day.

That Fran.

Laughter really is the best medicine. Antibiotics can also be the best medicine. Laughter isn’t going to combat a bacterial infection. Antibiotics will do the trick there. I believe laughter is going to help in any cancer treatment plan because it will help lift spirits during dark days. But laughter does more than simply boost spirits. Laughing can reduce stress and anxiety. It’s been called a natural anti-depressant. Endorphins are released so you feel good. They even are said to relieve pain. Immune system functioning is heightened. Laughing has been linked to a healthier heart and increased levels of HDL (the good cholesterol). It can even tone your abs and that’s no laughing matter. I can handle less stress and anxiety. Feeling good inside with better immune system functioning while getting the benefits of a free ab workout works for me. All of these are incredibly healthy benefits from laughing.

Flowers do more than add color, fragrance, and beauty to the world. I believe they also have health benefits. “People flowers” make us laugh. They help us heal. I am lucky to have wonderful such flowers in my life. I’m not just keeping them around for my abs. I’m keeping them around because I love them and they are good medicine.

What makes you laugh? Who makes you laugh?

Unringing A Bell

You can’t unring a bell.

Receiving a cancer diagnosis is very much the same. You can’t go back to the way things were even after surgeries, radiation, and treatment are finished, even if you are assured the cancer is gone. The fact remains that you had it. Everything you went through has inherently changed you in some way.

Others may not see it. Physical appearance doesn’t change drastically for many. Family and friends may tell you that you look the same to them. You are still the same you. It’s intended to be reassuring. There is some truth there. (I find it annoying.) To say you look the same on the outside and imply that you are the same on the inside is what some people mean. That is not fair, nor their call. I know of one marriage that ended because a friend’s husband didn’t understand his wife was still dealing with a lot of difficult emotions. She told him, but she looked “just fine” and everything was “done” and needed to get back to “normal” so he couldn’t understand why everything else wasn’t therefore fine by default. Certainly, there could have been other factors to this marriage ending. I know of another marriage that ended because the husband understood there were changes on the inside as well as on the outside, and he wasn’t attracted to the outside any more. What a guy! There could have been other reasons behind this marriage ending, too, but it seems like cancer became the impetus.

Then again others may see it all too well. Somehow a person who has suffered and is somehow different in a good way may be too much for others to accept. They would be very happy to go back to how things used to be in order to feed what they need. This is where disapproval, insults, and being told that YOU have done something wrong come into play as attempts to keep you in a place that works for them. These relationships should end. There is no room for toxic people in a life that has seen its share of toxicity. I personally deal with toxic drugs almost every week in my efforts to stay well. I can’t deal with toxic people or negativity. Whether finished with treatment, currently in treatment, or in ongoing treatment, do not choose to tolerate toxic negativity from any person. Enough. January is a good time to start fresh.

Maybe you feel not much has changed on the outside or the inside. My position is inside changes took place because you grew from what you experienced. Change accompanies growth. Those who don’t like change don’t have as much opportunity for growth. I used to be one of these people and it’s still hard for me. Change is uncertain and often I don’t understand why some things need to change. I’m trying to understand that changes are there to teach me something and I am working to be open to changes. Changes can be new beginnings. January is a good time for these, too. New beginnings after diagnosis and treatment may be a new job, home, or relationship. Maybe you look at life differently, and have reexamined your belief systems or time commitments.

One constant remains: You can never not have had cancer once you’ve had it. That bell was rung.

I’m tired of its clanging and repetition.

I believe you can ring other bells louder so the sounds drown out other bells.

Ring the bell of resiliency.

We are all capable of more than we know. Resilience is another one of those intangible factors that makes people rise up time and time again after tough times. Yes, problems are inevitable. How a person deals with them is what matters. Being resilient means you find a way to continue to thrive even when there are problems. Taking care of yourself is part of being resilient. Physical and emotional self-care are non-negotiable. Exercise, eat well, meditate, find joy. When your outer and inner self are strong, it means another layer of resolve has been added to resiliency that problems cannot break through, whether the problems present themselves as people, situations, or things.

Ring the bell of joy.

Do more of what you love. Have that cookie. Take a day off and do something fun, frivolous, and completely fantastic. No need to justify, or explain, or defend it. For me, I choose to walk trails and be among trees. I sit on my sun porch and listen to birds. I laugh at movies I’ve seen too many times. I call friends or get together with them. I enjoy exercising (usually) and enjoy it even more when I’m done and reaping the benefits.

Have another cookie.

Yes, I know I mentioned that one twice.

Ring the bell of gratitude.

I believe there is a richness and depth in appreciation that gives life both more purpose and meaning. That thing where you think of five things to be grateful for at the end of each day works. Feeling gratitude is easier when you feel healthy. What about when you aren’t feeling well at all? Knowing myself as I do, I know my emotional and physical health does impact what I’m capable of feeling in the gratitude realm. The other night I had one of these moments. It was about twenty-four hours post treatment and I was flushed and hot from the neck up while the rest of me had the chills. I was low energy and felt a little sick. But I knew if I could get to bed and fall asleep that it would pass and tomorrow would be better. That was about all the gratitude I could muster. My point is it was enough. We are human and do the best we can on any given day. That is the space we all share where health status doesn’t matter.

Ring the bell of knowing yourself.

Take whatever time you need. It isn’t selfish to take time for yourself and know what you think. It isn’t selfish to do what is best for you. Live your beliefs. Others don’t have to like them or agree with them. You do. I thought I knew myself pretty darn well before the cancer diagnosis, but it sure caused me to be more deliberate with how I live. I am more sure of myself now than ever, even though I continue to be a magnificent work in progress.

Ring the bell of standing strong.

You may have to keep ringing a lot of bells longer than you had planned until the unwanted bells stop ringing. Keep at it. You’re stronger than naysayers. Statistics do not know you. You’re more than a number. I get tired of bell ringing, but remember that the sounds create important tones and vibrations. These bells make beautiful music.

Nope, you can’t unring a bell. You can’t let anyone else ring it for you either. Ring all the bells you need to ring until you hear a song fit for a carillon tower. Your song.

 

For reflection:

What bells would you like to stop ringing in the new year?

What bells would you like to hear ring more?

Living Hopefully

Superheroes are part of current popular culture. Super human strength, agility, and speed quicker than lightning save cities or planets. Right and might both outwit and outlast villains every time. I like to think of hope as its own superpower. It is its own light in the dark night. Hope calms the inner storm. Hope saves. There are days it takes a beating, but it is never snuffed out. It always resurfaces stronger and brighter. It is also transferable from one person to another which makes it even more powerful. I wish hope could be embodied in some type of physical form where we could call out for it and see it leaping over obstacles in a single bound and knocking out the bad guy. It sure would make life easier. We must do our best to take on that persona ourselves. Superheroes are good examples of what it means to adopt a hopeful lifestyle.

When we live hopefully, we become those superheroes.

Hope by definition doesn’t make you feel doomed. It provides strength and wipes out fear. Hope moves forward. Hope is a Stage V quality. Throw resiliency and toughness in there as Stage V qualities as well. One on its own creates a reaction. The reaction is greater when several of these qualities are combined. Stage V is also a superpower worthy to make a stand against villainous cancer.

Adam Sicinski is a life coach, founder of IQ Matrix in 2009, and has developed over 350 self-growth mind maps. I honestly can’t gush enough about these mind maps. One of his points in  “How To Nurture Hope When Life Starts Getting Really Tough”  is that hope can’t come and go from a person’s life as the need arises for it. Instead, hope is a lifestyle. Hope becomes an integral part of each day. It requires trust and faith in yourself that you can get through tough times and follow through with your actions and plans. He writes when you nurture hope you lessen doubt, anxiety, and stress which alleviates some of the uncertainty while facing these emotions. In turn, your levels of belief rise and you can act in a more positive way despite whatever trouble you face.

Pessimistic thoughts must give way to a sense of certainty. Hope becomes more proactive this way rather than a passive act. More of Adam Sicinski’s ideas follow as to what it means to be a hopeful person.

Living hopefully means . . .

  • You are grateful for the life you have. Even though you are living with gratitude, it does not limit you from seeking out a better life.
  • You want to make things better and look for ways to make your life better. Actions and opportunities pave the way step by step.
  • You will always do your best to make the most of every situation.
  • Every experience has some value. You remain hopeful that things will turn out in your favor.
  • No matter what happens, you maintain a positive outlook.
  • Living in the now. This means that by making the most of today, you increase your chances of making the future you want a reality.
  • You do more than just hope things work out. You work to make it so. Sometimes this means building on past successes and learning from what has happened. Mistakes can be helpful.
  • Living generously. Giving to others often provides a better understanding about your own personal struggles while allowing you to grow toward where you want to be.
  • Looking for opportunities where others can help. You can’t do it all on your own.
  • Ridding yourself of worry and regret. It breeds anxiety, stress, and hopeless thoughts.
  • Surround yourself with positive people. These are not perfect people, but people with a sense of purpose who work through challenges as cheerfully as possible with attitudes that keep them moving forward.

This last idea is really important for me because positive people seem to have many of the other qualities needed for living hopefully already present. We gravitate toward one another and conversations about positivity and hope unfold naturally. I need to surround myself with these people as someone living with cancer. I also need to continue being the person living hopefully.

I also like that Sicinski doesn’t say that nurturing hope means nothing ever goes wrong. A perfect life isn’t realistic. Each of us has a choice as to how we respond to life’s challenges. When mistakes are made or unexpected circumstances are encountered, those who nurture hope will likely see these experiences as opportunities for growth. I think there are many similarities in hope as a lifestyle and being resilient.

A lifestyle that embraces hope involves gratitude, trust, positivity, happiness, and belief. Nurturing hope causes you to reflect a lot on your life and draw upon strengths and resources. These shifts in thoughts and lifestyle apply to anyone who wants to live with a mindset geared toward hope. Hope as a lifestyle also correlates positively with a Stage V lifestyle.

One of my most hopeful times of day is in the predawn of the morning. I’m still in bed, relishing that state of bliss between sleep and awake. It is quiet. In the summer, I can hear birds chirping melodically. When it’s winter, the gentle sound of the furnace is comforting. I feel refreshed and have the whole day stretching out before me. Anything can happen. I like to think about how I see my day unwinding and set a positive intention. Often I just appreciate the stillness and let myself be. Now, I understand mornings aren’t everyone’s best time, but I’m betting you can identify a time of day where you have an abundance of hopeful energy. Maybe it’s during your morning coffee or tea. Maybe you find it while out for a run. It could be much later in the day when you’re driving home from work. The point is to give yourself some time every day to be intentionally hopeful. It takes only a few moments to let gentle hopeful feelings and reminders have a positive impact.

May the coming new year offer many opportunities for living hopefully.

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What are you hoping for this year? What plans have you made to help turn your hopes into something real?

Finding Hope

There are 26 places named Hope in the United States, ranging from Wisconsin to Mississippi, and from Alaska to New York. Hope is on the map in several European countries, and even farther away in Pakistan, South Africa, and New Zealand. There are a total of 50 cities throughout the world named Hope.

But you don’t have to travel to any of them in order to find hope. Likely, you would find some there if you did, because hope is everywhere. You just need to know where to look and be really good at keeping it when you find it.

Hope is plentiful. It can be found in every smile, the water, and in the air. Unfortunately, hope can also be elusive when it’s most needed. Below are ideas of some of the expected and unexpected sources where I have found it. As you read the ideas below, I encourage you to identify a strong example of each that resonates with you.

  • Family: These are the people who know you best and have your best interests at heart. Choose the family members that have always given that unconditional support. My grandma was always a source of comfort and support. I loved holding her wrinkled, beautiful, and amazing hand. She wouldn’t even have to say anything. Just looking at the miracle of a woman in her upper nineties who had lived a remarkable life made me feel hopeful. Memories of her words and actions still echo wisdom, warmth, humor, and hope.
  • Friends: I know some of my friends will be there through thick and thin. When the chips are down, true friends are the ones who show up. I can be myself even if I’m feeling tired, down, unwell, or a little grumpy. They are givers and they lift me up. We have the stupidest jokes that we still think are funny. These are the friends that keep me hopeful.
  • Strangers: How strange! But every once in a while you will cross paths with someone who says exactly what you need to hear at exactly the right time. Family and friends cannot always do this. These strangers come in and out of my life in a flash, but they often say or do something that has a lasting impact. Maybe it’s a tweet I read or a comment I overhear. Perhaps it is something said directly to me. It could even be a small act of random kindness.
  • Faith: Maybe you get hope from going to church, temple, a mosque, or some other physical building. Maybe it’s through prayer, reading scriptures, or through sharing your faith with others. Feeling a spiritual presence creates strong feelings of hope. It’s different for everyone, but I believe we all believe in something, and that something is the faith needed to lift us up when we need help standing.
  • Fitness: I often find my spirits are raised when I’ve gone for a walk or I’ve spent time hiking or biking. When I achieve something that I couldn’t do before, it makes me feel confident, believe in myself, and be more hopeful. I think the endorphin release that goes along with exercise not only contributes to happiness, but also hopefulness. It was an invigorating 27° F the other day and being outside walking really made a positive difference to my day. When I’m happier, I naturally feel more hopeful.
  • Nature: See fitness. But also just being in nature and listening to the stillness or surrounding sounds can make a person feel happier and more hopeful. More and more people are finding health benefits when spending time in nature. These are physical, emotional, and spiritual benefits. Feeling hopeful definitely is part of one’s emotional health. Give me trees!
  • Meditating: Find the best way to meditate for you. It can be completely focusing on your breath in total silence. It can be a guided meditation. Music, nature, yoga, other fitness, and prayer all have potential for meditative practice.
  • Books and Movies: Both are great sources for telling stories of hope. Find what appeals to your individual tastes and interests. There are far too many possibilities for me to even make recommendations. What a fun book club idea it would be for readers to bring books or titles that have nurtured feelings of hope and then swap them with one another.
  • Music: Here is another place where you have to find the right fit. Aaron Copeland’s “Fanfare for the Common Man” always has been an incredible piece filled with hope and possibilities. Edvard Grieg’s “Morning Mood” is another good one where you actually can see the moments in the song when the sun rises above the horizon to greet a new day with hope.
  • Art: Nature photography and pictures where I feel I can walk into the scene give me hope. I’m not sure what it is, but I think it has something to do with my thoughts while enjoying these types of art. Most of the cards I send actually are crafted from my own photos from nature. I find them visually pleasing and love sending them.
  • Science: Yep, it surprises me a bit too, but science holds future cures for diseases. Hope and science should not be separated. Researchers don’t live in isolated worlds of facts. They are inherently hopeful that what they theorize, what they believe, will become fact. Their ideas are rooted in curiosity, wondering, possibility, and hope. Hope works through science. My medicines are infused with hope. It’s one of the side effects I don’t mind experiencing.
  • Self: When you get really quiet, when you dig deep into yourself, you will find your answers and the hope you need. You know what works best for you. Blogging is a way for me to express my hopeful thoughts to others. A journal may be an excellent way to explore your inner most thoughts in a manner that allows you to reflect back on thoughts. The place where hope must absolutely be kept is within your heart. Hope is a little bit like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz when she discovers there’s no place like home. Hope has been there within each of us all along. From time to time we need reminders. We need to know how to nurture it.

Hope is an essential part of a Stage V mindset.

If you have chosen to ignore a timeline provided by medicine and wake up each and every day choosing to live relentlessly, you understand.

If you believe in science that will prevent cancer cells from mutating or becoming treatment resistant, you understand.

If you believe in immunotherapy as the future of cancer cures and treatments, you understand.

If you believe that life is good and that your actions, beliefs, and the strong voice you speak defines hope, you understand.

If you believe in remission, in positive energy, and in hope, you understand.

You’d also be right.

Stay hopeful.

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We all need hope. Please share any ideas about hope so we all can benefit. If you are enjoying reading these posts, please consider officially following through your WordPress account or with your email address. Click on the gray “follow” tab in the bottom right hand corner and follow the prompts if interested in following as an email subscriber. Thanks for reading!

Hope, Belief, and a Monthly Planner

In early January of 2017, I bought myself a new monthly planner for the year ahead. My main motivation was I wanted a different one other than the school academic monthly planner I had used. Every time I used my school planner, there was a visual reminder that I wasn’t there. This was before official retirement when my leave had been extended for the entire school year. I pondered maybe it would be a good step to transition to a different planner.

The first sign that this was good was it only took me about five minutes to choose which new planner I wanted. I grabbed five or six off the shelf at the bookstore and sat down and started comparing them. One was too heavy and had a magnetic snapping cover. It was going to take up a lot of space in my bag. Weekly planners were out because I liked looking at the entire month as a whole. My final two choices were between a planner with a blue floral cover I liked but with very plain inside pages, and a colorful, almost hippie style outside cover, with equally flower power inside calendar pages. It was all very cheerful and bright. I bought the colorful and cheerful planner.

I had bemoaned for months over whether I would continue my leave from school or return to teaching, and here I had been able to make a decision quickly and effectively. Yes, I know my decision concerning work was much more monumental, but it was also stressful. It felt good to make a decision quickly about my planner and know I was happy with my choice.

But there is more to the story. I remained happy about my new planner for days afterward. It became one of my favorite objects. People would ask what was new, and I’d tell them in great detail about my wonderful monthly planner. It was weird and a bit obsessive. Truly, I did have other things going on. Then I figured out why my planner was a source of such joy. The planner was about hope. People who are hopeful make plans and write them down. When I bought my planner, my decision had been made to extend my leave, and I wanted a planner not connected to school while I didn’t work there. I was going to make and keep lots of plans. I did just that.

My calendar has been fuller than ever these past two years. My new planner for 2019 has a few too many things already penciled in for an introvert’s liking. One constant for the coming year will be to fill each day with hope, and maybe try to schedule a little less to balance with my inner peace.

Hope springs up in the most unexpected places. Consider the book Unbroken: A World War II Story of Survival, Resilience, and Redemption by Laura Hillenbrand. I expected a graphic, emotionally hard to read story of Louis Zamperini’s unfailing will to survive and beat all the cruelties of war and imprisonment. Throughout the book, I found myself wondering how in the world he managed to pull through and dodge death for another countless time. What I didn’t expect was to relate much on a personal level because my day-to-day life is so different from what Louis Zamperini lived. His resilience and strength really empowered his spirit. I had that in common with him. About halfway through the book, there was a chapter focused on his family’s beliefs that was powerful. You see, the Zamperini family always felt Louis was still alive after his plane went down and he was assumed dead. His parents still spoke of him in the present tense. This section of the book made me think for weeks about the intersection of hope and belief. Hope was a wish. Belief was a feeling. Belief persevered without proof. If your hope became part of your beliefs that you thought of as true, you then had this awesome force on your side to surround and support you.

Time and time again, I have needed to dig deep into my springs of hope. It happened a lot early into the cancer diagnosis when I was told why surgery or radiation wouldn’t work for me. There have been countless times when I have heard a medical NO, and always one more time than this where I have had to bounce back stronger and more hopeful than before because the hope in my heart said YES. There is often chaos and fear in NO. NO can be a very useful word. NO is a complete sentence all on its own. But here it carries a lot of uncertainty. There is always a path and hope in YES. YES carries lots of belief and promise.

Hope may make all the difference.

Never.

Ever.

Give.

Up.

Hope.

 

You are always welcome to leave a comment below.

What plans are you making?

How is hope part of your belief system?

 

Mirror Mirror

At first, I thought I was really reaching to connect things together in my life. Setting and achieving physical goals kept me focused on moving forward. Some sort of emotional “ah-ha” always manifested itself through these physical goals that were in process. My evidence is below.

One

Last summer, I wanted to complete a hike that required climbing an exhausting staircase made from rocks. The last time I completed it was in the summer of 2016. My body had been through so much two years ago and even more since then. But this is what I wanted to do and felt I could achieve. I began training in spring. Stair climbing became part of my workout routine. I increased time from ten minutes, to fifteen, and to twenty minutes in my house, going from my basement to second story, over and over again. It wasn’t terribly exciting, but it did what it was supposed to do and was a super workout. I knew both my strength and endurance had grown. I accomplished my hike (on a triumphant second try) and checked it off my list.

Work was going well in my weekly sessions with my fitness coach (permission given to shout out to Forest Coaching and Studios ). I also had made the difficult decision that it was in the best interests for my health to retire from teaching second grade. Necessary emails had been sent to my superintendent, my principal, my teaching team, and finally the staff at school. Describing those emails as tough for me to write is an understatement, but they were part of the plan to move forward with continued better health and my life. So, I was retelling all this to my coach while I practiced huge steps up and down from big blocks. It was all work going toward the successful hike. They were not average size steps. She commented on my retirement emails saying, “That’s a really big step.” Yes, it was. Then it hit me as I towered over her on top of one of these blocks that physically these were really giant steps and it all was a metaphor for what I was going through in my decision process.

My hike was something I had to do. I thought it was just about proving that I could do it. It did test my physical abilities and my will. Initially, it was planned as a birthday activity. It also became a celebration of a career that had successes, challenges, and finally closure.

Two

Building strength is a continued physical goal. Again through the support of my awesome fitness coach, I had progressed from lifting eight pounds to 65 pounds over the course of six months. Whooo-hoooo! Now November, I hadn’t lifted that much since summer. I worked on it again a couple of weeks ago. My first rep was tough. The blasted weight didn’t want to be lifted. I was frustrated. I remained immobile in my lifting position and commented on what was pretty obvious.

“This is heavy.”

Duh.

Then I dug into the lift. I slowly straightened.

“But . . . I . . . am . . . stronger.”

I stood strong and tall, victorious over the challenge. I almost cried, but I achieved it, and completed all my reps, with great satisfaction. Here is another strong metaphor for the emotional strength I’ve strived to build over time in terms of decisions, plans, and support I have needed to give myself. Knowing I am physically capable reinforces that I am emotionally and mentally competent to take on everything I do. I make the choices that are best for me. I am the only person who can be me. No one else knows exactly what’s it’s like. I get to decide. I can accept it if others aren’t with me. I don’t like it, but I can accept it. I am strong. I am enough.

I am more than enough.

Three

A couple of years back, I could walk an hour fairly easily. Due to side effects being on a certain chemotherapy drug long-term, walking deteriorated bit by bit due to neuropathy and then muscle issues caused by neuropathy. I didn’t have much stamina. Again I had to start slowly from the bottom. First, I walked twenty minutes on the treadmill. Gradually, I built that up to thirty minutes, and then forty minutes. When spring came I figured I was ready for outdoor walking. Eventually, I’ve built back up to a 60 minute walk. I feel my physical stamina and endurance mirrors where I am emotionally because I am so in this life for the long haul. I have more to do and need stamina and endurance to achieve all my goals. Just like with my physical strength, I feel my physical stamina positively spurs on my emotional determination every day.

Four

Now, I am working on jumping. I do not know how long I have not been able to jump. At the very least, it is correlated to the time when I was not able to climb or walk very well. I don’t remember really trying to jump for the sake of jumping before then. My “Jump Around” bits at Camp Randall Stadium on Badger Saturdays were always movin’ and groovin’, but not very jumpin’. Recently, much to my dismay, I discovered I could scarcely muster up a hop. I felt really old! Now, I can manage a high enough forward jump to clear a super small hurdle. It still bugs me. Surely, higher and farther jumps will be the next thing on the list to conquer. Interestingly, jumping too has an effect that’s mirrored in my non-physical life. I have been visualizing more writing endeavors for myself (like blogging, finding representation for a book I want to publish, establishing a platform). I must make a leap of faith. Learning how to physically jump again has been the hardest for me, perhaps because its mirrored counterpart is equally as hard for me. Well, blogging has become a reality for me, and that bodes well for my other writing goals. I will keep jumping in leaps and bounds.

None of these are coincidences. I don’t believe in those. My physical pursuits have incredible meaning for what I am working on personally. Cancer impacts both, but it doesn’t define either. I hope you can see symbiotic mirroring in your life. I’d love to hear from you if you have stories to share.