25 October 2013

The Gift That Keeps On Giving

One of the 'best' things cancer gave me was the ability to say NO.  A big part of my ‘job’ is how I contribute to my community.  The year I was in treatment and the year after, I was pretty good about not getting roped into stuff that stressed me out.  That is, I didn't do stuff at which I sucked. When I added back my volunteer commitments, I was pretty choosy about the stuff I took on, focusing on things where my talents could be applied or things I enjoyed.   It occurs to me this morning that I've fallen away from that.

I am feeling less in control than when I had cancer.  Actually, I am totally out of control, as is evidenced by the fact I just ate 8 chocolate mini-cupcakes for breakfast.  No, really, I’m not exaggerating.  And I did this because I am dreading my day, and I am dreading my day because I volunteered to drive for a kid field trip, which is probably my second least favorite thing to do, right after public speaking at a correctional institution.

So how did I get roped into this?  A combination of things.  First, being a stay at home mom, I carry a lot of guilt, feeling as though I could always do more and I need to shoulder the load for moms who would LOVE to go on a field trip but have to work instead.  Second, when my kid asked me to do this, it was far enough away (a whole month) to seem like a good idea.  And third, my head-med makes me kind of numb to my true feelings about doing something like this, which is a combination of panic, dread and distaste.  

Don’t get me wrong, I often volunteer at the kids' school, but in the capacity I enjoy with things that play to my strengths - organization, creative stuff and things that need a warm body but very little interaction.  (Room-parent, the teacher work-room, hanging art, extra eyes on the playground.)

The other big part of my ‘job’ is making the trains run on time in my house.  That means my family has what they need to do their jobs, (clean clothes to wear, food in their bellies, toilet paper and batteries, and light and heat because I paid the bills.)  And when I do my job well everything goes smoothly and when I fall down on the job all hell breaks loose, and when I am marginally managing, as I have been for quite a while, everybody gets what they need except me.  And that is where I find myself today - eating junk food as comfort and getting ready to drive five 9-year-olds to a Native American village.    

As time passes, the cancer fades to a blip on my radar screen of life.  I was fortunate that it turned out to be as inconsequential as it did.  Yes, I miss my boobs, but in the big picture, I’m pretty healthy. And now, for me to make my cancer ‘count’, I feel like I need to hold on to the lessons it taught me.  I’m gonna have to get back to just saying no.  I’m gonna have to believe that I am stronger than I feel at any given moment, (and especially that I am stronger than <insert junk food here>.)  And that I am capable of tolerating discomfort.  Chemo definitely sucks more than running, and I was able to make it through that, so a run/walk isn’t going to kill me.  If I take better care of me, I will be better able to meet my obligations.  My community and family will benefit. 

Some changes I will make as we move into the new year:  

I will not take a class next semester.  I'm taking a break from the self-induced 4.0 GPA pressure. 

We will wrap up the livingroom-project-from-hell and take a breather from home improvement.

I will work on getting into a good routine for me - bed earlier, up earlier, making the whole family eat healthier food, and exercise together and individually.

I'll be making time for my creative pursuits - writing, reading, crafts, cooking.

More family fun - games, trips, experiences