Peek a boo

I feel like I’m playing peek a boo with my reality. With cancer and the effects it has on me. I haven’t been able to look back at the chemo, surgery and radiation fully. The effects it has on my body, my mind and spirit. The effects on my children, my husband, my parents, siblings, nieces, nephews, friends, and all my loved ones. Its impossible for me to look directly at this ugly ass beast that changed every cell and fiber of my being. Sometimes I’m hiding under a big thick comforting blanket and I’ll slightly peek out from under it. Just one little eye, just for a glimpse. I find my emotions and panic attacks set in and it’s impossible to look again. That effort failed. I must retreat back into Netflix, books or video games. The reality is too ugly for me right now. I need Peace and healing. I’ve removed all signs if cancer from my closet and dresser. I removed all the cancer stickers from my car. I want to move on, but I can’t even look forward or backwards without my blanket. I’m stuck. Sometimes I can deal with things a small bit at a time. I might even have an afgan on instead. Its filtering a lot of reality. It’s also a lighter blanket, so I can move about and take care of the house and maybe even do a project. Then, once every couple of weeks, I bravely set out to therapy and put a thin veil on to try to look longer and harder at this emotional boiling pot. That’s what I call it. My emotions are so vast and heated and they have just collected so much that I don’t even have the mental or emotional capacity to deal with any more stress. It’s about to boil over and sometimes does. Often in the form of anxiety attacks. That’s how I know I’m done. Got to look in the dumb big ass pot. And try to cool down and relax the temperature. It’s a long work in progress. And it fucking sucks. A lot.

So, my emotions prevent me from blogging. In order to look back at the past, I have to play peek a boo. I can’t wear a filter, because I want the truth out. I need to be able to share other the world my experiences. I have to face this whole ordeal and it’s about time I deal with it, but it’s not as easy as just telling myself this.

I hope I can share my journey of healing better than I shared my journey of treatment. As I heal. I believe I will be able to share my treatment more. When I started therapy, I told my therapist that my goal was to blog again. It’s difficult to blog when you can’t even bear to peek at the experience. I’m going to try to play peek a boo a bit for myself and for you.

Happy Fucking Birthday to me!!!!

Well folks, Im 39 today! The picture in this blog is the view from my bedroom where i am currently typing in comfort from. My husband isnt much for decorations but he knows I am. He is an amazing man and Im lucky to have him.

I woke up this morning and instantly wanted to blog. I wanted to share my joy with whomever wanted to read it. Because I realized something. The average time frame between diagnosis and death for IBC was 15-18 months just prior to 2006. It’s been about that time since I was diagnosed. 2006 was just 13 years ago. It’s amazing to think that if I had been born at a different time frame in all of history (or least prior to 2006), I would not be alive to tell you all that “It’s my birthday, Bitches!!” It’s just incredible to think about that. I actually think about that a lot. I’m laying here in bed with my new leg and back pillow wedges my husband got me with my new weighted blanket wrapped around me. I am going to go kitten browsing later. (I crack myself up). So, maybe I’ll meet a new little fuzzy friend. Currently, my children are sleeping and my husband is decorating and wrapping a ‘few’ things. Yesterday, I made two cheesecakes and homemade cinnamon rolls for breakfast and dessert later. I will make my crab pot pie later which I’m super excited about. Yummy! I have failed in years past to mention that I do not want to clean the house on my birthday. I resent it and so that was literally the only idea I could think of, so pat on the back to myself on that one. Did i mention that fabulous hubby is picking up the house too? He’s doing a fabulous job so far! I’m happy aready! Blanket, pillows, kitten, house cleaning and decorations! Yay!

I love birthdays. I feel it is everyone’s personal holiday. I try to plan and treat myself on my birthday. I worked one day ever on my birthday because I completely forgot to put it as a vacation day, and I begged to go home at one point and my boss let me leave. My brother has his own company and on their birthdays, they get the day off with holiday pay. Love it! Most people I know don’t even celebrate it much and go to work and treat it as any other day. I feel these people must be depresssed or they hate getting older or some shit. That’s dumb. They are doing it wrong. It’s YOUR special fucking day and no one should give more shits about it than YOU! Why? Well, because you are ALIVE! I celebrate me and the fact that im alive. My birthday gift every year truly already happened because im there to celebrate it. That’s what it comes down to. I celebrate my being alive, and damnit, I fucking love life. Love it, embrace it! Let go of any ideas of what you should have accomplished at that age. Fuck that. Life truly is a gift and it can be taken away at any moment, and you know what?! It WILL! We will all die. But, today, I live. You live. Today, its my motherfuking birthday, bitches! And I will spend it snuggled with love from my family, and friends (and possibly a kitten). A few friends and I are gonna go paint ceramics at a little local shop that allows you to just walk in, pick out a ceramic, paint it at a table (oh, and they have two resident cats, too. Bonus!) drink wine if we want and just relax. Yay! About 18 months ago, most of these friends weren’t as close. Cancer brought us closer. It’s amazing the blessings through this damn cancer ordeal that have occurred. I love this adventures called life and “Happy Fucking Birthday” to me!