Telling people you have cancer is worse than having cancer.

Praying over shit

While up on the rims yesterday, as Korra and I were heading back to the truck, I came across this praying mantis having dinner on a pile of dog shit.

I looked at it, recognized what was happening, thought it was gross, and walked away. Every step away from that little worship service over shit I realized it is the exact metaphor for what is happening in my life right now. Naturally I returned and said grace, and took a picture.

So. Here’s me, too, praying over some shit.

I pray for you. I am personally in stunned out-of-body-experience mode at the moment and I’m not processing any of this yet.

I am going to take the trailer out this weekend to be in nature, dry camped, away from everything. I’ll bring my collage supplies for giant vision boards, and I’ll see what comes up for me. I’ll bring my books. I’ll bring my essential oils and my tarot cards and mala beads and I’ll pray. I’ll pray a lot. I’ll have a moment to look out the trailer at the rocks and the sky and the stars and sit there with my dog. I’ll drink coffee and some beers and just take a break and reflect on what is happening.

What is coming up for me now is not life or death mortality worry. What is coming up for me is the fact that a cancer diagnosis rips into everyone’s lives, not just mine. It affects everyone that knows me and the feeling is not burden. My biggest feelings are responsibility and accountability. I feel responsible for showing up. I’ve always been the person that is better at taking care of myself if I know others are counting on me, like meeting a friend for a walk or run or hike. This is like the biggest life lesson of showing up for myself because I know for a fact that I will do whatever I can not to let people down.

Don’t worry, it doesn’t feel like a negative sense of pressure. I mean this from the bottom of my heart: when I know people are counting on me, I will never ever quit on them. This is good for me as I face this, so I’m embracing it. Additionally, I’ve been writing a blog off and on for well, forever, but very consistently for the last 3 years. I feel a responsibility to do as much writing as I can, too. Not only to keep people updated, but also to connect and find healing for myself.

Yes. I’ll have a lot of grace for myself as I deal with this shit. Of course, because I will have to.

Sitting at my desk this afternoon, prepping my plans for next week, I thought, “Oh my, I don’t have all my plans done for next week! I have NOTHING done in reading. I didn’t send my copy order out for next week! I’m so behind!” and then I just had to gently take the hand of the me-self that lives inside and say

to myself:

Um, sweetie? You just found out you have cancer a day ago. It’s ok to be a little distracted, and a little behind.

The naughty culprit. Edited for obvious reasons. Yes, the bruise is like 2x the size of my areola. Puke emoji.

INTERJECT EMOTIONAL MOMENT AS I AM TYPING: I really hate this. I HATE being vulnerable. Just re-reading that I told myself it was okay to be imperfect makes me jittery and upset and teary with big fat tears. It’s so fucking hard to let my hair down. I don’t think I will be able to let myself really just be shitty at things right now if that’s what happens. I don’t think I can really handle that…especially for my students.

So for now all I’m doing is recognizing that this is a really hard situation. And, well, it’s going to get harder before it gets better.


Tomorrow I have to tell my students. I am not going to go too much into detail, but they are for sure picking up on things and I need to tell their parents and them.

No. I’m not looking forward to that any more than I would welcome oral surgery on top of this dumpster fire. Speaking of dumpster fires…2020 has been really ridiculous for sure. But I can’t hate the whole year in a general sense, because in I’m pretty sure I found my soulmate this year. And when that happens, you see things through the lens of additional gratitude. I’m so lucky we found each other like needles in a haystack that I can’t be mad at the year.

I’m plenty mad at events. I AM NOT GONNA LIE. Lots of shit sucks. This cancer shit takes the cake. But some of the women I’ve found on /Reddit and IG are PREGNANT AND HAVE CANCER AND HAVE TO DEAL WITH THIS IN COVID. Fuck. At least I’m not pregnant, too.

Racism sucks more than me having cancer. Covid killing people sucks more than me having cancer. 45 sucks more than me having cancer. So. Perspective people. Perspective. We all have it.

I get to use more than 3 cancer wishes. The secret is I get as many as I want. I just made up those rules but this is my blog and I’m the boss here.

The rims and clouds.

And one of them is that you get your ass out there and vote. VOTE HARD.

Vote for someone that is not going to keep killing people. PS, it’s not 45. It’s 46. I am now someone with a pre-existing condition. I can understand on a molecular level what that means to people struggling with health care coverage. No. I have no idea what this is going to cost me yet. I am not even going there at this time. I can’t. All I know is 45 will likely to continue to make my life harder on additional levels if he sticks around. So, make him go, OK?

We can do hard things.


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