A change of tide

The tides are a changin’.

“Would you like to try that on? Can I help you find anything? Can I start you a fitting room?”

The worst thing about shopping is the nagging sales pitches that every dutiful employee is required to engage in. I hope that they hate doing it as much as the customer loathes hearing it, but it’s part of the job. Most would buy an article of clothing based on their partiality to the look or brand, but occasionally there are innate tangibles that persuade us to purchase something for more sentimental reasons. Such was the case with this sales pitch.

“This company is amazing, the founder’s father had cancer and died when he was very young, so now he has this line of shirts that say encouraging things on them.” She picks up a shirt and unfolds it to reveal the words Mind Over Matter.

Continuing her plug, “Cute, right? And on every tag there is a story from a different cancer survivor, or someone who has lost somebody to cancer. It’s really moving because it affects everybody. I mean, you probably know somebody like a friend or family member who has gone through cancer. So everybody can relate. It’s for a good cause.”

I looked down at my wrist and calmly put my hand over it to cover my tattoo. It says Mind Over Matter, but I didn’t want to show her. I self-consciously wanted to conceal my intimate knowledge of the same subject that she was passionately trying to sell me shirts through.

Why couldn’t I speak up and tell her that I was one of those people who had cancer? Lately, I just don’t feel like talking about it; I know the subsequent questions I would be asked as her happy sales-promoting face converted into a pouty lip and furrowed brow. She would look at me like I was an abandoned little puppy that needed to be adopted.

We all choose to hide certain things about ourselves in an effort to remain likeable. Although, in this case I’m certain she wouldn’t have changed her opinion of me either way, had I divulged my secret. But it wouldn’t have got me a free shirt either.

There have been countless times that I’ve been in a similar situation where I have to decide if I speak up or keep quiet about “the cancer thing.” There was a time when I couldn’t hide it because of the physical evidence of cancer—being bald for example. But my hair grew back, and there is increasingly less proof of the sick girl that I once was. Faded scars are the last trace of a bygone era.

I associated myself with my disease for so many years; it became who I was and what people knew me by—the young girl who got breast cancer. I grew fond of the label because it gave me a peculiar new sense of empowerment that I had accomplished and beat something. Now, as the years have passed, I find myself wanting to disassociate myself with my former label. I don’t want to be like that high school football player who still talks about the glory days and can’t move on in life. Stagnant. Unevolved. Those who cannot change or adapt, have already convinced themselves that they are unable to because of their current situation. “This is as good as it gets.”

As my environment is evolving away from cancer, I adapt, not to survive but to continue to improve upon myself and my understanding of the world. By changing my thinking from “sick cancer girl” to something more like “fucking badass” I’m leaving no space for excuses (although I still make them). Each experience in life is a means to get us to the next place in life; woven together to create a beautiful, intricate story that is as unique as the very DNA that flows through our veins.

What most people fail to understand is that you can write your own story—with intention, purpose, and foresight—your own paradigm shift is there for the taking if you’re willing to navigate yourself out of the prevailing winds.  This is something that I’ve struggled with recently.

I quit my job right before Thanksgiving. After cancer, it’s common to feel lost. We’re left wading in the water, surrounded by the fiery wreckage of a crashed airplane. I wanted time to decompress and find myself, but recently I feel like my time off has left me indolent and idle.

My lack of framework is mostly to blame for my barren ambition. I wrongfully assumed that when I quit my job I’d be swimming in creativity and a flurry of new projects to conquer that I’d previously never had time for. I was waiting for the “moment to strike” to want to write, but it rarely has happened. I assumed that once I was free from the daily burdens of my corporate job, that all my good ideas would flood my mind and I’d jump to it and get to work. I’ve waited around for something to strike. And here I am, nearly 8 months later in the Sahara desert of a creative drought.

How does one break free from the doldrums of complacency and zero motivation? I frequently feel ashamed and self-critical of this insidious helplessness that crept into my life like a weed slowly suffocating my garden of roses—and the neighbors have begun to notice my ill-manicured lawn. The deeper I get into this apathetic life and the less I mold structure out of my days has caused me to be a person that I hardly admire. I spend my days going to the beach and playing the role of a stay-at-home-girlfriend.

How did I get here? And am I becoming a millennial? Based on the year I was born, I am classified as a millennial. A self-interest seeking and unapologetic species who think memes are religion and marriage is outdated.

I talk shit about millennials but my ironic fate has turned me into that which I abhor. I have a short attention span. I usually write two paragraphs and excuse myself to the kitchen to go make a snack and forget about what I was originally writing altogether. Motivation = poof. I expect things to be handed to me when I know they won’t be, but that doesn’t stop me from sitting around and waiting. I procrastinate, my favorite word is tomorrow, and I spend way too much money on shoes and handbags because somehow this makes me feel like I’m worth something and hopefully convinces strangers that I’m mildly successful and I’ve got my shit together. Which, I do not. But that’s OK, there is always a low-pressure drop in the air before a hurricane approaches.

Women frequently express jealousy of my “stay at home girlfriend/dog mom” status. Nah, girl. It’s not all that great once you find yourself getting excited about a sale at Michael’s craft store, or a new season of Girlfriends Guide to Divorce that you can binge watch all night while drinking your new case of White Girl Rosé. It’s not all that great when you realize that you don’t have anything interesting to talk about except meaningless gossip. It’s not all that great when someone asks you that impending question “So what do you do for work?” And my response is usually something like “I’m a stay at home dog mom and I’m also trying to become a drug lord but it’s been really difficult breaking into the biz.”

I’ve discovered that thoughts don’t necessarily lead to generating action; contrarily, premeditated action and good habits are what generates productive thoughts. So I’m making a change. I’m placing stability and structure back into my life. I’m not going to go shopping at 1 pm followed by drinks on the beach at 3pm followed by happy hour with friends at 6 pm. I retract that—I’m not going to do that every day, but still maybe once in a while. It’s been a fabulous run, but Robert Frost had it right when he said “Nothing gold can stay.

There is undermined value in doing absolutely nothing for a while, but I’m pushing it’s limit so I’m trying to abide by my own new rules which I’ve neatly outlined below. 🙂

I don’t try to be better than anybody else, I just try to be better than the me I was yesterday.

 

  1. No one owes you anything.

Although, we’re taught to believe otherwise. My parents did an excellent job raising me and my two sisters, but yes, we were a bit coddled and spoiled. My first car was a BMW which they paid for. Was it a mistake on their part? No, they love me and just wanted the best for me, but it made me subconsciously believe that things would probably be handed to me without working for them. College too—I wasn’t paying for it so I didn’t value it as much as I should have. I mistook college as a chore. Another obligatory thing in life that I didn’t really want to do. We tend to mistake love for indebtedness—like we are owed some magical credit card fueled by the love we have for each other. Case in point is our cultural obsession with grandiose weddings and marriage proposals. My engagement ring should reflect how much my fiancé loves me. We’re going to have a huge expensive wedding because we’re so much in love that we want everybody to know. A show of money is not a show of love. LOVE should be manifested in physical and verbal acts of admiration, respect, emotional empathy, and commitment. Be kind, support each other’s mental needs, hold hands. The only thing we are owed in life, is kindness and love.

 

  1. Value your real relationships in life.

Shift your values. What do you want people to remember you by, when you die? That you had 100K followers on Instagram, or that you were a genuinely nice person who sought to help others in need? Sure, you can do both of those things. But our generation places increasingly too much value on the narcissistic fueled spectacles of a fake universe we call social media. If you have a strong influence on Instagram or Twitter, use it wisely, be helpful and encouraging to your followers. Think about the message you’re sending when you post an obviously-set-up-but-looks-candid photo and pretend to have a perfect life/perfect children/perfect ass, etc. I try to post the good with the bad, but sometimes I need to step away and not post anything at all.

 

  1. Stop complaining.

I wouldn’t trade places with anybody in the world. If you’re feeling sorry for yourself—that’s okay—you’re allowed to feel that way. Verbalizing your unhappiness in the form of bitching and projecting it on other people is not okay, and PS—nobody cares, so STFU. Instead of complaining, ask somebody you admire for advice regarding your situation. The only person who can help you is yourself.

 

  1. If you keep letting down yourself, you’ll eventually let everybody else down.

I struggle with this one a lot. It’s something I have to remind myself of daily. When we keep procrastinating and putting things off, that has an impact on who we are perceived as a person. If I can’t rely on myself to do something in a timely matter, why would anybody else rely on me for anything?

 

  1. Work fucking harder for the life you want.

Nobody is going to do it for you. I worked and saved money so that I could quit my job for up to a year, because that’s the life I wanted. I don’t regret it; I learned from it.

 

  1. Pray more.

God is real and wants to help you.

 

  1. When the vodka runs out, your problems are still there.

Sure, I like to drink just as much as any other young person, but drinking should be a reward to celebrate your accomplishments, and not a crutch for when your life isn’t going as planned.

 

  1. Take more risks.

The world is scary and we’re afraid to fail because we’ve been handed participation trophies our entire lives. High risks = high reward.

 

  1. Get the fuck off Facebook.

This is mostly for everybody else, because I’m hardly ever on Facebook. If you’re posting more than one time a day, then you’re on there too much. Go back to my #2 point.

 

  1. Stop comparing yourself to others.

We are taught to drive a car by looking ahead of us in our own lane. If you are constantly staring to your right and left at the nicer cars going faster than you, you’ll inevitably crash. You are unique in your own way, and nobody deserves comparison to you. It’s natural to be competitive and compare ourselves with others, but instead of thinking “I’m jealous of that person because they have (insert desirable attribute here),” try to think to yourself “I’m happy for that person, good for them.”

 

I’m at the point in my life where I don’t know what the hell I REALLY want to do. I got my real estate license, along with a slew of other useless licensees and laurels that are unprofitable additions to my repertoire. Like, a motorcycle license when I don’t own a motorcycle.

It took me thirty three and a half years to realize that I don’t always have to be DOING something. Sometimes, being alive is an accomplishment in itself. Sometimes we need time to reinvent ourselves. I’m not the same person that I was three years ago, so why should I be doing the same things as my old self?

I am resetting my life. I still don’t know what I want to “do” after my fun-employed life reboot. I’d like to find a way to comfortably exist with a job that doesn’t make me want to put my laptop in a panini press. Some people search their whole lives for that. But I have new goals, and I’ll be out there like Christopher Columbus with a wine glass in hand searching for my next conquest in life.

“The more you see yourself as what you’d like to become, and act as if what you want is already there, the more you’ll activate those dormant forces that will collaborate to transform your dream into your reality.” – Wayne Dyer

The Struggle is Real AF

Chemo brain is a real thing.

It’s 3:40 and I have an appointment at 4, and it’s going to take me at least twenty minutes to drive there in traffic this time of day. I grab my Louie bag. Toss in a bottle of water, my wallet and my makeup bag as I run out the door and hop into my car. Turn the car on. Put the car in reverse. Go to grab my phone to look up directions to my appointment. FUCK. I left my phone on the kitchen counter. Park car. Turn off engine. Run into the house like a crazy woman with a swarm of bees chasing her.

Just a normal moment in my life. This type of stuff happens every day. I. Forget. Everything. I would forget my own birthday if I didn’t have to write it on doctor forms all the time.

I’m not going to just any appointment either, I’m going to see a psychiatrist. Because I literally can’t deal with this sorry excuse for a brain anymore. I give up. I gave up. I tried for about 9 months to tell myself that chemo brain wasn’t that bad and that it didn’t affect me. In those months, I forgot birthdays. I forgot important doctor appointments. I forgot which airport I was flying out of. I forgot to pay a hospital bill. I forgot to call people back. I went to the grocery store to buy coffee and I came back with a cart full of food except for the coffee.

The last straw came when I started to notice that my forgetfulness could sometimes hurt other people. I was a half assed friend and person in general and I’ve never been that way until now. I knew it wasn’t who I was. My brain was like a generator being powered by a single potato.

I keep saying that I was going to see a psychiatrist for a few months, and again, I kept forgetting to make an appointment. Or I’d yield an anemic attempt to look up a local psychiatrist and get frustrated and give up. I tried taking “brain pills” like focus factor. I tried green tea, green caffeine, normal caffeine, gingko biloba, B vitamins, unicorn tears, vampire glitter, etc.

I was still driving the struggle bus all the way to struggle city. Sippin’ on that struggle sizzurp.
(sorry, you get the point)

But I finally got an appointment (which was not covered by insurance of course) and saw a psychiatrist. I am not a huge cheerleader for ADHD drugs like Adderall and Vyvanse but I knew I needed something. I was so frustrated. I knew I needed something to help me focus.

I met with the psychiatrist. I had never been to one before this moment in my life. It was literally verbatim like the movies. I was kinda excited! He had a mahogany paneled office with a large full-wall bookshelf stocked with leather-bound books, encyclopedias and old airplane figurines. He had a large leather couch and one of those chase lounge/bed thingys that you’re supposed to lay down on and cry and tell your life story. So chic! His desk was a huge solid mahogany one like the Prezzy has in his oval office. He didn’t have a computer or a laptop or even a phone on his desk. He had a pad of blank unlined paper…and …. get this… a fountain pen and an ink well. He dipped his pen in the ink and started writing his notes in cursive on blank paper. Fancy as fuck huh. He was old school. (he was also just plain old — he has been in practice for 57 years)

After I told him my life story and history, he said that it appeared like I had the inattentive type of ADHD. He thinks I probably had always had it, but that chemo had just exacerbated the symptoms. I figured that much. Growing up my friends didn’t exactly call me “Snoozin” for my sharp attention span. I had always been the type who quietly listened to other people speaking as I daydreamed about something else and their words fluttered in one ear and out the next.

Friend: Beep Boop Bap Zing Ping Pong Potato Tomato

Me: Wait did you just say you’re allergic to broccoli?

Friend: ……. What? No I said my son just stared playing hockey. And his allergies are terrible.

My brain: [ ting-tong-ching-chong fa lalalala ]
Me: Oh yeah ha-ha I was just kidding… Hockey, sounds neat-o. **insert awkward smile emoji**

Inattentive ADHD is descried as having at least 6 of these symptoms:

• Not paying attention to detail
• Making careless mistakes
• Failing to pay attention and keep on task
• Not listening
• Being unable to follow or understand instructions
• Avoiding tasks that involve effort
• Being distracted
• Being forgetful
• Losing things that are needed to complete tasks

So I left Doctor McFancy’s office with a written prescription for Adderall time release. Has it been working? Yes! Do I feel different? YES! Doesn’t Adderall make you feel jittery or hyper? No, not if it’s prescribed correctly and it’s working the way it should be. I feel great. It doesn’t keep me up all night. I take it when I wake up and it starts wearing down at around dinner time. Will Adderall work for everyone? I have no idea, I’m not a doctor although I’d like to have a doctor’s salary.

So it’s Monday and I’m just starting my second week on it. No complications or side effects so far. I’ll let you all know how it works long-term. There are no known side effects or interactions with Tamoxifen or any increased breast cancer risk.

I feel like I am normal. I am no longer a lazy slug with a potato-powered brain!

I want to note that medication may not be the best solution for everyone experiencing chemo brain. Certain chemotherapy drugs are also shown to have more damaging effects on cognitive function than others, as are certain hormone therapy drugs. Chemotherapy given in higher, more concentrated dosages (which is what I got) also has shown to have worse long term effects on cognitive functioning.

Hopefully, in my lifetime, we will see the day when chemotherapy is an outdated treatment. Although it does save lives, chemotherapy’s negative affects are garnering more attention and causing people to turn away and seek alternative therapy.

It’s just an endless cycle of pharmaceutical drugs. Doctors administer outrageously expensive chemotherapy medicine to kill cancer. Patient needs more pharmaceutical drugs to cope with chemo. Nausea drugs. Anxiety medicine. Pain pills. And then the long-term effects present a need for more expensive drugs to treat lymphedema, chronic pain, chemo brain, etc. Doctor visits, private psychiatrist sessions, surgery, hospital stays, physical therapy, expensive lab tests and scans.

Money, money, money.

I don’t know. If you regularly read my blog, you know that I’m usually very optimistic. But I do sort of feel a little bit defeated because I had to turn to another chemical to make myself feel normal again. It seems to have solved my problem for the time being, though. So for that, I am grateful. It just makes me think, what the fuck is taking so long with this cancer cure? If nobody profited off of all this medicine and treatment, would we have found a cure sooner?

Abso-fucking-lutely.

Deep thoughts. Thank you Adderall, I guess.

For more information on symptoms of chemo brain click here:
http://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/chemo-brain/home/ovc-20170224

S