Almost 3 years

I can't believe that it has almost been 3 years since the word Cancer became attached to me in such an unimaginable way. You would think that working in Healthcare would make you a better patient but I believe that the opposite is true. After I quit working at the hospital I lost my Insurance so for the last year and a half my role as a patient ended.

Today I went in for a Physical. I had never had a whole physical it was funny to me to be the patient doing all of the things that I teach my students at school. It's all a little surreal up until they give you the little paper gown and tell you that you can keep your socks on but that is all. When you feel the chill in the air and the goosebumps raise up all over you and you remember that it's not pretend like it is at work, you really are the patient and it really is a big deal. It's so easy to think that if you ignore it, it will just go away. You can't see it, so how do you really know it's there?

Anyways. I did my part. I put on my big girl panties and let them poke and prod , now the hard part starts. We wait. 

My Notebook

I have a notebook, It is usually always with me. It is a habit I started about 8 years ago when I was first separated from the wasband. When I am frustrated or upset about something I usually need to take a time out or I end up lashing out and saying things I don't mean and regretting later. So instead I write. I write letters to the offender or the "thing" that at the moment was causing me so much inner turmoil.  It worked really well with the wasband because I could cuss him out and say anything I wanted with out the mess to clean up later. The biggest plus was that it was then out of my head, and I could continue on with things with out it constantly nagging at my mind. I had quite a few notebooks dedicated to him.

As things calmed down I wrote less and less. But lately I have started to take up the habit again not for any one particular reason or person but mainly for my sanity. I started blogging and it took the place of notebooks I think. But now I don't blog much anymore so back to the notebooks I go.

The unfinished painting from 12 years ago.

Unintentional Inspiration

I use to paint, I would sit in my room for hours and play around with the watercolors on my palate. I Mixed all sorts of colors, and painted all sorts of things. I fell into a comfortable pattern, painting the same things. It was usually a striking sunset and then the black silhouettes of leafless trees over the top. Nothing very spectacular really.. and not many of them ever really turned out. But I liked it, it was enjoyable. 


One day, I stopped painting. There is a long story associated with why I stopped, but its neither here nor there. The result was, I stopped painting. 


The other day I was talking with a friend, we talked about painting. If you've known me for very long you know that I can't often just sit. I am usually doing something with my hands. Well during this particular conversation I was doodling and doodled something silly and sent a picture of it to my friend in hopes to give this friend a good laugh. The reaction I got was very different then what I expected. My Friend said "Beautiful" I as puzzled, how could my silly little doodle be misconstrued as beauty? I corrected my friend with a laugh and pointed out the silliness of it all. My friend retaliated with a comment about it being thoughtful and liking it. We discussed some more about art and painting. I realized that the only painting from back then that I knew I could find was in my Dad's office, that thought made me smile. Knowing that a person I cherish so dearly had it.


 I did come across a long unfinished painting the other day. I never finished it because I like how it was turning out, and when I finished what I was working on I didn't go any further for fear of messing it up and having to scrap the whole thing. So there it has sat, for probably 10 years untouched, unchanged and unfinished. It made me think about the way I live my life. Always so scared to ruffle peoples feathers, make a mistake, give a true opinion or anger someone that I find I bend to what I know they want to hear, sacrificing myself for their happiness. I need to stop doing that, I need to find a way to not be so scared. 


I started to think about my doodles, and then about painting, and again about the unfinished painting. Even now, after all of this time I am still scared to touch it. But it did wake up a desire to paint again. So, I went out and bought new supplies and have been playing around. Getting reacquainted with the color, paper, supplies and process has been more difficult than I anticipated but I am having fun. 


I turn on my music, and just paint. If I mess up, I just try again, there is no one to get mad at me, I have no expectations to live up to. The paint and paper won't leave, judge, insult or hurt me. For now, that is a good start. 


So Thank You dear friend for thinking my doodle was beautiful, helping me see that I can do something that is worth even the least little bit to someone else. Thank you for unearthing something I forgot I loved so much. Thank you for not running away.