“Happiness depends more on how life strikes you than on what happens.” -Andy Rooney (RIP)
Hello. It has been quite some time since I’ve updated here–yet a lot has happened. I have been going through some things personally, some things that sometimes I feel like shouldn’t necessarily be posted publicly. Though, I’m conflicted because isn’t that what writing is all about? Getting your thoughts, feelings, troubles and mishaps out there on “paper?” I didn’t post anything in fear it would come across as me being whiny, angry and trying to throw a pity party. That’s what free-writing and “Morning Pages” are for, I suppose. You have to get all the crap out of your mind before you can write something great. Something epic. Something heartfelt. Something meaningful. Something funny.
I’ve had a hard time sitting down to write anything lately, mainly in fear that it would make everything too real and it would be too much for me to handle emotionally. There’s something about writing things down, at least for me, that make you start to analyze, over-think, reflect and ponder; sometimes to the point of driving yourself crazy. However, now that the worry, fear and heartache is somewhat over, I want to get started again and push through. Put it all out there. The good, the bad, the ugly.
My Mom was diagnosed with breast cancer in September–the month of my birthday and also the anniversary month of my Mom’s husband’s tragic accident in Iraq, which left him without a left arm and no fingers on his right hand. I have now come to associate September with bad news–not the month to celebrate my life.
However, looking back at these events, it made me appreciate my life more and opened my eyes to just how much I should be thankful for. I have a loving family who is always there for me, and I for them. I have a wonderful boyfriend who I can trust completely to always be there and be my confidant, my best friend and my soul mate. I don’t know if I would’ve gotten through these past few months after learning of my Mom’s sickness without him there holding me, telling me he loved me and that no matter what happened, “we would get through it together.”
My Mom made it through her double-mastectomy surgery and is recovering beautifully. We received good news last week that she was 100% cancer-free, the cancer wasn’t in her lymph nodes and she wouldn’t have to go through chemotherapy.
I also found out that she is having a genetic test done to see if she carries the cancer gene. If she does, that means I have to be tested as well.
I am terrified.
Even though my Dad’s side of the family has no history of cancer, my Mom’s side of the family has a history of ovarian cancer, breast cancer and bladder cancer.
I have been going through every day worrying about the inevitable. Even though there’s nothing I can do about it, I can’t help but worry. “What if…” I almost don’t want to know, but I know I need to know. If that makes sense.
Before my Mom’s surgery, with Mom’s cancer looming over our heads and it always being at the forefront of my mind, G. and I celebrated our three-year anniversary together and in that celebration, rejoiced the fact that we are closer now than ever before and celebrated how happy we were with our lives together in our little apartment and our two fur-children. I feel like it made us appreciate our lives together and life in general that much more.
These last few months have felt like we can’t catch a break. Things have been a little rocky for me at my job and G. didn’t get the new position he applied for at his current job. One that we thought he would be perfect for and one we both know he already does so well. It would have allowed him to have weekends off with me. Such a rare treat for us as we have never had a true weekend off together since we started dating, unless one of us took the weekend off from work.
Along with those issues, our water bill came in September and it was almost $200. The bill reflected the usage when we had our bubbling toilet of doom issues, which I wrote about before. We are still battling with the executives who own our building. They refuse to pay the bill without substantial “proof,” though we have laid it out for them, plain as day, with written documentation of my conversations with “Larry” and our landlord. The dates on the water bill match perfectly. The construction I wrote about previously has only gotten worse in front of our door and it now takes up the entire sidewalk leading to the elevator and to our apartment. White dust is constantly blowing into our apartment, caking our shoes and floor. We can barely get out of our front door. The entire sidewalk looks like a war zone. They still can’t locate the problem in the pipes and we fear they never will, unless they dig under our apartment floor and we have to move.
Even with the stress, G. and I still find time to laugh and dance when we cook dinner in the evenings with the jackhammer pounding and the squeal of metal being cut outside.
We try to take walks into town when he gets home from work on the weekends. We grab a latte, sit on a bench and watch the sunset and people watch. These are my favorite moments with him and what gets me through the day. Doing these things together and still having the ability to enjoy life’s simple pleasures are things that make me realize, I know things will be okay and can only get better from here. Things could always be worse and I am so thankful for my life and what I do have.