Cut

My friend got her "chemo cut" today. She took it like the trooper she is, sharing the experience with her two best friends and making it a day of friendship and celebration of life rather than one of loss and fear. I admire her. I feel a million things at once, and few of them are positive. I would like to think I would be as courageous and upbeat and hopeful as my friend in her shoes. I can't say for certain that I would.

Mama never got the chemo cut. She didn't get far enough down the Multiple Myeloma road to take it. She didn't want to walk that road, though. She was ready to go. She told me so. She was ready to see Gary and Grandpa Joe and be done with hospitals and tests and needles and injury and pain. I understood, but I wasn't ready to let go.

I get angry when I see or hear the C word. I hate it with a passion I can't describe. I'm glad I can't describe it. I don't want to give it energy or time or acknowledgment. I just want to hate it.

I'm glad my friend is filled with hope. I know that is the way to live. She is a better woman that I.

Too Quiet

Resurrecting a poem I wrote in 2004 when my boys were away on a trip.

Too Quiet

It's too quiet in here
No voice of boy, no smile of teen
The scene cries for the absence
Waits, expectant, like me
Like it would only be an hour to hope
Like it would only be an hour
I miss you

It's too quiet in here
No impish acts, no sticks in the house
The empty is me
Loves without limit or restraint
Like it will be only a while till you're here
Like it will only be a while
Come home

It's too quiet in here
No chocolate stains, no eyes on ice cream
The silence shatters glass
Reaches across the miles to where you are
Like it could only be a prayer and you'd appear
Like it could only be a prayer
It's quiet

Pushing Through

Finished Writing Down the Bones this morning. I've moved on to Bonni Goldberg's Room to Write. I've browsed through it before (much like I had WDTB) but haven't read it start to finish. I have far too many great books on the writing craft that have been sitting on my shelves unread. Off the top of my head:
Write It Down, Make It Happen
Damn! Why Didn't I Write That?
The Well-Fed Writer
The Artist's Way
Vein of Gold
The Sound of Paper
God Is No Laughing Matter
The Creative Call (I think I lent this one out)
You Can Write a Column
The Everything Book of Creative Writing (or something like that)
Writing From the Heart
When Memory Speaks
How to Write the Story of Your Life
Lists to Live By
Dancing Corn Dogs In the Night
The Pocket Muse
Families Writing
and those are just the ones that popped into my head. I know there are probably three times that many if not more. No wonder bookcases are taking over the house.

I didn't realize how much I had missed having time to write until Natalie Goldberg inspired me to get the pen (fingers) moving again. I found myself not wanting to finish WDTB because I didn't want it to end. I think she felt the same way when she finished writing it. I think I would've, too. I really like her writing style.

Mire

Now would be an easy time to let the muck tire me out to the point where I just quit struggling. Wading through this can be pretty exhausting. I go a few steps and it gets a bit easier, but then they grow difficult again and I feel like I'm going backward. I may not be, but it feels like it. It's hard to stay well oriented and moving forward when the path feels like it's shifting beneath my feet.

God, are you doing the shifting, or are you just allowing it? I'm getting dizzy.

People intrigue me. Their responses to life's ups and downs are interesting to observe. Not that my own aren't equally interesting, and I have to say I have become a bit more introspective lately. We have a tendency to say pendulums swing way too far, when that is what they are designed to do. If they stopped in the middle, in the median, in the "zone", they wouldn't be pendulums. They are made to swing. Anyway, probably totally unrelated, but that's where my mind went.

Where was I? Oh, yes. People and their responses, and me and my own. I'm finding myself exploring why I do and say things I do and say habitually. There isn't a lot I do mechanically, but there are a few things. Most of what I say is fully thought-out, although now and then I do have a spontaneous (polite for "foot-in-mouth") moment of utterance where I'm stymied in regard to its catalyst. I try hard not to let that happen too often.

Secret: Sometimes I wonder if I should let it happen more often in my journals.

I set a goal in my journal writing group to write at least three times a week (and work toward more often) in a place that was neither email nor Facebook. This blog is one of the places I had in mind, along with other blogs and my paper journals. I'm trying to follow Natalie Goldberg's entreaty to keep writing, keep pushing, keep the thoughts going forward whether they seem to make sense at the moment or not. I admit some of my favorite writings to re-read are those where I've just let myself go and write, write, write without stopping to edit or make sense.

Stuck

I've fallen into a writing rut it seems. My writing feels sluggish, tight, stilted, bogged down like a bug in a Roach Motel. I'm trying to write through it. I even joined an online journaling group hoping for inspiration; thus far the other members have been very warm and welcoming, and I feel at home.

I'm trying to use terms like "very", "actually", "so",  "much", and "really" more sparingly. They've been haunting my writing and clogging it up and I'm over it.

Maybe part of the problem is that I'm uncomfortable. Like, physically uncomfortable. Cold, to be precise. As warm as our temps have been this past week, even for Florida, this office still stays pretty chilly in the mornings and evenings.

Another issue has been time. As in, there hasn't been enough of it for writing. That could be changing.

My husband and I reached a difficult decision today, for me to discontinue my private tutoring. We've been homeschooling our kids for the past 22+ years, and I only have Matt for another five months and Rosie for two more years--IF she doesn't end up going to school next year. The time is too short for me not to give my all to them. I am at peace with the decision, although I seriously hate letting people down.

Frozen Fingers

I want to write, but my fingers are freezing! I have my green plaid blankie tucked around me, but having my fingers flying across the keys (well, and the fan blowing on the computer to aid the CPU fan) is keeping them from warming up. It isn't bad enough that my brain freezes up when I sit down to my computer to write; now I have to deal with frigid fingers, too. It doesn't help that this is the draftiest room in the house, without the added fan!

I'm enjoying Natalie Goldberg's Writing Down the Bones, although I'm glad it's written in small bites (1-2 page chapters) because I can only handle so much Zen philosophy before I feel like my head is melting and I have to put the book down. I read her books like I eat fish, pulling out the tasty meat--and there is lots of it, on the topic of writing specifically--and tossing out the Eastern religion bones (irony in the term duly noted).

Right now I'm reading about allowing freedom in wording, using descriptively specific verbs, and just freeing the mind to throw out onto the page whatever wants to show itself. I've done stream-of-consciousness writing before and I have to say I've always loved the exercise. I particularly love going back later and re-reading things I don't remember writing. It's a bit like uncovering a mystery I wrote myself.

Sadness

I feel almost gripped by a heavy sadness today. I wonder if this is characteristic of menopause, or if it's just situations in my life right now. I'm taking EPO, but I will probably start taking it more regularly. I don't like this feeling. I know there are other reasons for it, though, some of which I don't feel like I can openly share in a public forum.

The good news:
Being back on the Thin Within program is going really well. It's Day 23 today. The book goes through 30 days, but the lifestyle doesn't end. I'm feeling really good about it, though, and I'm seeing tangible positive changes in my health and state of mind.

We said goodbye to T-Mobile yesterday. THANK YOU, GOD. We're back with Verizon, and LOVE IT. Steve, Rosie, and I got pretty cool phones that ended up being free. Mattie didn't get to upgrade his phone, but we're happy to all be back on Verizon together. Bless Mattie, he never complains about anything or asks for anything. Hopefully his old phone will hold out until he's up for an upgrade.

I love my kids so much. Thank you, God, for the amazing people they are.