Heart, Mind Dialogue

What if

If.
What if.
Working hard to prepare for the day "what if" happens.
Looking into my heart, I have found that I neglected to share the love she holds.
Just holding it.
Keeping it safe.
Clinging to it.  Because, what if.....

Working hard to prepare for the day "what if" happens.
Looking into my mind I found schedules, appointments, budgets and bills.
Working hard.
Making money for the day "what if" happens.
Just holding it.
Saving it.
Clinging to it. Because, what if....

"What are you waiting for?" she says.
"Well, what if..." is the reply.
"That's crazy" she says.  "The 'what if' already happened.  You got cancer, and you already got through it remember?"

Heart looks at mind as tears melt from her eyes, holds her close, hugs her tightly and says, "I love you."

"You got this," replies the mind.


A heart, mind dialogue in which I visualized my heart and mind sitting together on a bench on the top of a hill looking over Malibu Canyon towards the ocean. From this dialogue I realized that I hold on to things for fear that I won't be prepared if the cancer comes back.  I hold on to love because I don't want to be abandoned "if" I become sick.  I worked hard to earn my 3rd degree, now I work several jobs.  I save my money because I don't want to be broke and destitute "if" I am too sick to work "if" I get sick again.  While I am busy preparing for this imagined "what if," I am missing out on the precious gift of life I was blessed to have a second chance to enjoy.

For now, I am at peace with an open heart and open mind ready to receive whatever the universe has in store for me.  Because I have come to realize, once again, I have survived a time in life everyone fears, living with cancer.  And yet, I am still here.  I made it through that time with the little money I had, with the help of my son by my side, the support of friends and the love and prayers of my family, every step of the way.  I did it.  I know I could do it again.  I've been there.  Now I'm here.  The "what if" already happened.  I GOT this.

Healing HeArt Retreat with The Foundation for Living Beauty, a sisterhood of cancer survivors at the Serra Retreat Center in Malibu, California, April 2014.

A Matter of Taste

July 20, 2013

Ben and Jerry's peanut butter cup ice cream. It was all I could taste while I was on chemo. I couldn't drink tap or spring water; it had a metallic taste. I preferred purified water. I drank gallons of it and still couldn't quench my thirst or get that awful chemo taste out if my mouth. The ice cream cooled the sores in my mouth and throat and gave me the calories I needed, I suppose. 

When mom came to visit she made Sinigang full of spinach. She made Ox tail soup: the marrow was to help increase my blood count so I wouldn't end up in the hospital again. But after she left, it was always back to the ice cream. It was the easiest thing to get, and I didn't have the energy to make a meal. 

On this day I'm at yogurt land with my favorite girls. I put little peanut butter cups on top of my pistachio, coconut, mango and chocolate yogurt piles. I savored each flavor. I enjoyed the mixtures of sweet, tangy and chocolatey goodness. I crunch the peanut butter cups and make them blend with the other flavors already in my mouth. And I taste them all. Enjoying each spoonful and flavor as they make my senses come alive. In this moment, I am happy.

Today this exercise in mindfulness has reminded me of how important it is to enjoy the many flavors of life, and to remember to appreciate them. And Today,  I am grateful, I got my "taste" back.

Hair Today, Gone Yesterday

7-18-13

Brushing my hair. I love the way it feels when the bristles touch my scalp. Running my fingers through the strands, feeling like silk threads. I'm grateful for my hair. How it feels on the back of my neck and on my shoulders.

I remember how it felt to lose it. How cold my head was and how ugly I felt. I remember the tears and how I avoided the mirror. I couldn't touch it. My fingers were numb from the chemo. Each day I lost more and more until it was all gone. I tried ice packs and put on a cap to try to stop it. But lost it all. Who was that person? 

One night I caught a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror and scared myself: bald head, sunken eyes, dark circles. Was it a zombie? Was it an intruder? No...it was me. I cried and cried. I lost myself. Who is that person?

But today,  I have hair. Beautiful soft hair that still makes me cry when I brush it. But only because  I remember that girl that lost her hair. She was so sad. Now when i look close I can still see her; there she is, looking right back at me. She is in my eyes. But now she's not afraid. Because she is me, now. 

Today, I am grateful for my hair.

A New Normal

A New Normal

It’s been 4 years since I was diagnosed with breast cancer.  I was a single mother at the time, struggling with bills and supporting my son as he started college.  I was working three jobs and dealing with some other family issues.  It wasn’t the right time for me to get cancer.  But then again, there’s never a good time to get cancer.

After my surgery, chemo, radiation, I was placed on Tamoxifen every day and Zoladex injections every 3 months.  I lost my hair, eyebrows, eyelashes and my self-esteem was at its lowest.  I had a negative self-image; I battled insomnia, bone pain and depression for years following my diagnosis and treatments.  Looking back I can remember those challenges, the memory of that time is with me every day.  Once you get cancer, you never stop thinking about it.  It has become a driving force in my recovery and my transition into a new normal.

When I finished chemo and radiation, I was excited to get back to my old life. Well, what I considered normal, at the time.  But the truth is, you can’t.  What was  “normal” before, no longer exists.  It’s locked away in the past, along with the cancer. All the things you use to do before cancer shut you down, is gone.  You have to make better choices now and find a way to experience the life you have, at this very moment; and not reach back to try and start where you left off.  This is a new time for you.  One where you will learn more about yourself than you ever knew existed.  Because now you know how it felt to lose yourself and become a prisoner to the cancer.  You will soon learn to value your second chance at life.  Though you may feel like the same person on the inside.  You are not. You have to accept that in order to find the “you” you are, now, after the cancer. This is called, the new normal.

The new normal is what you decide it to be.  Starting to eat healthier, take vitamins, exercise and practice gratitude are some ways to begin your transition.  Your body has been poisoned, your muscles have begun to atrophy; it’s up to you to take back control of your own body.  Remember it takes 28 days for something to become a habit.  Why not make it one that will  improve your mind, body and soul?  Work on yourself from the inside out.  If you truly want to take your life back and start enjoying your second chance, you have to start with your body and mind. Remember, you are not the same person.  You are a new person.  Believe that, and you are ready to join me on my journey to find the new normal.