New Year

New Years is a strange holiday. I know many people who say they dread New Years Eve because it is such a let down. There is often much hype to party and celebrate, at least here in North America, to really just enjoy the beginning of something new and the end of something seems to be lost.  Personally, I have a history of hosting New Years Eve parties or get togethers; however the past few New Years have been quiet with family. In some ways, when it is quiet, I like the opportunity to reflect on the past year and to think about my goals for the upcoming year and to have quality time with those I love.
This past year, even though it appeared to be difficult with receiving treatment for cancer (and treatment for cancer is difficult, this isn't to disguise that fact), I felt like I had time to settle myself emotionally.  That I gained more opportunities to explore my creative side and really just enjoyed home life with my son. I think this past year has given me incentive to figure out how to restructure my life so that I have a better balance for myself and I look forward to seeing how this may evolve in the upcoming year; yet another benefit of dealing with cancer this year.
Happy New Years to all that may be reading.

It's the most wonderful time of the year

“It’s the most wonderful time of the year” goes the popular Christmas pop song. I actually really like Christmas.  Perhaps it is the good reason to bake and indulge with special foods. Of course the gatherings with friends and family are enjoyed, but I am aware this can cause a lot of stress: to make those now expected cookies, to buy the perfect gift, to create time to fit in everyone. So much of this is socially constructed and idealized.   And, in my head there is often the desire to choose the perfect gift (as a result I gain delight and gratitude of the recipient), sit by the perfectly decorated tree, to create the perfect Christmas get-togethers and meals. I realize this is not only for Christmas.  I’ve been feeding the ideal of perfectionism in my life for a long time.  Somewhere, probably when I was quite young, I assumed I would meet someone who I could love, marry, have a child and live happily ever after (or live a “normal” life where there are no major tragedies).

There is this sense of entitlement, rightly or wrongly, that my life should be content. Even after experiencing so much in so few years, I have often half-heartly joked I should now be free of any further misfortunate – like a get out of jail free card for the rest of my  (hopefully) many years. But is this realistic?  Would I be living and appreciating life in the way I do now if I did not experience hardship?  Or perhaps what appears as misfortune has actually provided me with something I needed and I wouldn’t have otherwise.  If I imagine a life where my husband did not die and I did not have a breast cancer diagnosis, I suppose I would have been engaged in family life and work and little else.  With my husband’s death, I turned to art and started exploring art which provided a much needed salve on my emotional pain. With my own cancer diagnosis, I have had more space to process my husband’s death, I’ve explored writing and art further, I have been more available for my son.  All of these are benefits beyond the obvious losses.
I suppose this is my argument against believing I need to create perfection - which I continue to wean myself off. Even through things appear negative, that perhaps they are good.  Perhaps I wouldn’t know such joy if I didn’t know such despair.  Perhaps all is perfect just the way it is.

The value of friendship

I’ve been thinking about the value of friendship. On the weekend, there was a gathering of friends who haven’t sat as a group in about 3 years.  I’ve had a fair bit of support from this group of friends as individuals, but for whatever reasons we haven’t meet as a group. There is something that happens with good friends. There is synergy of ideas in conversation, there is lively discussion and sometimes challenging ideas.  We share our lived experiences and hopes and joys.  The value of this kind of friendship is irreplaceable. And, in times, like I have experienced in the past few years, it is these friendships that keep me buoyant in many ways. I am certainly blessed to have so many close friends whom I have this sort of relationship with.

On a special side note, I had my first mammogram since treatment and just got the results: everything is completely clear.  Obviously I am very happy to find this out and I can feel a lightness of the relief that goes with having a clear mammogram.