Always more to learn

Today I started attending a group run by Rethink Breast cancer (www.rethinkbreastcancer.com).  I thought it would be good to have a place to meet other women/mothers who are in a similar situation.  After the first session, definitely good.  I'll be looking forward to it and my son, I think, enjoyed the children's group.
As gathering with any group of people there can be new things learned. One thing, in this group of women, there seemed to be the startling prevalence of breast cancer development while nursing; and subsequent misdiagnosis because of nursing, thus putting these particular women at further risk becasue their tumors were growing quite large at alarming rates prior to being properly diagnosed.  I know this was not the whole group's experience, and perhaps this group of women is not representative of younger women with breast cancer (although I suspect it is), but it was a theme that occurred a few times and seemed to sit with me.  Again I feel lucky that I have doctors who listened to me and were active in referring me to the high risk screening program. Again, I think that it is so important to listen to you body and be a strong advocate for yourself.

I also heard many stories that reflected my experience of treatment and the feelings of isolation as typically one's friends are not going through cancer treatment with you and although fully supportive and empathetic, it can be hard to feel others truly understand at times.  One of the neat things out of today's group was finding out about a website that is a platform for organizing volunteers, www.lotsahelpinghands.com. This site is designed to enter the e-mails for your support community and to list the tasks that you need support with.  I sure wished I knew of this site when I was first diagnosed as I had many offers to help and it would have been a way to organize them rather than just calling people ad hoc or relying on accepting whatever was being offered in the moment.

Writing of this great support through Rethink and of the new site I learned of today, reminds me of another great support, ART for Cancer Foundation, which is hosting two watercolour workshops in the next couple of weeks.  If you are in the Toronto area and interested, check out http://artforcancerfoundation.org/programs/
By the way, for people following my blog, the art exhibit through ART for Cancer Foundation went well. Here's my art on display:

The written blurb included with the art is as follows:

Somehow I came to the most unexpected, rough patch on the bumpy road of life. As a clinical social worker I thought myself fairly well resourced, but even the well resourced need to have their outlets.  Painting became mine.

My paintings reflect different points in my healing journey. I started to engage visual art during studio time while taking an Expressive Art Therapy training.  The smaller painting, Dead or Alive (oil on canvas, 8” x 10”), is my first visual art piece I created that emerged out of a movement based class that ignited an alternative reality experience that I knew I needed to paint.  At this point, I had only been writing as a means to address the loss of my husband to cancer six months before.

By springtime, about a year after my husband’s death, I was painting more abstract. I found myself playing with colours and movement on canvas, often painting in the little windows of time in my busy, hectic life.  The larger painting I call Gestation (acrylic on canvas, 24” x 30”) was created around the time I first felt some interest in actively engaging in life again.

Just under two years after my husband’s passing, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I spent time trying to release anything that could be a blockage or a detriment to my health.  In a guided meditation focused on release, I had a strong visual image of the painting that became Firewoman.  I believe this was a point of emotional and spiritual transformation which I have continued to develop as I proceed through the rigours of treatment.

When I started painting, I found that I could not stop.  Even as a single parent of a small child, I felt I needed to carve out time to have this mode of self-expression. Painting became a means of expressing what could not be expressed by words: an elixir to release the complicated emotions inside and a salve to the pain I was carrying within.

I thought I would share.  If you are interested in seeing more of my artwork, please check out my website, www.abelcreation.com

Art for Cancer

Just a quick little note.  Tomorrow is the opening of an art exhibit I will be part of.  It is by a new organization called Art For Cancer Foundation which provides art workshops for cancer patients and their caregivers.  The exhibit opens tomorrow and runs through to February 24 at the Toronto City Hall Rotunda.

trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=oiCN6avKrl8
website: http://artforcancerfoundation.org/
listing of event: https://wx.toronto.ca/festevents.nsf/a2f14808aae0d4f1852572ff0066124a/ab754150d3bf6214852579a000417a9f?OpenDocument

 

If you are interested in seeing more of my art, please see my newly launched website: www.abelcreation.com

Sharing of yourself

Today is another day for gratitude and appreciation for stories.

I, again, met someone who was widowed at a young age. I see this as something remarkable.  In some ways before I was widowed, I don’t really recalling meeting young people who were widowed on a somewhat regular basis.  Perhaps I just didn’t note the people’s circumstances, but truly, even of clients, as a social worker, I recall only meeting a small handful of people who describe their life story as having been widowed at a young age.  Yet, nonetheless, I’ve been meeting widowed people all over the place it seems.  Just in the past month I met two older women who were widowed young. I listened to what they revealed about themselves with great interest.  Both had a multitude of children (one had 9 when she was widowed, the other 6). One had had a number of partners since and the other I’m not quite sure, both now have grandchildren and even great grandchildren. One was met at a cancer related workshop.  What both have given me is perspective. At times I feel I struggle with one child to raise on my own, how about nine? Of course there are unique aspects to each.  With multiple children you have older kids who can help with the younger kids and the older children have much to share about their father with the younger kids. But that is also 10 mouths to feed and a home to keep large enough for ten. Anyway, the most important thing is perspective.

One thing I have become even more aware of, and it seems silly to write this as a therapist, is how all of us have a story.  What seems clear to me is that few of us share our stories. Even fewer share publicly, although, that may be changing with this world of internet.  Again and again I have been meeting people whom I have the greatest admiration for given the challenges of their story.  I think, perhaps, these stories of tragedy and triumph are actually quite common, but for some reason no one lets on this is the pain they carry with them and of the strengths that carried them through tough times.  I think if we are more able to share our lived experiences in various ways (in creative, not overbearing or in needy, ways) that perhaps, it is gift that we are sharing with others:  to inspire, to help them through tough times, to help each other understand that we are not alone. In a way, it is an act of love to take the opportunity to give the gift of sharing of yourself.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Another noted change

Today it is a glorious day outside. Warm for winter, the sun is shining and there is not a cloud in the sky.  There seems to be an edge of spring in the air and I’ve enjoyed the freshness when I was outside.  Today is also my birthday, Happy Birthday to me J  I have noted that I have made changes in how I perceive my world.  I suppose this is one of the changes of having a cancer diagnosis and subsequent treatment.  I believe that in past, my birthday would be a day to reflect and do something special for myself, which I have done today thus far.  But how I would do things for myself has changed.  In past, I would want to spend time with family and friends (check, that remains), and I would try and do something indulgent and take a break.

Today my indulgence is having a day free of arguments with my son (i.e. to not nag about his dawdling, mess-making etc.), to go to the restorative yoga class I’ve been attending, to spend some time writing and painting, take my son to his ski lesson and have dinner with my family at my aunt’s house.  My meals I have chosen to be more health focused. The past couple days had already kicked off the birthday celebrations and I was feeling heavy and not as energetic, so this morning I chose to juice (beet, carrot, swiss chard and apple) with a slice of banana bread for my breakfast and have a smoothie filled with sprouts and fruit for lunch. In past as indulgence I would celebrate by eating rich foods with abandon and not care how it was going to impact me. In past I would take a break by skipping yoga class and being more of a physical “vegetable” that day.  I think my mentality was I was taking a break from those activities to give myself a treat.  Now I see eating energy rich foods and giving my body more stuff to fuel its good health is celebrating me in the best way I can.

Art for Cancer Workshop

This past Monday I took part in a workshop by Art For Cancer (www.artforcancerfoundation.org).  It was definitely a great way to meet other cancer survivors/patients/warriors (as one participant described herself). One of the interesting things was most of the participants I talked to thought they were in pretty good shape and we each felt blessed. I even met others who have lost loved ones to cancer when they were younger.  It was reassuring in a way to meet them and know that one does have a life after such tragedy.

The workshop consisted of learning some basic painting techniques, a meditation and gaining a piece of art by the end. I got to work with a palette knife for the first time.  I wished there was more time or more of an ongoing class than a workshop for a few hours. Here is my piece of art from the workshop:

I’ll soon be writing more about Art for Cancer as I’ll be part of the Art for Cancer Foundation art exhibit at Toronto City Hall Rotunda from Feb 17 – 24, 2012.  Here’s a trailer to the show:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oiCN6avKrl8&feature=player_embedded&noredirect=1

If you are interested, the art show is in a public space, so you can come by to check it out any time if you are in the Toronto vicinity.  And, also if in the Toronto area and you would like to be present for the opening night and silent auction to support Art For Cancer and future workshops, please contact me and I will e-mail you the e-vite

Clutter

Today I have decided to tackle some of the clutter in my home.  Let me tell you about this clutter.  I tend to save almost everything thinking I can reuse it in some project somewhere down the road. I am generally better with bills and the obvious things not to keep. With some of this clutter came the chaos that occurred in my life.  With the chaos came my benevolent friends who literally packed up and unpacked my belongings when I sold my condo and bought my current abode. I am eternally grateful for all the help I received as I would not have been able to do it on my own. 

What also came with this was as I settled into my home were two piles of boxes: one in my bedroom closet and one in the basement.  Truly these piles were out of hand. But they were big enough that I didn’t feel I could tackle them in one evening and with a small child around I didn’t want to do it in chunks as he would get into stuff and it could easily become a bigger mess.  Now, I think I’m a bit pass that, if my son gets into the pile, so be it, I will work through it anyways the next day, and I'm sure I will be working through these piles for days.  It was a little more difficult to be so cavalier when I was obliged to be at work daily and every hour seemed to be accounted for.

So what’s with these piles? Literally, to this day there are boxes that I have not yet gone through and sorted through the contents. Albeit, many of boxes have stuff of my life with my husband in them.  There are Rubbermaid containers containing his clothes (these I still won’t sort though and I feel they are for my son to see if he wants anything of his dad’s when he is old enough to make that decision). Then there are the bits and pieces of stuff from our wedding... like cardstock and ribbon leftover from our handmade wedding invitations, and other similar bits and pieces from our life lived together.  It is weird, that it has been almost three years since my husband passed (now longer than the time we were married) and in some ways it feels like I am on some sort of archeological dig of a life lived long ago. At the same time, I am crying through these little bits as I sort through them.  There is happiness in these tears because our time together was so good, so precious, and enriching; with that comes the missing and grief that continues to live with me.

Cleaning and sorting clutter can be like that.  I recall early after my diagnosis that I read in one of the “helpful” pamphlets that the hospital gives the newly diagnosed, a suggestion to start sorting through clutter so if you die you loved ones will have less to do.  I think I threw that pamphlet out immediately as I was so insulted that I would have to think about death at this point in my life. Also, I was totally emotionally unprepared to embark on these boxes. But somehow, a full year later, this suggestion comes to mind today, and I think of how for anyone going through clutter is a trip down memory lane, that there is a lot of emotions for anyone’s clutter and we all have sentimental attachments.

The space in between

This is a strange stage in regards to dealing with cancer. I am done the heavy duty treatment and I am somewhat recovered from the intense impact on the body from the heavy duty treatments.  I continue to take Herceptin and I have fatigue still, manageable if I plan my day out.  I’ve tried going without a nap, but I have discovered that doesn’t work so well, and I need to be on for my son in the evenings. I have had a clear mammogram and I generally feel pretty good.  I am starting to embark on more art and writing, or at least figure out how to put more of that into my days.  I continue to try and eat well, exercise pretty much daily and enjoy as much as possible out of life.  It seems to be a stage where I’m not quite ready to take on the intensity of being back at work  and managing as a single parent of a small child, but I am more able to engage life (outside of cancer) again.

I was wondering how this fits with the metaphor of this blog.  That this almost feels like I’m starting to finally emerge from the chrysalis at this point. Perhaps I was in the cocoon, before while really engaged with treatments, even while grieving. Now it feels like I’m starting to go and meet the world, a new world that I’m just getting to know, my old world seems to be fading away. I’m noticing that my whole world is shifting and that my direction and path may be changing.  There are some connections that I have made recently that I am meeting with optimism.   At this point, I don’t know for sure and I don’t want to write on what I hope to happen, but I am feeling positively optimistic about the potential opportunities and happy about impending change. But, that is part of life and being anyway.  It is really an illusion to believe that we know how our life is going to be.  And even though I may have a vision for my future, I don’t really know how that will come to fruition. The best I can do is engage life as fully as possible and live for the moment. Even as I write this, I am at my mechanic’s waiting for him to take a look at my car.  I could be unprepared and sit, bored, but I decided to bring my computer, a notepad, a book and see what I can create while here.  I have discovered that creating is my passion and it is best to access creativity as much as possible.

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.