Be Your Own Best Friend

Read that title again… “Be Your Own Best Friend”…Think about it. What comes to mind for you when you read that sentence? Who comes to mind? What does your best friend mean to you? What do they bring to your life? What is their purpose for being in your life? Sit with that for a minute, maybe take a moment to write in your journal who that person, or people, are to you and why.

Now, what if that person, that best friend, was actually YOU?! Are you thinking, ”how do I do that?” If so then wow do we have a lot to unpack ! lol Or maybe you’re thinking, “ I already am my own best friend”. Whatever your answer may be, I want you to think about how you’re actually feeling in this moment when you read it. Does it make you feel emotional in any way? I’ve got all the questions!

I would wager to think that most of you reading this thought about an actual person when you read the first paragraph of this blog. And while I love that you love your friends and family as much as you do and in all the ways that you do, I’d really love for you to feel the same way about yourself first. Many people ( me included )spend so much time thinking, worrying, caring and being supportive of others that there rarely leaves room for us to worry, support, care for and love ourselves. That means, all the things you’d tell your best friend when they are down, sad, lonely, frustrated etc, you rarely do for yourself.

Many of us have grown up with this quality, putting others before ourselves, and that’s wonderful, but when push comes to shove, we also need to remember that we must come first. I’ve been sick, in one way or another, for a long time now. My body has been doing its bloody best to hold me up at every doctors appointment, every surgery, and every emotional test. Now if we break that down, there really isn’t anyone else to thank for that. Yes, my family and loved ones have been there to support and love me, and I appreciate them all for doing so, but they can’t take the illness away, they can’t be there to hold my hand during doctors appointments, and they most certainly aren’t in my head and therefore in control of my emotions. So that leaves it to me, and that’s a good thing.

Humans have a weird and wonderful thing called intuition, or gut instinct as we like to call it. And yet, we find ourselves asking for the advice or opinion of a trusted loved one for many things. Or maybe its quite the contrary for some( you know who you are) that don’t utilize the advice from others enough. But have you ever stopped to really look inward first before picking up that phone and calling that trusted person? Why is it that you’ve chosen to ask someone else about a decision you should be able to make on your own? What happened to trusting yourself…

We live in a world that everything is at our fingertips. Every single thing, for the most part, that we want to know, is easily accessible, so why do we even need to think for ourselves when we’ve got so much exterior help. Now I’m not saying not to call your friend when you’re having a bad day or need relationship advice. Or not to call your mom for that family recipe, and most certainly don’t “doctor google” your health concerns. BUT what I am saying is, trust YOURSELF. Know when you need the help but also trust in your gut instincts, be the emotional support you need. There is just as much strength in asking for help as there is in finding it within.

All of this comes with a certain form of confidence, that I also believe so many people, and not just women, don’t have. A lack of confidence in knowing who you are at the true deep core of your self and soul. I think because the world provides so much extra and added pressure, we can tend to forget that if it all came crumbling down around us one day, we would have to rely upon and trust ourselves. And that’s a great thing! I think we’ve forgotten how to keep things simple, scrapping things back to the basics, and learning how to trust our gut, instead of constantly searching for answers outside ourselves.

So much like asking ourselves what we would do if our best friend needed help or advice, most likely we wouldn’t google the answer. We would think about what we’ve learned through our trials and tribulations in our own lives. What books we’ve read, or what we’ve taken from therapy, or even other conversations that we’ve had with other friends and then we will give the best advice we can based off that. So how come it is that we feel the need, to feel a tad less confident in ourselves, to make our own educated answers or responses or even choices , to things when we need it most.

I know for me, I learned at a very young age to peace make ( we will get into that one later), and many times I was “told” how I should be thinking or feeling about something. SO as years have gone on, I then would seek out answers from others, in a way disconnecting my own responses or even reactions, to make others happy. Which only lead me to a place of most likely insecurity or lack of self confidence in the choices that could potentially make me the most happy. And I don’t want that for any of you who may be reading this.

So going forward, I’d like you to do something for me. I’d like for you to be your own best friend. Be kind to yourself, caring and loyal. Trust your own thoughts so that any decisions you make, are done with confidence and a sense of security. Because when the day is said and done, all you really have is yourself, and if you love that “self”, then your advice and the power behind it, will be 100% genuine and real, and no one can argue with that!

Lets Get Into It ( Part 3 )

June 11th is a date I will never forget. That was my surgery date for my “radical hysterectomy”. Billy and I had to prepare ourselves to stay in Auckland for a week. We booked a hotel which we couldn’t afford at that time, but it was directly across from the hospital and therefore convenient for Billy to come and go easily. I remember the drive to Auckland was pretty quiet. I asked Billy how he was feeling about things and he just seemed distant about it, like he had nothing to say at all about it. I remember that I told him that I was going to need him more then I had ever needed him before, and that when he saw me struggling and trying to dig deep for myself, that I needed him to step in and dig deeper for the both of us. I needed him to take his turn at holding us both up, that I didn’t know what to expect, but that I would most likely need him and rely on him in more ways then one. I thought this would give him purpose, and a logical way to see outside himself and his dark thoughts for a change. He just said,” of course my love”. It’s not like we had family here, or even very many friends really. So I knew we would be doing this thing alone. And I was ready for that. My folks offered to come back, and wanted to, but I just knew that I couldn’t cope if they had. I had enough on my plate with Billy and worried about his mental health and then there was my cancer to think about, which to be brutally honest, almost felt like it was an after thought most of the time.

The hotel was nice enough. When we arrived and booked in, we decided to go to a pub for a drink and one last greasy meal before my very early start and surgery the next day. I had been told prior that due to the expected length of the surgery, there would only be three performed that day, and it was based on a first come, first serve basis. As if it were some sort of a buffet or something! It was as though we knew what was coming, without actually knowing what was coming, and just trying to keep things as “ordinary” as we could. When we got back to the hotel, we had a glass of wine, and it was like Billy just wasn’t even there with me. He was shut off or perhaps even subdued, and seemed more interested in his bottle of red then he was about consoling me. Now I know my husband better then he knows himself, so I could let this worried behaviour for me go. I remember I made him come to bed and cuddle me. He wanted to stay up and shut off from it all, but I didn’t want or need that for either of us! So he came to bed, less than enthusiastic about it, and I just remember feeling like this was going to take more out of me then just having a physical surgery.

I don’t think I got much sleep that night, so the next morning I just wanted to get showered with the pre surgery shower clothes and get to the hospital to get that first appointment, so I could get this shit show on the road! Once we arrived at the hospital, I in fact was the first to arrive, so that meant I could get prepped for the first surgery appointment, which to me meant, that would be the first step in my road to recovery. I was given my own room where I could change and get ready, and that was my room for the whole hospital stay. As far as views in a big city go, it was actually pretty cool view. I could see the Sky Tower, and also the hospital helicopter pad from just outside my window. Before they came to get me, I remember a health student came to my room to ask me if I would sign over the rights to whatever they found during surgery, so it could be used for further research. I of course agreed but remember thinking, the timing wasn’t ideal, but would there ever have been an ideal time?! I was just trying to stay calm, and also stay calm for Billy’s sake. I didn’t want him to see any type of emotion on my face other then, “ we’ve got this”.

As they began to wheel me out of my room, I gave Billy orders to go back to the hotel and not forget to bring back my packed bag, so when I was out of surgery I could set things up how I’d like them for my stay. He seemed so calm… but I knew there was more to that look on his sweet face, and it made me start to cry. I told him I loved him, and we said we’d see each other soon. I vaguely remember his little smile and him saying, “ you’ll be alright”, and I in turn said, “ yes, and YOU”LL be alright”. And just like that, off I went. I was given both an iv in my arm and also an epidural for the pain medication. I was more worried about the idea of an epidural, never having had one before. Typical to me, I was asking a ton of questions, and getting to know the “team”, as they were hooking me up to every needle, tube, and connection. I also remember we were all laughing and carrying on, and that was before the gas!

When I eventually came to after my 4 hour surgery, I was so groggy but loved the feeling. I didn’t feel sick or sore at all ( I knew that would come in due time). I recall saying to the lovely nurse in my drugged up state,” this reminds me of the old days, waking up after a big night and not remembering a thing! “ She laughed and asked me if I wanted a drink, I then laughed and said, “ that’s what used to get me in trouble!”( you’ve got to have a sense of humor with things!) When I was eventually wheeled up to my room, Billy wasn’t there. He didn’t come until the evening. He had received the call after my surgery letting him know it went well and I was fine and in the recovery room. But for some reason, he didn’t come until later that evening. And when he did, he didn’t stay long. It was as though he just didn’t know what to do. He had never had to care for someone like this before, so it was very foreign, plus his state of mind wasn’t good. When he brought me my bag, I had a photo frame with pictures of my niece and nephew in it. So it was their beautiful smiling faces that I saw every day. They were there with me and they didn’t even know it. But it brought me such comfort. And that’s all that I needed.

After Billy had left the day of surgery, and the hospital was quiet, that’s when I started to feel sick. It was around 11 pm or so, and man was I sick! My nurse bell had been in an awkward position behind me, so I couldn’t reach it, and I didn’t have the strength to really call out loudly. So I just kept repeating…” nurse, nurse, excuse me nurse”, until finally someone heard me. She had said I threw up A LOT! I took her word for it because it was black and ALL over my chest. The first night itself, wasn’t so bad. The pain was getting stronger as things were wearing off, but I was managing. Except when it came time to trying to get up. For some reason, I had the worst pain on my right lower abdomen. It felt like I was being ripped wide open every time I tried to stand. But I managed to get into my chair by the window the next morning.

I had surgery on the Monday and the hope is to have you discharged on the Friday, providing you’re up and walking and all is well. The second day of recovery had come around and I was in so much pain, that I was majorly struggling to get up and get moving. Now I’m as stubborn as an old mule, so I wanted to get up and get moving, for my own sake, but this pain in my abdomen just wouldn’t allow it. So the pain team, reassessed my pain medication and tried something new which they put in via my epidural ( please excuse my lack of proper medical terminology !). Well that really screwed things up! In fact, this change in medication, completely numbed the entire right side of my body! I was so freaked out! I couldn’t hold my own weight whatsoever, and it was time for a shower. I’ll never forget the series of events that would follow for the rest of my life.

Three lovely nurses came into my room to get me up and ready for my shower. They were a bit older, but all so sweet. They wheeled that assless wheelchair thing over to the side of my bed, where I proceeded to tell them that something was wrong with my pain medication and I couldn’t feel the right side of my body, but that we could work together to get me in the shower. Well, they were just not in sync with one another, they dropped my naked busted up post surgery ass right on the floor, NEXT to the assless wheel chair thing. I whelped in pain! They tried to scramble and get me back up and sat on the edge of my bed. To which I then said, “ ok ladies, we can do this, but lets try something different shall we?!”. I asked that they turn the chair so I could try and use my upper body to scooch into the chair with their help. We did it! Mission accomplished! A little while later in the day, a nurse was doing her rounds with me, and I could smell my husband before I saw him. I had given my nurse a heads up about my husbands mental state, so I asked that she please give me some time with him. He walked over to the chair, took his jacket off, and then took his hat off. He looked and smelled like absolute shit! So very calmly I said, “ are you ok babe?”. He didn’t even speak, he just started to cry. I asked him to come to me, so he drug the chair across the room to the left side of my bed, I opened my arms to him, and he fell into my chest and quietly said,” I’m no good to you, I’m no good to myself, I don’t know why I’m even HERE”. Let me tell you all who are reading this now, this was the very moment I had a feeling would come, but wished it wouldn’t. The moment when I knew for a fact, that I had to rely on myself to dig deeper for us both. That I truly was on my own with this. He didn’t have anything to give to me. And I don’t mean that in a hurtful way, he wanted to, but he just couldn’t. It’s almost hard to fully explain. He had decided that all of THIS was just too hard, and that a bottle of whiskey was going to be the answer. But I just wasn’t going to accept that.

So now here I was lying in a hospital bed, across the world from all of the people who meant the most to me and who love me dearly. Struggling with the loss of feeling down one side of my body, having my insides taken out because I had cancer, and now trying to figure out how best to navigate things with my husband who was so deep into his depression, that for the rest of the week, I would only be worried about him in a hotel room alone, doing god knows what. And just hoping that I wasn’t going to be sitting in that bed trying to rest and recover, truly alone, to find that he chose to take his life, because it was all too hard and I wasn’t able to be there to help. So, with him in my arms, I decided to get a bit tough love with him. I showed him my scar, to wake him up a little. I calmly said, “ I’m fine, we’re going to be fine. Now look at me, you HAVE to get your shit together, I need you. No more booze. I want you here in the mornings visiting me, and I will tell you when you can go. I also want you back to keep me company during the days. “ So moving forward, he gave me my showers ( lets just say it may have been easier to have the nurses do it, but I needed to give him a job to focus on), he helped get me up when my medication screw up was fixed, and things got a bit better.

When Friday rolled around, which was discharge day, the head of anesthesiology came to my room. He very frankly said, “well Mrs Parsons you’ve had a hell of a time haven’t you! “ I laughed and thought, “if you only knew the whole story Doc”. He proceeded to apologize for the major screw up in my medication( as did my surgeon by the way, she was so pissed off she made the team apologize to my face during morning rounds and said this is what happens when they don’t consult with her first lol ) He had also said that he didn’t want to discharge me yet because of it. That I should stay to have the care, and to help me get more mobile. I declined and said I was ready to go home, to my own bed and shower. But truthfully, I just knew that Billy wouldn’t handle much more. I needed him to get back into a routine at home. So that’s what we did. We pillowed up my stomach, had a couple stops along the way to get me out of the car to help with potential clotting and home to my couch.

The first week home was tough. Billy was working and then having to come home and take care of the household stuff that I would normally do. This only lasted a couple weeks because he was on overload with it all. So I went against doctors orders and did mostly everything I wasn’t supposed to be doing. Cooking, tidying, driving…I even did wood! I was struggling to sleep in bed, so I just set up shop on the couch. It was lower and I could get on and off it better. Plus our main source of heat was the wood fire in the living room, which I could then keep going during my sleepless nights. We were trucking along with this recovery business. I was giving myself shots in the stomach every day for clot prevention( which by the way began to hurt like hell and I dreaded giving them to myself towards the end of the month), had myself on a regular pain medication schedule to try and keep the pain at bay, and started going to a steps class put on for us recovering. I hated it, but it gave me something to do, and it felt good to get the heart rate pumping. I also got Billy into men’s yoga ( which he fought me on every time he went but then learned to really love it), I also hired a young guy to come and give him private guitar lessons, so he would have things just for himself and things to focus on other then his depression and caring for me. We just had to get on with things the best way we could. Life had to keep moving along. I had a couple girlfriends that came to visit every now and then, a lovely dear couple that we have grown so close to, gave us a helping hand and some beautiful flowers, and kiwi mum and dad were there to help if/when we needed as well. Overall, things could have been worse, and life was beginning to move a bit. We thought, surely this is it now, Billy was dealing with depression, I had shingles and cancer. How much more physically and emotionally were we supposed to handle? Well I can tell you this, it most certainly hasn’t stopped there…

Lets get Into It ( Part 2 )

Just shy of being here a year in New Zealand, my folks came for a month long visit. It was a SUPER busy, non stop month, packed full of exploring as much of this gorgeous country as we could cram in. Both Billy and myself were working full time. I was working less during my folks stay so I could drive them around and make memories with them. But during this time, I was feeling so beyond exhausted. I just chalked it up to being a lot with managing their month long stay, working a food and beverage job that was quite demanding in many ways, supporting my husband who was struggling with his depression and all that came along with that, plus he was working full days in a job he wasn’t happy at and then coming home to cook dinner for my family. It was just… a lot. And let’s be real here, there was also that element of navigating how to coexist with my parents, after not having to do that for years, and with a husband in tow. We are different people, cut from the same cloth maybe, but different colors in so very many ways. So it was a bit challenging to say the least. Lets cut the shit here, we all love our families, but that doesn’t make it any easier to live with them!

I remember towards the end of their stay here, we had gone north to a little camping place that we really love here. We had rented a couple cabins, went deep sea fishing for snapper, walked some really beautiful beaches and combed them for fresh pipi’s and mussels, had dinner at my absolute favorite surfside beach restaurant and chatted with strangers, which seems to be one of my families many past times. One morning I remember getting up and ready for the day, and I said to my husband, “I can’t stop bleeding, and I’m exhausted”. We just figured it was because I had been on the go so much and my body was pushing back a bit. So I just got on with it.

My parents left New Zealand the end of February and we just got on with life here. I went back to work, but the days seemed beyond long for me. I would get home and hit the couch. In early April 2018 I finally got myself to my GP to discuss how I had been feeling and had a pap smear done. Now here is where things start to go pear shaped, and my memory of dates and procedures is a bit blurred. It wasn’t that long after my GP appointment, that I got a call stating that I had “abnormal cervical cells” and that I was being referred to have a colposcopy, which is basically a diagnostic procedure that visually examines the cervix, vagina and vulva using something called a colposcope. Those results came back, and weren’t in my favor so then I had what’s called a LEETZ procedure done. This procedure also wasn’t a good time, its where they use an electrical wire loop to remove the abnormal cervical cells that will then be sent to a lab for biopsy testing afterwards. Now before I continue on, I want to point out that going forward I went to many of my health appointments alone. My husband was struggling, as we know, and he had a job that we decided we didn’t want him to take too much time away from. Partly because they were a shitty company and not very understanding, but also because having him keep a sort of “normal” routine was what we both needed for him. But really, what I wasn’t saying to him at the time was, “yes I would love to have your support and have you be there with me to hold my hand”, but by him staying busy at work meant I then knew his mind couldn’t focus on “the hard stuff”. And what appointments he did manage to come to, he wasn’t present or patient, so it was just easier to go it alone. ( Just a side note, I’m not shitting on my husband here, I’m just trying to paint the true picture as best I can, he did all that he could, and that had to be enough and I wouldn’t expect anything else, at that point in time)

While I was waiting for the LEETZ procedure results, we just did life. I was working full time, still doing road trips and going to the beach. We moved house for the third time, and it wouldn’t be the last. Results seemed to take ages to come back, but I stayed positive. And then on the 23rd of May 2018, I got “the” call. Shit was about to get more real then ever before. What became my oncology/gynecology nurse, Steph, had been the one on the other end of the receiver. I was at home. When I heard her sweet, soft and kind voice on the phone, I just knew. And it’s a phone call I will never forget.

Steph: “ Hi Shannon, how are you?”

Me: “ Yeah I’m alright, you’re calling to tell me I have cancer”

Steph: “Are you alone? “

Me: “ Yes”

Steph: “ Do you want me to wait for Billy to be home with you?”

Me: “ No, I’m fine “

Steph: “ Are you sitting?”

Me: “ No, I have a feeling what’s coming so let’s just talk about it”

Steph: “ Ok, but only if you’re sure, I’m happy to wait for Billy to come home and be with you”

Me: “ No that’s ok, it’s not going to change anything, let’s just do this”.

I stayed calm, and only began to shed a very slow little tear. She asked if I was ok, and I reassured her I was fine. She gave me the low down on what was going to happen next and going forward. She had said that there were only 7 surgeons in all of New Zealand that do this procedure, and that 4 of those were in Auckland. That my case would go to the board who sit once a week on a Wednesday, it would be reviewed and then I would be given a date to come to Auckland to discuss my options and my procedure. Things are a bit foggy with me now in terms of dates etc, so somewhere between getting this call and June 11th I went to Auckland where I spent an entire day doing pre surgery testing, paperwork, physical exams, and meeting my surgeon. She was an East Indian lady, very straight forward and to the point, which I can totally relate to, so was really thankful to have her. However, when it came time to ask me about having children, her delivery of this sensitive subject was a tad brutal, shall we say. I’ll never forget it. In that moment, I felt like a number, which given the circumstances, wasn’t the best feeling I’ve ever experienced. While we were talking through what’s been found on my cervix, her doing drawings to best explain it all to me, she then stopped and said…” Right so what about having children? Have you talked about the fact that you now won’t be doing that?” Just like that! Boom, slapped in the face with infertility. I remember Billy was sitting to my left, and he gently placed his hand on my leg for reassurance. I had wanted children. Matter of fact, I always thought I’d have at least one child of my own. But that wasn’t to be. So sitting there in that office, sweating, and tears starting to well up in my eyes from heartbreak, the surgeon then looked at me and said so gruffly, “ do we need to come back to this because you’re not ready?!”. It was as though, I just took a deep breath and drew my tears back into my eye sockets, and I said,” nope, let’s keep going.

It was such a long confronting day, and I was exhausted from it all, both physically and mentally. So was Billy. He was just so shut off from it. He almost seemed annoyed. I remember we even fought when we arrived at the appointment. He needed to have a smoke before we went in for MY brutally long day (now I know he would have been feeling some sort of way towards it all as well, but I needed to be there for ME) to talk about having my insides taken out, and I just didn’t have the patience for his mood and stupid smoking addiction/habit. So I said, “ Have a fucking cigarette and calm down, this isn’t about you! And hurry up!” A girl can only take so much! At that point, I was doing my best to hold myself together, and I didn’t know if I had it in me to hold him together as well. (Later on I learn the hard way, that I do). And like you’d handle a child, I even had a lunch packed for him, with water, snacks and a book to help keep him occupied so I could ignore what he was going through and focus on myself with this daunting day that would be ahead. And what a day it was! I even remember being ushered out of the office with my surgeon, to have a VERY unexpected rectal exam. This would be the beginning of the end of my modesty. Or what little bit I had left.

This photo was taken minutes after I received the dreaded call

I can’t remember how I got the surgery appointment date, but once I had that I almost felt better. It was like knowing that date meant we could finally get to the bottom of me not feeling good and just move on from it all. It was like I was thinking I just couldn’t wait to get it all over with so I could have my life back. Like somehow, having a quick surgery was going to fix all my health issues and my life would go back to being full of adventure. Wow… let me tell you, was I wrong!

I took this selfie about an hour after the dreaded phone call. I firstly called my folks and told them the news, had a moment of tears, and then ten minutes later I took myself to the bathroom, looked at myself in the mirror and said, “come on Shannon, it’s time to get your shit together!’ I showered, did my hair and makeup, went for a nice coffee and a walk around the lake.

Let's Get Into It ( Part One )

My husband Billy and I were living in Calgary, Alberta, Canada. We were planning our wedding back home on my parents farm on the east coast in Nova Scotia. After the wedding we wanted to make a life change. So we were looking online at potential rentals/ property on the east coast, to check out while we were on our wedding /vacation, when an ad popped up for skilled shortages in New Zealand. We looked at each other and said…”let’s move to New Zealand!” So we opted for dumbing the wedding down to save money and kept the idea in our back pocket. We got married in August of 2016 and after the wedding headed back out to Calgary to prepare for our big life change. We sold everything we owned and stored a few bits and pieces. 7 months later and 5 bags in total of clothing and shoes( because lets face it neither of us was willing to leave our beloved footwear behind :) we arrived in New Zealand.

When we got off the plane, we were smacked in the face with heat and humidity. It was amazing! Plus, all of our luggage had arrived with us safely, which we all know is one of the many issues when flying anywhere, EVER! We had accommodation booked and grabbed a cab to the motel. When we arrived, the front door was shut and locked, the lights were dim, and there was no one to let us in or even speak to. So we waited, in the very early morning hours, in the dark, in a car park. Eventually, a couple hours later, someone did come to let us in, but not to check us in! We still had to wait for that. We had seen a sign for a Denny’s down the road, so we asked if we could at the very least, store our luggage in the office until check in and the lovely front desk girl said, “no worries!”. We changed out of our hot sweaty travel clothes, grabbed our valuables, and went to Denny’s for some breakfast and to waste the time away. It was that early that it seemed the rest of the world hadn’t woken yet, so we were patient…tired but patient. We were just glad to have arrived safely and hey, we were on our way to starting a new life in beautiful New Zealand!

When the sun had fully come up, we checked into our 2 star Motel for our 2 day stay. Billy slept for 16 hours, and I was still buzzing from all the travel and big life change. So true to me, I got chatting with the front desk lady and any strangers I met. Our plan was to buy a car, which we did the very next day, and we headed to the city of Hamilton. I like to “wing it” when I travel, so we didn’t bother to pre book a long term rental property for when we arrived. Plus we didn’t even know where we were going to end up, so figured we’d just rock up and explore, get a feel for things and figure something out when the time came. We very quickly realized that we were shit out of luck when it came to finding some place to live. It was rowing season and apparently the whole area books up quickly and completely.

So the first thing we did was head to the mall and bought a cell phone. We sat in the underground parking lot and I googled and called every place I could find. The phone had very limited battery as it was brand new and not fully charged, and just like my husbands patience at this point, it was going dead fast. So he ran back into the mall to grab a charger. A few more calls later and I finally hit the jackpot! A lovely lady didn’t have anything available for us but put us on to an older couple that had just opened their AirBnb and we were the second couple to stay there. What was supposed to be 2 days, ended up being 2 weeks, and to this day we have a wonderful friendship with the owners and lovingly call them our “kiwi mom and dad”.

Billy and I found a little country cottage to move into, but it wasn’t quite what we had hoped for, so it didn’t take us long to move. We found another place to move into, right in town, and life was moving along. Or so I thought. But Billy had been struggling. He just wasn’t happy. He seemed so annoyed, distant, emotionless and even disconnected. And one Sunday afternoon, after his shower, he was in the bedroom for what was longer then normal. I went in to check on him and he was in bed, naked in fetal position, crying is eyes out. It almost broke my heart, and it was all I could do to hold back my own tears. I just held him and asked what was wrong. He caught his breath and simply said…” I don’t know, but I can’t live like this”. So I wiped his tears, got him up and he took it upon himself to google “depression.co.nz” and took the quiz on the website. All signs led to depression, but he wanted to go to the doctor to be sure. We made an appointment and sure enough, he was diagnosed with depression and placed on medication. From there on out…our lives changed, majorly. The events that followed were either going to make or break us.

Billy was really suffering. He had a job in his plumbing field but it wasn’t in the commercial side of things, which didn’t align with what we were told and therefore expected before coming here. With his mental health the way it was, he really struggled with the changes. He slept, A LOT! He was very emotional and often cried from his own frustrations. He felt very overwhelmed and had little to no motivation. All he wanted to do was be in bed, or lay on the couch, and he was always cold. So I went to the library, and did some research of my own around mental health. I took some books out in which Billy and I both read, I wanted to make sure I was following along so we were both on the same page, literally. I got him into counselling sessions, which I joined in on for support. But I let Billy lead his journey. He had to be the one to put in the work to tap into the “why’s, where’s, and how’s” of his depression, so he had the tools to help himself on this long road.

While Billy was working, I did my best to set up our life here in NZ. I just wanted to take as much pressure off him as I could. I also wanted to still make sure that he was kept in the loop of things, and had a say on our lives. The last thing he needed was to feel more like an outsider of his own life. So I did, and still do my best, which to be honest, isn’t always as simple as it sounds. But we got where we needed to be then, and the road is looking shorter every day! During the day I would text or call Billy while he was at work to check in on him. There were many days he would break into tears, or find the most simplest of things too hard. I remember one day thinking, “he has to get to a place that he can learn to be present in his own moments, and find the positive in those times”. So I began asking him randomly, to tell me three positive things about his day. He tried to be sweet and say something about me being there for him, but I wouldn’t let him use that as an easy way out. He had to stop, think about his day, and really look outside himself for the answers. He didn’t want to see people, leave the house ( other than to go to work and even that was a push). But we just kept at it, and we got there. I will never forget the day that I asked him about his three positives and he started by saying..” when I left for work this morning I heard a rooster across the paddock, I don’t remember ever hearing that rooster.” But I can tell you all, that rooster had been there for weeks. This was a major win!

I wanted to make sure that he knew that we would get there together as a team. I made sure that he never felt alone, that he always felt supported by me and loved without judgement. After all he was still the man I married, he just needed a safe place to allow himself to fall and be held. From everything I now know, those that suffer from mental illness need to know that there are others that care for them. That they can trust to open up to someone fully and completely. Like many of us, we need to dig up all the “stuff” that is deep within us and talk about it. My husband is one of the most quiet people I know. Throw in the male ego on top of that, and this lends itself to one’s inner critic trying to run the whole show. But I have to be honest in saying, that I come from a tough love family. And while there is a place for that in this world, and I most definitely have used some tough love on my husband( and still do ), there were many times that just wouldn’t be the answer. He didn’t want to become a hermit in his own life. He didn’t want to be so emotional and almost feel scared of his own life. And he most certainly didn’t want his wife to see him in any state that may be deemed as “weak”.

We live in a world that TELLS us that we should, “toughen up, get over it, have a cup of concrete and harden up”. But so many don’t ask themselves how in the hell could this be useful? It’s like TELLING someone to feel, be and do better then their personal best. How can we ask that of someone, when that very someone can’t do it for themselves. It’s ridiculous. We need to come from a place of understanding and patience. And always remember, that what one person is going through and how they experience things within their own thoughts and feelings, could be very different from our own. Don’t get me wrong, there were many times early on that I wanted to shake my husband and say.. “come on, snap out of this”, but I also took the time to learn, and most importantly LISTEN to him. Now there were times that I didn’t make his life super simple. After all, we didn’t move around the world to spend our lives inside and on the couch all day. I remember one Sunday, that was our typical grocery shop for the week day, I was exhausted, and feeling run down. Billy looked at me from the couch and said, “ when are YOU going for groceries?”. And I just quickly and calmly answered with, “ I’m not going to the grocery store, YOU are.” Well he was NOT impressed, but knew better then to argue with me. He got himself up off the couch, and dressed. I gave him the list of groceries and off he went. He wasn’t long…But you know what, it did him the world of good. He actually had color in his face, he didn’t speak to anyone, and he helped do a chore for US. So I then started making plans for the weekend days. I would allow him some down time, aside from his depression, he is an introvert and therefore recharges by doing something just for himself. I would plan short day trips, and just let his moods guide me as to when I should take us home. I still wanted him to experience life here, and do little things that we could make memories to look back on. Some days were absolute torture, for the both of us. I was always very excited and he would be completely deflated. It was as if I was doing the activity alone or with a stranger. But we just kept at it, and have some great pictures and memories to look back on.

I didn’t get a job right away because it just wouldn’t work. Not the way things were. I so badly wanted to get a job as I love working and making my own money. I wanted the opportunity to meet new people and make new friends in our new home. But I needed to keep our life as routine as I could. I needed to make sure I could answer Billy if he called during the day and talk to him, help to calm him and perhaps even make him smile. I needed to be home to make meals and his lunches, and to continue to set up our new lives. Then one day I noticed a small mark on my forehead. It was sore, but I didn’t think much of it. Then I became more run down, and now understand that stress has such a crazy drastic effect on the body. I went to the doctors to see if I could get some answers and discovered that I had shingles on my face. Argh! The frustration, the pain! Now sure I should have slowed down a bit, and I did have to take some time to be on the couch and rest, but only while Billy was at work. Having me sick wasn’t helping him. In that moment I thought to myself, what the hell next?! It can’t get much worse then this, but boy was I wrong…

Lockdown Limbo

Here we are, back in level 4 lockdown. Much like loosing ones virginity, it happened quick, and relatively pain free( depending who you ask I suppose). And also like loosing one’s virginity, there is only so much planning we all can do. So here we are, in some form of limbo, waiting for that daily report of what’s to come in our “lives” in the days looking forward. Lockdown isn’t easy for some, for many reasons, but I really enjoy lockdown. Truth be told, I feel like I needed this lockdown, and perhaps, you all needed yours too. I like to start my lockdown days by having my morning coffee outside on the deck( because now I have the time for that), and if it happens to be raining, I at the very least, open the door for the fresh morning air. There is nothing better then the peace and quiet over a morning coffee!( There has been construction happening next door to us for over a year now. I thought the Taj Mahal had already been built, but apparently not! So I’m loving being able to go outside in my nightgown and not feel like I need to have, what I call my straight jacket, of a bra on. Nor do I need to even worry about wearing my panties, that these days feel like they are made from a wet suit that is way too small for me. Rant over, sorry about that! LOL)

I am with the rest of the world in that financially, being in lockdown sucks …BIG TIME sucks. Not seeing friends and family… sucks. Not being able to travel overseas…sucks. Standing in long lines to get the bare necessities, signing in wherever you go…sucks. Having to wear a mask and breathing in your own stink breath…sucks. However, I also think that being forced to sit still, stop and relax, isn’t the worst thing that’s ever happened. It’s taken a pandemic to make us all take a step back from our routine, busy lives. And I like to think that we can be taking this time to just breath. Maybe sleep more, read more, walk more. Now we have the time without disruption and excuses. We can overcook, over eat( boy are we over eating, there is only so much housework I “want” to do guys:). And lets face it, who doesn’t want to catch up on some sleep. I know I do. This menopause is kicking my ass! There is no clock or set monotony to the day. Just wake up when it suits, eat when it suits, do something or nothing. Did I say eat?!

During lockdown I spend most of my time in my pajamas and robe, and I love it! There are the times that I take the dog for a walk and think it’s best to wear actual pants, but that’s only for the sheer decency of others. Although in saying that, always being in comfy pants is a real quick downward spiral, because you can’t keep track of your waist size when you’re wearing those suckers! Every morning I wake up with this lovely relaxed idea of my day. I’m not thinking about what I’m going to make for supper, because frankly, I don’t give a shit. Maybe I won’t even be cooking supper at all! Because my husband can also cook, and maybe that day it’s his turn, and he can’t say…”babe, I don’t know what’s for supper, I’ve had a long day and I’m tired”. Now we are on an even playing field…so there are no excuses! And I don’t have to feel bad for not “doing it all”.

I know that there are many moms and wives out there that are most likely feeling like they just want to escape the kids and husband. They must be thinking, “ please just let us all get back to it. To our daily routines of the kids going to school, my husband to work, and give me some bloody peace and quiet. “The being followed to the toilet, hearing the shrieking sound of “MAAAUUUUUM!!!” being said what must feel like every second of every day, the constant over flowing sink and counter top of dirty dishes, the laundry that you are swimming through down your hallways and scattered through every inch of the house. The husband that seems like he has forgotten all sense of what his “role” is and doesn’t see the need to help out around the house, especially now because he HAS the time. But instead sits on his ass, playing video games, watching endless movies and youtube videos, and complaining that everyone is getting on HIS nerves.

Isn’t it also interesting that during a lockdown we become so annoyed with our partners? The snapping at one another is like a fun new game! Only there is no winner, in fact the prize is a torture chamber, called “your house”. And those of us with pets that are used to being out and about, getting as much social interaction as our daily grind/ prison (again this is open to interpretation)allows for, becomes even more bored and less social. And you find yourself dreading the time you go for that walk around your neighborhood when you see another human or animal, and your once loving little pet has now become Scar, from The Lion King.

Lockdown is a weird one isn’t it?! I mean, of course we don’t all want to be shut ins and scurry around gathering groceries and the like, ignoring the human race all together, but I can’t help but thinking that it’s also a good thing in some ways. The first lockdown, for us, was also really great. It was a welcome break. And as tough as it was financially, it was so great to have that time home with my husband. Just us two. We don’t have family here in New Zealand, so while we missed everyone, the reality is, it truly is just us. We had time to get some things done around the house that otherwise have to wait for weekends, which are always too short. You spend your weekend doing jobs around the house and never get that much needed two days to mentally and physically shut down. And while we shouldn’t be waiting for the weekend to relax, that just seems to be reality. The weekdays are filled with outside work, eat, sleep, repeat. And where’s the fun in that?!!!

I choose to look at lockdown as a blessing in disguise, even though it really looks like a pandemic. Other than our Christmas break we don’t take much time to really decompress. I like to fill my lockdown days with funny games, lots of food, wine, naps, reading, writing, dog training/walking, light house work, creativity. and ALWAYS LOTS of laughter! And while it feels like lockdown is a state of limbo, I say embrace it. Spend the time with your bubble and be happy for this time. Be thankful for this time. Use this time to reconnect or connect on a deeper level, not just with your bubble peeps, but with yourself as well. Instead of thinking it’s all doom and gloom, remember that we’re in this together, and your together starts at home. Be glad that you have a place to hunker down and be surrounded by at least some or one of your loved ones. You’ve chosen them for a reason.

Lockdown doesn’t have to be all bad, instead turn the time you have in limbo into a fun game of limbo. Have fun with it, and make lasting memories that you’ll remember as “that time we had a pandemic and the whole world went into some form of lockdown, but we chose to see the positive light in that.” Not everything in life is fun and games, but it sure does help to stay positively playful!

Stay safe, be kind, and have fun! xx

Dear Me

Over my morning coffee this morning I got to thinking about my younger self. And when I really started to think about it I tapped into how my thoughts have been shifting lately. And that got me thinking about “why”. When I think about my younger self, I don’t think about the lack of joint pain I had. I don’t think about the car I drove, the school I went to or even what crazy haircuts I had. I do however think more in terms of what I’ve actually and truly learned, and continue to learn about myself.

I love the fact that I’m almost like a new version of my older self in many ways, but yet in many ways, still the same. I’m sure so many of us have heard, “ if I only knew then, what I know now…” But have you actually sat down and thought to yourself, “What the hell do I now know that perhaps I would have inserted into my life at THAT stage?” I believe that we should live without regrets. That the choices we made, at those times or turns in life, were all just our way of helping to shape and prepare us for any of life’s many turning corners. The road isn’t straight. And if it were, I don’t think we’d have as much fun digging deeper into ourselves.

You take so much from your parents, or whomever had the privilege of raising you. Their beliefs, some characteristic traits, the way they made their bed before starting their day, the way they held their fork when they ate. But whether or not we have kept those things as part of our own lives moving forward into our own daily rituals, all depends on how much we tap into our very own. Of course there are genetics and also behaviors that we’ve picked up and taken on from our loved ones. I know that like most women I stand with my hands on my hips, especially when I’m thinking or talking about something serious. I run my kitchen much the same as my mother does hers. I find many things funny that my parents do. I don’t always keep my dresser drawers unplugged, neat and tidy, rather I am known to stuff things in at times when I’m running around with other things on my mind that seem more important. I could go on.

Then I got thinking, what would I tell my younger self. And what do I find myself saying to younger people, or even older people, when I feel like the very real possibility of downward spiraling self sabotage is lerking. And these are some of the thoughts I have. I quite simply wish I was kinder to myself. And that I didn’t allow guilt to fuel so many of my decisions. I wouldn’t have cared that my weight wasn’t where I thought was a sexually accepting number. I wouldn’t have cared that I had a little cellulite, or that one of my breasts was larger then the other. I would have thought deeper about my reasons for doing things, and saying yes. I would have said NO more. I would have asked myself, what it was that “ I “ wanted, not what others wanted for me. I would have ignored any sort of comparison that was made about me, to someone or something else.

I would have told myself that its ok to slow down, take some time out just for YOU, and don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise. That taking time out for you is one of the most important things you’ll ever do for yourself. That it will mean that you come first in your own life. That you are important, valued, treasured, special, unique and worth it. And by taking time for yourself you are saying that you know all of this. That you recognize your worth and importance, and don’t require the acceptance of anyone else, because you matter…to YOU! You recognize without self love and care, you wouldn’t be able to create, grow, and give back to others in the way that you do. That slowing down doesn’t mean you are loosing a part of what makes you…you. It just means that you’re allowing yourself to age with kindness and grace. It’s ok that you can’t fit more into your day, because YOUR best is the only best that matters.

I’d tell myself that it’s ok, not to be ok. That crying doesn’t mean that you’re not strong enough, or having a nap in the middle of the day when the body is telling you to, means that you value your body and brain. I’d tell myself, that opinions are just that…they are not fact. That what others think of you is none of your business and I’d believe it. I’d tell myself to listen to my gut, not my heart or head, because that can get twisted. And not to let others influence your thoughts to sway in their direction. That you know what’s best for yourself.

I would tell my younger self that life is going to show up in ways that you don’t expect. That it’s going to be tough, and hard at times. That you are going to have your heart broken, more than once, but through that heartbreak you will learn to respect yourself. I would tell me, that some of the most important people in your life, will be sitting on the sidelines, waiting for you to fail. But you will prove them wrong. That making waves created from your spontaneous decisions, doesn’t mean that you’re naive. It just means that you crave more. More culture, more food, more adventure, more knowledge. Just more.

I would tell myself that I’m a good person, who loves big and will fight for what’s right for myself to the death. That living my own life is the only way to live. And knowing that will only help you to become a version of yourself that others will be envious of, in such a way that will fill your heart with pure joy and human decency. I would tell myself that one day you will go through something so life changing that you could have never comprehended it. And that many will expect it to change the way you think about and live your life. But you will confidently know that it doesn’t, because you will always live your life to the best of your ability. You will be able to answer this question with such sincerity and truth, because you’ll know that life is for living, not watching.

Dear me, you’ve got this, trust yourself completely and fully. Laugh, cry, love, stay, leave, eat, drink, be merry. LIVE

Xxx

The " Y " Chromosome

In a 2018 article I read that quote “ The Y chromosome may be a symbol of masculinity, but it is becoming increasingly clear that it is anything but strong and enduring. Although it carried the “master switch “ gene SRY, that determines whether an embryo will develop as male(XY) or female (XX) it contains very few other genes and is the only chromosome not necessary for life. Women after all, manage just fine without one.” End Quote,

Now just as a point of interest, this article was written by two men from a prestigious university. So not by some bitter twisted wives, which admittedly so, sounds like myself in this blog post, but by two men that surely know what they’re talking about. And while this article comes from a science based back ground, my knowledge, therefore power (as my mother in law would say), comes from every day life of living with someone who has this bizarre Y chromosome. And I say… “Y” did I do this to myself chromosome?! LOL

Yes, I do love my husband. Of course I do. Or why else would I have married him? But as the days and the years go by, I cant help but thinking that this was some sick joke that the universe is playing on me. A joke that maybe went wrong, and its now just a life lesson or test of my patience, sheer will to live, and character. And to you ladies that are reading this out there, do you notice that every time we start out a conversation or gripe about our beloved husbands, we always intro with… “ I love my husband…but he blah blah blah”?

I have asked my husband on a few different occasions if he goes to work and complains about me, and he has always responded with,“ no”. And to that I say… OF COURSE HE DOESN”T! What the hell does he have to complain about??? Now before any of you think, “wait a second Shannon, you’re not perfect either”, I know that! In fact, I have a long list of things that I’m most certainly not good at, and I’m sure as shit not “perfect” at anything, but there in lies the first issue…I can admit it! Where as with this lovely “Y chromosome “ based human, this quality isn’t one of their finest. I already know that I’m A LOT of person. I have a big personality and that can be taken wrong at times, or prove to be too much for one to handle. I’m ok with that. I’m very quick with my actions, both physical and thought, I talk A LOT, I’m not super tidy but I am clean, my joking sarcasm can often be taken literal, I spoil my dog too much, I crave interactions and spontaneity and that too can happen all to quickly for some. The list goes on. But I can also tell you this, when I’m all in, I mean it. And I will take the time to do my best to take care of someone, listen, let them be heard and also fully understood. The same can NOT be said for the opposite sex (I’m speaking from my own experience here, not everyone else’s).

I’m not saying that all “Y” chromosome based humans are like this, but I just happen to know some of them, and certainly hear about some more. Men and women are just different creatures altogether. And I love that. But it makes me wonder why on earth, can’t we figure each other out to the point of such openness and communication, so that we don’t need to be constantly repeating and rehashing things every few months. This is where us women are known to “nag”. And yeah…I agree we do sound like we are nagging at times, I’m sure of it! But here’s a thought, if they would switch the selective hearing button off, and just do as we asked ( within reason and compromise of course) we wouldn’t sound like nagging partners!

Not so fun fact… we spend one third of our lives at work. And do you find yourself wondering where the time goes in the day? From the time our feet hit the floor, to the time we slip them back under the covers at night, it can sometimes feel like we haven’t blinked all day, because we haven’t had time. Just last night while my husband and I were chatting when he got home from work, he said to me…” I’m gone 5 days a week for 11 hours a day, I sleep for 8, so that leaves 5 hours of the day, but what happens in that time?” And I looked at him and told him straight, as I knew exactly what happens in that time…we talk every night after work. Its something my parents taught me and still do to this day. So my husband and I have taken that on board. Its a good way to stay connected with one another when our lives are so busy. But the sad part is that its literally 1 hour of the day. That being said, the 4 hours remaining, my husband will do the garbage ( if its that one of 2 days a week ) he showers, plays guitar, studies (currently he is studying for an exam which is 2 months away) , he will watch some tv and then read before bed.

Sounds quite nice hey! Now lets talk about what I do. Actually I’ll save you the time, because the answer is… EVERYTHING ELSE!!!! Now before you go “there”…I’m not saying he doesn’t do things around the house, or in the yard. He is clean and tidy, so that is not a worry. And he will say to me ( when he sees that there is no amount of hemorrhoid cream in the world that will fix the bags under my eyes, and my hair hasn’t been washed in a month and therefore lives in a constant mom bun, to which I do not have to children to blame that on) “ just ask me to help babe if you need me to do something”. Can I just tell you how fucking angry this statement makes me? My response to that is …”Why the hell do I need to ASK you to do the things you see that need doing? The very things that you so often remind me you would do if I wasn’t in the picture and how YOU were JUST FINE before I came into your life!”

Yes, he works very hard at his outside the home job. He is a commercial plumber. But let me just tell those of you that don’t know my husband, there is no pep in his step, no urgency to anything he does. Matter of fact, if there was a fire he wouldn’t think to just grab what’s easily accessible and run…no, he would slowly and with sloth like motions, look for HIS shoes! He would then expect that I would grab the file folders with all of our most important information in them, and anything else valuable. He wouldn’t think… “HOLY SHIT THERE IS A FIRE…LETS GET OUTTA HERE BABE…I’VE GOT THE DOG!” Hahahahha!!! Makes me chuckle just thinking about it to be honest. And some of you reading this are probably thinking, Shannon this is so mean. Maybe it is, but these are the facts! LOL

During our conversation last night we really talked about our roles in the house. And while he was complaining about how tired he is, and all that he does is work, I said…” I love and appreciate all that you do for us.” And just so you all know, I very frequently remind him of this, with little letters in his lunch ( that I make), texts during the day, notes on the white board for him to see as soon as the sleep clears from his eyes in the morning, and to his actual face. However, while he is the bread winner in our home, who do you think does something with that “bread”? We do! Us women that’s who! Like I told him, I’m the one that takes the bread and toasts it, butters it, makes breakfast to go with it, bakes it, adds cheese to it, makes it into garlic bread, adds it as a side to meals ( that I prepare), makes his favorite sandwiches with it, and cleans up the crumbs. I could go on, but you get the picture!

After our chat last night I could tell the tone of the conversation had a different type of understanding to it. You see, men can seem selfish at times. Is that because we women just do so much? We take on too much? We are too controlling or push too much? Are we simply expecting too much of our partner? Maybe. But where is the line drawn then? We seem like a nag because we need help with something, or we’re tired and would love for the other 50% of our relationship to help a little more. To carry some of the load. Why do we women need to remember all the fine little details? Do men just not have the capacity to think…” oh wait, she looks so tired and has been telling me just that. Maybe I should call for my own subscription on one of the breaks furing the day that she doesn’t have or take, or just simply remember to change the oil in the car without asking her to remind me to do it. To which then I will just tell her to stop nagging me.” Its a vicious cycle…is there a right and wrong? I don’t know the answer to that. But what I do know, is that times have changed, and the world has gotten so extremely busy that I think we all forget that we need to slow down.

If you’ve taken the time to read this and think I’m a total bitch for writing it, to you I say, I’m sorry I’ve wasted your time( although I didn’t hold a gun to your head lol ) but this is how I feel. And many of my nearest and dearest female family and friends feel the same and can relate! ( without names, you know who you are, and you’re welcome :) My husband doesn’t like to be “told”. He admitted that himself just last night. And while we were having such an open and honest conversation about the roles we each play in our relationship, I think he actually understood just how much I do around here to help keep our worlds ticking along in a way that helps to take some of the added pressure off of HIM during the week. ( notice I said HIM, and not ME?)

But then where does that leave me? Or us wives/partners? So I have decided to make some changes. I’m going to start by leaving the dishes after supper when my legs/feet and back are just too sore to stand anymore. I’m going to let him clear my plate after supper instead of the other way round. I’m going to do more just for ME. That may be going away for a night or two alone or with a friend( which I recently just did and have plans for another getaway very soon). And if it takes me ASKING for help from my husband, then that’s apparently what I need to take on board and do. ( but let me tell you if he dares complain to me about actually helping me… he better sleep with one eye open! lol )

At the end of the day, we are all just trying to do our best, but men seem to have genetically got it sorted a tad better then us ladies. Oh to have an “empty box” (yes this is a real thing, google it!:) in our brains. I’d pay good money to have that genetic trait!!! LOL. We as women are superheroes in my mind. We are strong in body and mind, compassionate, thoughtful, trailblazers, multitaskers…and quite simply…we are home. And I for one, truly believe that if the world was womanless….well there wouldn’t be a world would there! Because who would Toast the Bread?

XXX

Real Time Talk

This is going to be a very REAL post. I wanted to write this post on behalf of all my brothers and sisters out there that are going through any stage of a cancer diagnosis. There is nothing that is easy about it. NOTHING. I’m not saying that you can’t stay positive and upbeat, because you can. But I will say that there are going to be many tough days, and some that are great ( all relative of course). There will most likely be days that you feel lonely, left behind, misunderstood in ways you never knew possible, and quite frankly, overwhelmed. I often hold myself back from really writing about my journey with cancer, because I feel like, “who really wants to read this?”. Or I don’t want people to think I’m looking for a pity party. I’m here to say, it’s quite the opposite. I know how hard this has been for me and still is. And I know that so many people, just don’t fully understand, and hopefully will never have to, just how extremely hard this disease is to navigate.

During this horrific pandemic of Covid-19, we have all listened to people complain about having to be stuck at home with their “so called” loved ones. I say it this way because I feel like , sure while its hard to be in the company of some people for extended periods of time, I can’t help but want to ask people, “then why did you marry them? Choose them ? Or want them?”. Give them and yourself a break. This could be a lot worse for much longer if we don’t want to abide by the rules and stay the hell home whenever and wherever possible. And ask yourself, “how bad is it really anyways?”

Having been at home with my own husband for the better part of 5 weeks straight, was a dream. We took this time to communicate a bit better, and with that came understanding, and perhaps even a different sort of patience. The days had no rules or routine to them. We slept in, took in the sunshine, completed some household projects and ate whenever we wanted without a time schedule. Sure our bank account was maxed, but we had the time with each other, and that was all we needed.

Now my husband is back at work, and I’m stuck at home, all day, alone. And I’m here to tell you guys, and speak for the cancer world, that this is one of the hardest parts of going through it. At least when there is someone at home with you, you have a sounding board, someone to do things with, even if it’s just watching a movie. Just knowing that there is someone else in the other room makes all the difference to ones emotional state. I have felt extremely useless since he has been back at work. That has lead to the feelings of guilt and ultimately stress. Neither of which are helpful, or healthy. I do know things will change, and I will get a groove back, but for now, this is how things feel.

I feel unwell, and my personal health is still, almost 2 years later, the absolute shits. I have gained weight, my face is broke out constantly, my hair looks like its just dried up old straw that has been sitting in the bottom of my dad’s barn for ten years, and my boobs, well…..they have really taken on a life of their own!!! All of these things have for the most part, been completely out of my control. The hormones, lack of estrogen, the messing around with estrogen to find the right dosage and the weight fluctuation that goes along with that, the lack of sleep, the many surgeries on an area that sure had been experiencing previous issues, but NOTHING to this extent. Oh and lets not forget the totally new diagnosis of new health issues that have only occurred because of having cancer. I mean, I truly could be here all day telling you all just how much this sucks.

However, instead of whining about it all, spending all day every day, crying or nearly in tears about every single little thing that makes me feel like a different physical person to who I was just 2 short years ago, I choose to just …be. Today hasn’t been the best day for me emotionally. But instead of beating myself up about it, I put on some makeup. I talked to a friend and had a laugh about our sisterhood of cancer shit. I communicated to my husband how I was feeling so he could process, give me a hug and reassure me, just that little bit I needed. And while getting my comfy nighttime clothes on, I took the time to look at myself naked in the mirror and be kind to my beautiful perfectly imperfect curves.

You see, while cancer isn’t always a death sentence in the literal sense, it can often feel like that in the physical, if we let ourselves go there. My days aren’t always filled with crazy antics, and farting positivity. They are however filled with the very real constant reminders of just how much my body has drastically changed. And just how hard I’m going to have to work at getting to a place of contentment. Following a new food plan ( I don’t mean diet, I just want to be healthy), staying a form of active that I will be able to grow upon, saying “NO” to things that don’t bring me joy and fulfillment, and feeling creative and helpful, are my life’s goals and focuses.

We shouldn’t spend our precious time comparing ourselves, worrying about what materialistic crap we accumulate, how many chins we have, how low our balls sag, or if our tits appear to suffocate us when we lay down. We need to worry about just getting through each and every day, as good human beings, loyal friends and good neighbours. Staying constant and living a life of personal fulfillment. WE can’t all be everything to everyone else, when we need to just be ENOUGH for ourselves. XXX

No Matter Where, No Matter What

There are those people in our life that come and then potentially go. As we grow and age, experience and learn, our individual lives perhaps change, or alter…which I prefer to say. And along this journey we start with friends that come along with us, right from childhood. Some of those friends will stay, and choose to grow with you. Others we will cut ties with, wishing them all the best things in life, but knowing that our journey together had its purpose for what it was, and we will take those lessons with us as we continue our own path and life choices.

We go our separate ways, move provinces or even countries. Meet people along the way that touch our lives in one way or another. And some of those people, may become life long friends. It might not be a “best friend at first sight” sorta thing, but as time goes on and communication stays key, a trust is born and you find yourself “stuck” with one or many of these friends. Which suits me just fine, and I wouldn’t have it any other way!

I met my friend Beth in my early 20’s when we were working together as massage therapists in Banff, Alberta Canada. And at that time we were…friends. I later moved to New Zealand with my partner at the time ( who p.s decided that cheating on me while in NZ was a cool idea…dick move!). I was working 3 jobs and living my best life. A year later and now single with an expired work visa for New Zealand, I decided to move on to Australia. While I was there and still keeping in touch with Beth, I could tell what she was doing back home wasn’t working for her, so I purposed she come and travel Australia with me. It didn’t take any convincing and soon, the adventures of the Canadian wildlings began… And what a time we had!

We both had jobs working on Green Island, which is on the doorstep of the Great Barrier Reef. We were massage therapists at their luxurious resort and day spa, and let me just say…while the resort itself truly was ( and still is) luxurious, there was nothing “luxurious” about Beth and I!! It brings tears to my eyes with humor, thinking back to the sheer debauchery ( that usually started on the journey home on the ferry ride having bubbles and sharing laughs with Peter, someone we quickly knew would become part of our whirlwind Australian odyssey) that we would get up to the nights before our work days, and the pain we would be in, suffering through the demanding work day that followed. But there we were, in the moment, living our best lives and growing a friendship that would surely last us a lifetime.

We got tattoos with words that mean something to us, and our bond.

No matter where we lived while in Australia, whether it was together or separate, we were two peas in a pod. We didn’t do much without each other. What one went through, the other did too. Whether that was indirectly or not. We grew along side one another, we fought, shared stories, and partied like it was our job. And somehow made it out alive! More importantly though, we made it out with our friendship intact. Towards the end of our Australian odyssey, we had pity taken upon us by a house full of guys. No, they weren’t just some random guys we met at a pub, we had a great friend who knew them well, and asked if they would be gracious enough to allow two wild and crazy Canadian girls to crash at their place for the unforeseeable. And for whatever reason they agreed, silly bastards, LOL !!! These guys turned out to be some of the top “blokes” I know to date! Beth and I had some amazing times running a muck, hitting up the local pubs and making a lifetime of memories and friendships with these amazing men. But like most things in life, this had to come to an end. Our visas were up and being broke is one thing, but we were FLAT broke. So with many tears and broken hearts off home we flew. She to Winnipeg and me to Nova Scotia.

Time went on. Personal growth and development was life’s focus. We went on to met our husbands, have children, move countries, experience health issues and live! All the while keeping in touch as often as we could and supporting one another with anything that would pop up. Fast forward through 14 years of friendship, and here we were catching up face to face, in New Zealand! Beth had made the long ass journey to celebrate my 40th with me. And can I just tell you all that are reading this, it was one of the most valuable times I will ever have in my life. I say that because, while we knew we’d pick right up where we always leave off, its just so amazingly important to know that you still have that connection with someone. That through it all, this connection is something to be reckoned with. It’s extremely heart warming, emotional, and connective. Nothing will ever come between that.

Never mind the exploring and new memories that are being made, but its the being able to lay in bed with each other, laugh until you cry about stupid shit you did in the past, and love one another for all that is perfectly imperfect about each of you, is nothing short of special. There are those people and those friendships that just know you better than anyone else, especially your family. They know your deepest darkest secrets, and fears. They know all the little things that make you tick, and do all of this without an ounce of judgement. They prove to you over and over again, that no matter what, and no matter where, this bond is one that will never be broken.

I wanted to write this post for her. While she knows how important she is to me, because I tell her often, and vice versa, I just wanted to share with anyone who reads this, just how much I truly do love her, and just how much a true, genuine friendship really means to someone. My life feels fuller, blessed and complete because of her friendship. Beth has always, and is ALWAYS there for me. In any way she can be, and that means more than words could ever begin to explain to me. She has brought loyalty to my life that I hope others have the chance to experience. When I was diagnosed with cervical cancer, I of course wanted to share my horrifying news with her straight away, but I knew it would break her heart. That alone says so much about her character. And as my sickness went on, she would always, and still always says, “WE will get through this TOGETHER”. As I sit and write this, it brings tears to my eyes thinking about it, because those words have got me through some pretty lonely times.

We are lucky enough to be put on this earth for whatever reason, and we have a duty to ourselves to fill our lives with people that bring something to it. We owe it to ourselves to make sure we don’t do ourselves a disservice by choosing friends that will only take, take, take. Being friends with someone should feel much like a marriage commitment. It should be a commitment based on brutal honesty, loyalty, and respect. And sure not all of your friendships will last a lifetime, but the ones that do, deserve attention, understanding and above all else, love.

So Beth, here is to YOU. My long distance wife for life! Thank you for being my ride or die, for loving me endlessly to the moon and back, and for ALWAYS showing up…

No matter where…no matter what…I love you X

"Stay Home You're Sick"

So I hit a wall this past week. And I guess some of that would explain why I haven’t posted on my blog in ages. I think I have hit, once again, a place of overwhelm. Now I’m not saying I have anything to complain about, because I don’t, but I don’t think I have been listening to myself and my own personal needs as much as I should be. And in many ways I suppose I have cancer to thank for that. It has this sick way of twisting your thoughts and making you one day feel as though you are better than the last, so that’s “enough”, and you push on headstrong and fast forward. And then this week happens. The everyday life stuff, is just simply too much.

Those days of getting out of bed with little to no type of pain after a decent nights sleep, don’t exist anymore. The simple self care of painting your toenails, putting on makeup and doing your hair for the day, are a hard push to exist. The simple routine of a morning coffee on your way out the door in a scurried hurry doesn’t exist in such haste. The clear mental attention span and overloaded memory of unforgettable thoughts, doesn’t exist. The self loathing you once had, you would now welcome back with open arms, because it couldn’t possibly be worse then how you now feel on most days.

I have felt all of these things, stronger and more exhausted this week, then I did the last. If I’m being honest with myself, I’ve been feeling this way for a while. And the best way I can describe it, is that it all becomes so overwhelming. You get glimpses of the person you were before you got sick,( or had kids or lost a limb, got a divorce or were diagnosed with mental illness, ……..you get what I’m saying) and those glimpses trick you into thinking your mind and body can keep up. But as a wise and dear friend of mine has reminded me today …” I’m Sick” and I “Need To Stay Home”.

As some of you may know, I am a social extrovert. I fill my internal battery up by being out and about and around others. I have always been that person that walks down an isle at the grocery store and some complete stranger may make eye contact with me, and being a nice person, I will smile back. This often leads to over complicated and extremely open offerings into their personal lives, which could be anything from ragging on their partners, to bowel issues. ( I’m not kidding!) And I’m totally ok with that. That’s who I am. And I wouldn’t change that about myself. But I have realized lately, that I need to separate myself a bit from always giving out and I need to do more to take back for myself.

Since being sick, and continuing along on this prick of a sick train, which has been a year and a half of my life thus far, I’ve done my very best to not veer off the tracks. And if I did, or needed to, I would let it happen, acknowledge it, put it in its right file folder, learn and move on. But as I’m sure many of you know, it can often be easier said then done. So when it comes time to doing those what should be simple tasks of grocery shopping and talking to strangers, hair and makeup, and driving any distances, this body of mine now doesn’t want to cooperate. I need to learn to follow its lead, rather than it follow my racing mind.

This past week has been just what I would have called a regular, mediocre week before having cancer and surgeries. But what once was a “regular week” to me no longer exists, at least not right now, and most likely not for a while yet, or perhaps it never will. Maybe I’m living in the land of denial, or maybe I’m just too damn stubborn to want to accept that this is now what I have to work with. Either way, this week I have done too much. Cooking back to back dinners for company, regular household duties, not sleeping, continuous pain and bloating, tender scars, taking down wall paper, slowly ripping up flooring, running errands, and working very part time… has proven to be too much for me to handle. As I sit here writing this, it’s late afternoon, I haven’t got off the couch or done anything but have some lunch and fluids and I’m still in my nightgown. There are so many things I want to do, and places I’d like to have gone to today. But as my friends and body are telling me….I’m sick and I just need to stay home, rest and recover..

This proves to be very difficult for me, honestly. I struggle internally with the sense of guilt that I’m not doing enough in my day, if all I’m doing is sitting around and letting my body heal. I KNOW that my job right now is to get well and let my body rest and relax so it can process and heal properly for longevity. Perhaps it was my upbringing that has been etched deep into my brain, that sitting at home, not getting dressed, not accomplishing anything (in terms of others expectations of what accomplishing is ) is wasting time or being lazy.

Just as my body is sick, and continues to remind me of that, I am also sick of letting these feelings of what I am not getting done in my day to day, control me. And as this sickness continues to rule and control my life, I need to learn to just sit with things and ….STOP. We are a one income home and unless we win the lotto we don’t play, that’s not going to change over night. It’s ok to not cook supper, go to the grocery store, run errands that ultimately aren’t life or death, and just be present with my legs up watching a movie on the couch.

The kitchen floor boards will wait, the walls that need painting will wait, the lawns will wait, groceries will wait. But what won’t patiently wait if it’s pushed too far…is my health. It’s first and foremost the most important thing I own. While the sun is shining on my face, and the birds are chirping in our yard, writing this blog has brought me a sense of peace. My shoulders have dropped, and I’ve taken a big wholesome deep breath.

I have been through A LOT this past year and a half. I’m resilient, stubborn, determined, positive and bursting with love for anyone who will have it. However, I need to refocus some of that love back inwards. Perhaps write more, online shop more, and maybe even shut off more. So I’m going to focus on that. Putting actions to my own words, and find more balance in my teeter totter life. Resting more, eating well, breathing better, and just STOP.