My 2010 According to Facebook
This graphic was compiled from a selection my status updates over the past year.
How was your 2010?
Best wishes for a healthy and happy new year!
My Wish for You
I was crossing through an intersection in holiday rush hour traffic, in the rain of course (this is Seattle), when the truck to my right swooped in front of me, cutting me off, and then stopping short with his butt hanging in the crosswalk – leaving me stranded and blocking the cross traffic. Yeah, I was that driver.
Luckily, the jerk didn’t cause me to get a ticket for blocking the intersection, so it wasn’t worth giving the incident much more thought. But then something else happened…
A street kid, in a soaked jacket and no hat, was visibly concerned by the event. He flipped off the other driver on my behalf, and then set about the gargantuan task of trying to stop the hordes of pedestrians long enough to let me pull forward, and out of the intersection. All this done with a smile.
As I passed, he bowed deeply, tipping an imaginary hat. I smiled and waved, and wished there was something more I could do, but I was swept back up in the flow of traffic, and he was merrily on his way.
I offered up a wish on his behalf. First I thought of a warm dry coat. But he needed a hat, too. And gloves. When was his last hot meal? Did he have a safe place to rest his head? Were his needs being met?
We’ve had a tough time this year, but we’ve never gone hungry, I’ve been able to get medical care, and we’ve always had a roof over our head. I am so grateful.
My wish for you this holiday season, and on through 2011, is that your needs are met – health, safety, shelter, acceptance, a job…
And to the kid that helped me through that intersection, I hope you get your needs met, too – especially a warm, dry jacket.
From my family to yours, Merry Christmas, happy holidays, and a happy and healthy New Year.
New Perspective on Memory
I was in the back seat, pretending to sleep as we pulled into the driveway late after a long day of shopping. At five, and the oldest in a large family, the odds of Daddy carrying me into the house and up the stairs to my room were pretty slim. But that didn’t stop me from trying.
Most of the time, he’d wake me up and send me inside, but every once in a while my little ploy worked. I’d rest my head on his shoulder as we ascended the stairs, and ragdoll as he maneuvered me into my jammies. Then he would tuck me into bed, brush the hair from my face, and plant a kiss on my forehead. I relished those moments, soaking up the attention.
Parenthood has given me a new perspective on this memory. I wonder how transparent my motives were. Did he know I was only pretending to sleep, and carry me in anyway? Did he want to hold me as much as I wanted to be held? As a child, I only thought about how I had to compete with my brothers for attention and affection. It didn’t occur to me that my parents might crave those cuddles, too.
Today would have been my dad’s 65th birthday.
I miss you, Dad.
Community
Where have you discovered community, online or otherwise, in 2010? What community would you like to join, create or more deeply connect with in 2011? (Reverb 10 – Day 7 / Prompt Author: caligater)
I started 2010 with my thoughts on community.
I enjoy my friends individually, but I missed belonging to a circle of friends. It’s been a long time since I had local friends who were friends with each other. It’s even more complicated now that some have kids, and some don’t. Schedules don’t sync up, we go weeks without seeing each other, and I end up craving grownup conversation. I was looking for a community to join at the beginning of the year. Specifically, I was looking for a writers’ group.
Cancer made a difference.
I was having grownup conversations with my doctors that no one should have to have. But cancer also led me to a circle of women, all breast cancer survivors, who would become my friends. At least twice a month I connect with other women, many with babies and young children, who understand what I’m going through. This community is not only helping me through this difficult diagnosis, it is addressing issues that existed before I knew I had cancer.
As I look ahead to 2011
I plan to find more communities. I am going to renew my search for a good writers’ group; I need the writing practice, and I thoroughly enjoyed my previous experience belonging to a writers’ group.
But there is something else that has been weighing on my heart since my diagnosis. Cancer support groups tend to be divided up by diagnosis, and they tend to be exclusive. Every day I count myself fortunate that my cancer cells first attacked my breast. Breast cancer is a popular cause, and while there is still so much need, most support groups and services are exclusively dedicated to breast cancer survivors.
Sure, most women with cancer happen to have breast cancer, but that is no comfort for the 29-year-old single mom in a support group full of 60-year-old men because she has rectal cancer. Would you want to discuss your chemo induced menopause in that environment? She’s receiving many of the same chemo drugs, and the radiation differs just in location. That young woman has no access to the Komen funds that help pay the rent of breast cancer survivors, or the house keeping services for breast cancer survivors, or the circle of young moms battling breast cancer. Fundraisers for ‘Save the Ta-Tas,’ T.I.T.S. (Two in the Shirt), and any number of other tongue in cheek parties that combine boobs with booze fill our social calendars, but nobody wants to go to a save the rectums party. Just because the cancer cells first attacked her caboose instead of her headlights, this young woman is excluded from an amazing array of cancer coping resources. And she is not alone. Millions are in the same predicament.
So let’s bring those millions together.
Or, as far as the Seattle area is concerned, lets bring those hundreds together.
I want to create a community for young adults with cancer, especially mothers of young children, that is inclusive rather than exclusive.
And then I want to find a way to help get them the kind of amazing support, financial and otherwise, that I have received as a breast cancer survivor.
You can learn more about my cancer story here:
Let’s Connect
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The Fortune Cookie: Our 2010 Christmas Ornament
Even before we got married, The Husband and I started a Christmas tradition where we pick out an ornament together to represent the year. I did not have any preconceived notions about what this year’s ornament would be, but once I saw it, I knew it was right.
A few days after he proposed, The Husband went out for Chinese food with some colleagues and his fortune said “You will be married within the year.” We were. We got married nine months later, and we had personalized fortune cookies made up for our guests as favors at our wedding.
This fortune cookie ornament reminded me of that happy fortune.
It also represents my attitude about this past year. I feel so incredibly lucky: lucky to have such a loving and understanding husband, a beautiful daughter, and to have some of the best doctors in the world helping me battle cancer.
It’s also a great talisman to carry forward into the next year. I certainly could use a little more good fortune.
Here’s wishing you all a season of great fortune: love, health, and joy.
One Word: Hope
Encapsulate the year 2010 in one word. Explain why you’re choosing that word. Now, imagine it’s one year from today, what would you like the word to be that captures 2011 for you?
(Reverb 10 – Day 1 / Prompt Author: Gwen Bell)
I didn’t have to think very long or very hard to assign a word for this year. Cancer consumed my energy and time, but the one word I would use to describe this year is hope. Hope is what drives me, what gets me out of bed every day. Hope is what I see every time I look at my daughter. Hope is why I subjected myself to all the ick of treatment.
For what am I hopeful? A cure? Of course. And until then, I’d like to battle this cancer back, and not have any recurrence.
I’m hopeful I’ll have many more tomorrows.
I’m hopeful I’ll outlive my daughter’s childhood.
But there’s more than that – I’m 40 now, it’s about time for a midlife crisis. Imagine what happens to a midlife crisis when the universe says this might actually be the end of your life.
I’m a late bloomer: at 40, I’m still working on getting my bachelors degree, I haven’t yet started a career from which I could eventually retire, I’ve never been off this continent, I’ve just been married a few years, and my daughter isn’t even two yet. This mid-life crisis had already been messing with me when I was diagnosed with stage 3 breast cancer.
There is so much I want to do with my life. Most importantly, I want to be the one to raise my daughter, to guide her through adolescence and into adulthood, and to be there for her if and when she starts her own family. I want to get old with my husband. I want to travel around the world. I want to finish my degree – for myself, but also as an example to my daughter. I also want to write a book, and more than that, to make a living as a writer. I’ve wanted to be a writer since I first comprehended that someone wrote the words I was reading when I was in Kindergarten. I have two big ideas for non-profits I want to get started. I want to make a mark on the world. I want to make a difference. I want to make the world a better place.
So hope it is: Hope that I can be here to raise a confident, intelligent, and compassionate young woman, and Hope that I can finish my degree, muster the confidence to start submitting my writing for publication (perhaps even some travel writing from all the adventures The Husband and I will have together), and get the ball rolling on righting some wrongs in this world.
That’s a lot to pack into one little four-letter word.
My word for next year: Resilience.
What word would you use to describe 2010?
