Tag: Gratitude

Unexpected News at my 7-Year Oncology Appointment

(Title image: Photo by Gary Fultz on Unsplash)

A few days ago I had my seven-year post-diagnosis appointment with my oncologist. Seven whole years. And it was a weird conversation.

He said something that set me aback. He told me that he didn’t think I should worry about the cancer coming back. Essentially, I was cured (note: MY words, not his, but that’s the idea). [See bottom of post for disclaimer!]

He’s alluded to this before during previous appointments. But this time around felt different.

I’ve officially hit SEVEN!
(Photo by Himiway Bikes on Unsplash)

I returned home a bit confused. See, for the last seven years, I’ve been a full-on cancer survivor. Still holding on to the fear that at any moment, I would get those terrifying scan results back and–WHAM–I’m a cancer patient once more, back on that sickening rollercoaster ride through treatment.

As difficult as it was to accept that–even trying my best to live a healthy life–I had somehow been smacked down by cancer…now, I had a new problem. Reentering life as maybe not-so-much a cancer survivor anymore, but rather just a healthy, active postmenopausal woman with years ahead of her.

And that is a weird feeling.

For the first five years after my diagnosis, I was frustrated, even angry. Cancer was a devastating detour at a time when I was already struggling to find my way back into a career. Well, forget that. Derailed. I was bitter.

Eventually, I realized that while life sucked, it sucked for a lot of people and I wasn’t special in that regard. That was an important turning point in how I perceived my own role in my cancer story–it was humbling but also gratifying.

Humbling because my experience could have been so much worse. There were people whose treatment did not end well. I was incredibly fortunate, even when it felt like I’d been thrown in a sack and beaten with sticks. At least, I made it out.

Gratifying because early on I held myself responsible for getting cancer, even though I had literally done everything protective (lots of exercise, high fitness, plant-based diet, breastfeeding, not smoking, not drinking) that I could think of. I was desperate with frustration and helplessness about this. Letting go of that guilt was healing.

Feels like I’ve got the green light to hurry up and get on with the rest of my life now.
(Photo by Possessed Photography on Unsplash)

So the last two years have been more about understanding my perspective and then stepping out of it to view things more objectively. Mindfulness and meditation helped with that, which is why I often write about them here. But I hadn’t been ready to get out of the breakdown lane and drive myself back into mainstream life, in part fearful of the pain of having the expectation of cancer-free “normality” smashed to smithereens by a potential diagnosis.

Gradually, that’s changed. But this last appointment felt like getting shoved out the door by someone yelling, “YOU’RE OKAY, DAMMIT!” Here I am, standing and blinking in the sunlight, trying to make sense of exactly what that means for me now. Wow, after seven years, I can actually stop being afraid.

I don’t know if I even remember what that feels like.

Yes, I’m still going to refer to myself as a survivor, because it’s a part of my natural history. I’m never going to forget that experience and I continue to be driven by a need to support others going through this disease.

And if it does return? Well, at least I will have had a brief glimpse of life completely outside the notion of cancer.

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Of course, because we’re talking about cancer, the statements above call for level-headness in the midst of levity. While my oncologist feels that the chances of the same cancer coming back are low, the possibility for a brand spankin’ new tumor, breast or otherwise, never goes away. It happened once, it can happen again. But that’s life. I’ll take it.

February: A Great Month for a Diagnosis Reenactment

(Title image: Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash)

It’s February and that means it’s the start of “diagnosis season” for me. At this point in cancer survivorship, I don’t get as affected by everything that happened “on this date X years ago“. However, I have an oncologist appointment and my yearly 3D mammogram around this time, so I can’t forget what this month means.

You would think that since 2024 marks seven (!) years since my initial diagnosis, I’d feel pretty good about having made it this far past my treatment…and you would be right.

Seven years down and still going strong!
(Photo by Frankie Lopez on Unsplash)

I’m now living the feeling that I so desperately wished for seven years ago when everything felt devastating and out of control. My outcome, even with the many pesky moguls that I’ve had to clear, is something I’m so thankful for.

But of course, even as mellow and relatively unconcerned as I am now, there are little reminders of the rough and tumble past that unsettle me.

Like that point in my mammogram when the tech finishes up and leaves the room to consult with the radiologist, and all of a sudden I don’t feel great anymore. It’s maybe 5-10 minutes or so of sitting in a quiet room all by myself, wrapped up in that bathrobe-y gown made out of fabric that seems like it should be less scratchy, trying to focus really hard on the tropical ocean video that they have playing on the tv screen on the wall.

No matter how warm the room is, there is a cold spot in the pit of my stomach. The hospital does its best making the surroundings seem inviting. Really they try. But it’s kind of hard to mellow out the echo of an impending sense of doom.

Same goes for every time my oncologist says something like, “Hmmm, should we do another chest MRI?” No, no we should not. That’s about 45 minutes of being stretched out like superman on a surface that’s clearly meant for a woman much shorter than me, while getting my ears blasted.

In case you’ve never taken a ride in the tube, this is what it’s like. Don’t forget your earplugs. Bonus for chest MRIs: you’re lying on your belly with your arms stretched past your head for almost an hour, giving you plenty of time to reconsider your life choices.

My husband says the MRI sounds like a broken dot matrix printer. I think if your printer is making sounds like that, it’s time to evacuate the building.

Ah the memories. But again, I am talking about this from the vantage point of seven years away. It is nicer being up here above the fray. It also gives me a great view of the potential rollercoaster disaster that this season could become, if my scans go south.

But seven years into this, I’m betting it probably won’t. So far, so good.

Reflections on 2023; or “Focusing on What Doesn’t Suck”

(Title image: Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash)

Warmest wishes to everyone for a joyous start to 2024! I hope you had a wonderful holiday season with your loved ones and are ready to launch into the new year!

I…learned a few things about myself in 2023.

My family and I had our share of misfortunes, bumps and hiccups and stumbles that started piling on. An apartment flood, two sizable rent increases, physical pains, emotional turmoils, family illnesses.

It’s easy to focus on the negatives (and *ahem* trust me, I did many times). But there were also some significant positives this year, not the least of which is that my cancer has not returned and I am still alive. Those are two biggies.

But I also found myself somehow managing, even in the midst of the worst stressors. I didn’t respond the way I had in the past, which would have been with a bought of nausea, racing thoughts and tortured nights.

So I know that something has changed: there is actual space between me and the things that suck. Now, there’s not always a lot of space–occasionally it’s a teeny gap that you could only slide a credit card through. And at those times, I might not even remember to take three deep breaths. But when I come to my senses I can breathe more space into that gap.

You need to stop and reflect on how far you’ve come to understand the benefits of what you’ve been doing.
(Photo by Alexander Milo on Unsplash)

That, my friends, is called progress.

And as frustrating as it is that anxiety sometimes gets the best of me, my reaction is still so much better than it used to be and that provides motivation to stay consistent with a meditation practice.

So, if I learned anything, it’s that you don’t know how far you’ve come until you look back at the road you’ve been on and reflect on where you started.

But I also learned something else this year: sometimes you need to back off in order to go forward. I dealt with body pains that affected both my strength and conditioning exercise and yoga practice. I fought against taking it easy because I was so afraid of “falling behind”.

Well, nothing good comes of that. If anything, it prolongs recovery.

I was pushing myself to train harder and not respecting my changing limits. At the same time, I was juggling several online classes because I was also afraid of falling behind career-wise, on top of which I was concerned about finding a new apartment.

This was a classic case of spreading myself thin.

Constant striving made it impossible to my body to heal and rest and for my mind to assimilate information and construct useful goals and plans.

It was not until late December that I was forced to prioritize my well being because it hurt too much not to. Stressful events that came in the last quarter of the year gave me no choice. But in doing so, pain in my hip improved significantly and in backing off my expectations, I opted to focus on a single class, while at the same time continuing to sort through our belongings and get rid of things that we no longer need.

I slowed down and made more progress than if I had continued beating myself silly.

Look at all the beautiful positives that show themselves when you focus on the good stuff.
(Photo by Kim Stewart on Unsplash)

All in all, as frightening as 2023 was at times, I can see all the good that took place, and that’s the third thing that was a major revelation for me. I’d describe my view of the world as being like a picket fence. Sure, if I only look at the pickets I see the negatives that have taken place. But adjusting my focus on the the world that is visible between the pickets, it becomes clear that there’s so much more that hasn’t gone wrong.

Even when it seems that you’ve suffered so many setbacks–and it felt like I really stumbled during the second half of the year–when you review what DID work out, the sense of gratitude and relief is uplifting.

So even in the midst of everything that stressed me out, 2023 doesn’t seem so bad afterall. And that little burst of positivity is what I’m taking into 2024 with me.

Happy New Year!

A Different Take on Advent

(Title image: Photo by Niklas Ohlrogge on Unsplash)

For anyone here who has celebrated Advent, you know it as the period of time comprised of the four Sundays (and the weekdays in between) leading up to Christmas in preparation for the arrival of the Messiah. The 2023 season of Advent starts this coming Sunday, December 3rd. [Edit: Many consider Advent to run from Dec 1 – Dec 24, and that suits the purpose of this post also.]

Advent has historically been observed by Christian religious dominations and is marked by the lighting of four candles, one for each Sunday. But it is most famously known by everyone as the four or so weeks before Christmas when you “give up” something.

Advent wreath with four colored candles representing hope, peace, joy and love, one lit every Sunday of Advent. The white candle can be lit on Christmas Eve or Christmas.
(Photo by KaLisa Veer on Unsplash)

Growing up, we’d usually give up sweets during this time, only being allowed a little something each Sunday, with the idea that we would appreciate the candies and cakes at Christmas all the more.

But you know what? I don’t really think it had that effect. That was something geared more towards our stomachs than our souls. Sure, we’d look forward to finally indulging in holiday goodies…but that was about it.

And as the years went on and treats played an ever-decreasing role in my life, I flailed around looking for something else to deny myself. Let’s face it, I was missing the point.

More recently, I’ve turned Advent into a different kind of spiritual opportunity.

So I’d like to offer a most positive way of observing those last weeks of the year for everyone, regardless of religious affiliation. And it has nothing to do with depriving yourself of anything.

Rather, it’s a blissful gift for yourself…and your soul, if you will.

Not everyone lives where the winter weather is warm enough to pick up trash on the beach…but I’m willing to bet that most of us live in a place where we can lend a hand to a charitable organization.
(Photo by Brian Yurasits on Unsplash)

For this Advent, I invite you to commit to several weeks of establishing a new thoughtful behavior. This can look different for everyone:

Perhaps, it’s time to set aside a few minutes in prayer and contemplation, as it suits your own spiritual tradition.

Perhaps it’s an opportunity to commit to volunteering for a charity, giving to others without expecting anything in return.

Perhaps it’s a time to establish a simple meditation practice, a few minutes a day at a specified time.

Perhaps it’s an opportunity to practice daily mindfulness, say, when you make your morning coffee or tea, truly focusing on the process and what the items feel like in your hands.

Perhaps, it’s time to think before reacting, pausing before getting angry and saying something hurtful.

This Advent might be the perfect opportunity to establish a practice of mindful contemplation.
(Photo by Ümit Bulut on Unsplash)

Perhaps this is the time to go through your belongings, a little every day, and gather up what you can give to others in need, or discard if the item is no longer of use to anyone.

Perhaps this is time to think about all the things for which you’re grateful, starting or ending your day in this way. And if there’s nothing that you can be grateful about, then consider what you’re grateful that is *not* happening.

Choosing what to focus on for Advent can be a very mindful process in itself. And after about a month of this practice, you will emerge with a beautiful new habit.

Give it a try and I wish you a beautiful Advent season!

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Please note: I realize that there is a much deeper religious meaning of Advent for Christians, and I’m not trying to minimize that. However, in this time of hyperpolarization when we’re so focused on what sets us apart from those around us, this is a thoughtful way to share the Advent tradition with everyone, with love. And isn’t that the spirit of Christmas?

Even When There’s Nothing to be Grateful for…There’s Something to be Grateful for

(Title image: Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash)

With the Thanksgiving holiday coming up in the United States this week, I wanted to offer you a funny little story to think about when you feel there’s little to be grateful for.

Although I work from home a lot these days, I had gone in to the office a few days ago to get some things done onsite. It was a hectic day and I ended up leaving later than I expect, and as I walked to the busstop, I was carrying more items than usual, including an umbrella for the sun, a large zippered bag for my water bottle and food I hadn’t had time to eat and held my cell phone connected to a charger in one hand. I was loaded up!

Luckily my purse is backpack-style so I didn’t need to carry it in my hands. And my office keys were on my ID badge, which hung around my neck.

All packed up and ready to go, right?
(Photo by Alexandra Tran on Unsplash)

On the way to the bus, I was preoccupied with things that I still needed to do and concerns about issues at home.

The bus arrived, I got on and put my belongings on the floor at my feet, burying myself in a game on my phone.

NOTHING seemed out of the ordinary, save for someone who sat down beside me and seemed to press against me a bit. But, hey, it’s the bus and there were a lot of people on so it isn’t a completely comfortable ride. That’s okay.

Besides, the guy moved to another seat as people got off on their stops.

By the time we got to my stop, I prepared to get off by collecting my items. And my heart missed a beat: my purse was not there.

I did a double-take. I looked all around my seat. Nope, no purse.

My head started to swim because it seemed obvious that someone had taken it. I rushed over to the driver and told him that I thought my purse had been stolen. He listen to my story, called the dispatch and marked the security video, explaining that I should fill out a police report and let them know the time and bus number…

My mind was a blur as I tried to remember everything that I had in my purse.
(Photo by Nick Noel on Unsplash)

I dutifully wrote down his instructions but I was already thinking of the hours of work that getting my cards cancelled, obtaining a new drivers license, getting new car, apartment and mailbox keys, and everything else would require.

“And now THIS on top of everything else!” I thought to myself as I got off the bus and walked home, feeling dejected and spent.

Before calling the police department I decided to call my co-worker to check my office in case I’d somehow left my purse there.

But I knew that was hopeless. There is no way that I would have walked out of the office without putting on my backpack purse, no way that I would have not felt it on my back as I stood waiting for the bus and absolutely no way that I would not have noticed that it wasn’t there when I put all my belongings by my feet on the bus.

I was wrong.

My co-worker told me that it was on the floor under my desk.

Behold the power of mindlessness! I have no idea how I could have missed all those cues that alert me to presence or absence of my purse, especially when it’s the most important item that I carry. But I did.

Gratitude hides out in the unlikeliest of places.
(Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash)

However, that’s not the point of this post. The point of this post is, suddenly I did not need to call the police department, cancel my credit and debit cards, stand in line to get a new driver’s license, sit and recall everything that I had in my purse and wallet and anything else that I would have spent hours doing.

And I felt a tidal wave of gratitude wash over me, one that would have not experienced if I hadn’t spent the last 20 minutes convinced that someone had stolen one of my most important belongings.

That gratitude came out of nowhere. And it made me think.

If I could muster such a powerful feeling of thankfulness when I realized that something bad that I was sure happened actually hadn’t happened, maybe I could find a way to generate that same feeling without needing to experience the sense of doom beforehand?

In other words, I can be thankful for all the bad things that don’t happen even if there aren’t great things going on at the time.

So this Thanksgiving, my wish for you is to be able to experience sincere gratitude without having to lose your wallet and then find it.

Happy Thanksgiving!

From a Safe Distance

It’s hard to believe that six years ago I was a week and a half away from my final chemo infusion, in the thick of being a cancer patient with no idea of what tomorrow would bring.

Cancer survivorship used to be a whole lotta “looking over your shoulder” for the next thing to hit.

I also thought that I’d live the rest of my life, however much or little of it there was left, in fear, always looking over my shoulder to see if cancer was close behind. In fact, after my active treatment was over, I expected that my anxiety would increase because I imagined that whatever had triggered my tumor growth would again be unleashed and ready to attack my again.

And when I had to stop aromatase inhibitors early due to side effects, I envisioned even more terror because I wouldn’t have the medication’s protection anymore.

None of this suggested that I would have a very pleasant future. Either I would get cancer again…or I’d be consumed by worry over getting cancer again.

Reality turned out to be quite different.

The more (1) I practiced being present, coupled with the (2) increasing distance between my last dose and today, the easier it has become. Now, that might sound like a no-brainer, but it was news to me.

And I don’t know exactly when I turned the corner on my fear but it was probably after the worst letrozole side effects ceased and I was able to reflect on and accept that cancer happened and now I was moving past it.

It took years to get to that point, but it would have probably come sooner if I hadn’t convinced myself that I’d never get there.

And how are things different now? I don’t think of cancer every minute of every day. And when I do think about it, it doesn’t seem as daunting.

So far, so good.

I realized this after meeting a cancer survivor who works at a store that I frequent. She revealed that she’d just received her three-year “all-clear”. The relief on her face was unmistakable.

And it struck me that I used to have that incredible sense of gratitude too. And I still kind of do for a short bit, but it fades quickly as I turn my focus to the rest of my daily responsibilities.

Yes, I am still seeing my oncologist twice a year, having annual 3D mammograms AND the occasional MRI, so it’s less likely that something’s going to sneak up on me. But the concern is no longer as all-encompassing because it doesn’t feel as likely.

Of course, I could be kidding myself. Even after six-plus years I know that every set of scan results is a door to either “no evidence of disease (NED)” or “we’ll get you in to see the oncologist ASAP”. So far I keep going through the NED door…and it keeps opening onto a bright day.

In the midst of taking things for granted, it’s nice to stop and think about that.

Just One Day

If you had one day to live, how would you live it?

I pondered this question last week as I was trying to calm myself down before teaching my first official public yoga class, while also juggling emotions about certain events at home over which I had no control. Read that as: anxiety.

And in the midst of this all-too-familiar emotional turmoil I felt myself being consumed by my thoughts. And yet, if I had only one day left on this earth, I can’t image that I’d let myself get mired in everyday worries. My perspective would immediately snap into a megawide view of everything that exists in the world.

Never was I so aware of every palm tree…

It would be easier to see the beauty everywhere. Consider this: when I returned to Southern California after four bitterly cold years in a Northern climate, I noticed every.single.palm tree. I was so aware of everything that I had missed during my years away and appreciated every ray of warm sunshine. Other cares temporarily fell away as I was filled with gratitude to be back.

If I had only one day to enjoy the world, I hope that I wouldn’t spend it lamenting over little things. I would sit with my face to the sun, smell the breeze, take deep breaths and appreciate the here and now. Accepting that I had only 24 hours, I imagine that I wouldn’t be ruminating about something a co-worker said to me in passing or how I really should be cleaning the bathroom more often.

So interesting that it would take facing the end of my days to begin truly appreciating them.

So how about this (and this was what I meditated on last week in the midst of nervous feelings), why not imagine the feelings of that last precious day every single day? Stop and feel into my feet on the ground and the air in my lungs. There is so much wonder all around us and what a pity that it takes a drastic event to experience a perspective shift.

It feels so glorious to be alive.

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Don’t get me wrong, the shock of knowing that your end is near could be devastating. So if you’d like to use this idea as a meditation prompt, perhaps consider if you were on vacation in a paradise-like location and if your plane were leaving in a day, how would you enjoy your remaining time there?

Finally, This Is My Real 5-Year Anniversary

I was going to write about something else for this week’s post until I realized that I had another five-year breast cancer anniversary to share: the end of my radiation treatment.

It had run for six weeks, five days a week — going to the cancer center became a daily habit. But on October 23, 2017, I rang the gong signifying the end of treatment, said my good-byes to the radiation oncology staff and left them with baked goodies.

Cancer treatment felt like a never-ending vortex of scary experiences…but it did finally end.

With 2022 being five years since my cancer diagnosis, I’ve had a number of anniversaries to share this year. What makes Oct. 23 significant is that it marked the end of all the “tough stuff” that people scare you with about cancer. By that date, I’d put the diagnosis, surgery, chemo and then radiation behind me.

Because 2017 had been a miserable year, when radiation was done I thought I could finally take a deep breath. I’d waited for this point in my treatment for a long time and decided that I would lose myself in the spirit of the holiday season.

The problem was, you never really get rid of all your concerns. You release some, but others show up to take their place. I finished radiation…but wait, there’s more! Now I was going on tamoxifen and that brought a whole new set of issues, and yes, fears, with it.

So I spent Christmas season doing my best to enjoy myself but the holidays passed by and left me feeling a little empty. I’d expected a lot out of them and they didn’t deliver.

I had wanted to be free of all my worries but that’s not how cancer works. In fact, that’s not how life works either. It took me five years to figure out that I couldn’t get what I wanted, but what I could make of it was beautiful in its own way.

Admittedly, it was a tall order. After cancer, I tought the world would shine with joy, but that wasn’t realistic. Cancer isn’t the kind of disease you say to, “done!”, brush your hands off and walk out the door. It tags along behind you, if not as the disease, then as its shadow.

Fast forward five years to now…ok, ok, I know what I got wrong back then.

I had felt like life owed me something amazing because it had put me through cancer. I thought I deserved a post-cancer life that was perfect. Of course, it wasn’t. And it still isn’t.

So if there’s something to celebrate, it’s that I learned a few things over the past five years.

This holiday season I’m not going to be expecting things to wow me. But I am going to be enjoying the fact that I am still physically active and working the same university job, expanding my horizons as a new yoga teacher and finding fun ways to spend my time. And mostly, that I have moved past the feeling of anger that I felt about cancer and found some gratitude to fill its space.

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I know I keep going on and on about how much better life is when you’re not carrying the burden of anger, but honestly, if I’d known that acceptance would lighten me up this much, I would have done it sooner!

Gratitude: It’s Not Just for Big Things

A number of years ago, when my kids were still very small, we lived in an area with brutal winters. That meant sub-freezing temperatures for weeks at a time. Money was tight so we had to keep the thermostat in the 50s overnight and in the low 60s during the day. To make matters worse, our bedroom was in a part of the house that the radiator pipes wouldn’t warm properly, so it was always cold there at that time of the year.

Gratitude for a cup of tea and a quiet moment to write – that is enough.

And by “cold” I mean, the bedsheets would be literally frigid when it was time for bed. So much so, that my joints would ache and I’d be miserable until my body heat could warm them up.

This continued for a year or two until I found an electric mattress pad. The first night that I crawled under the sheets with the heat turned on, I thought I’d won the lottery.

There were so many negative parts to the years we lived there, but going to bed with warmed sheets overwhelmed me with gratitude for the simple pleasure of removing the pain of the cold.

The reason that I’m telling you this is that it’s so obvious to be grateful for the stark changes in our situation. It’s a no-brainer.

But there is no need to wait for something like that. There are simple things that we take for granted that it would be so easy to be grateful for.

Turn your attention to little pleasures and acknowledge their importance in your life. Take some time to sit and bring them to your awareness. Feel into how they lighten your existence. Maybe thinking about them makes you smile. Or maybe the fact that something is simply working properly can be enough to help us realize how fortunate we are to have it at all.

Whatever it is, open up and invite gratitude in.

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Maybe generating gratitude during bad times is exactly what we need.

Those of us who have recently gotten a cancer diagnosis may feel a touch bitter about this concept. Understandably, it may be easier to be grateful when you’re not dealing with a serious disease. And no one would blame you for having a hard time generating a mood of gratitude.

But perhaps that’s exactly when you should look for things that elicit a sense of gratefulness, no matter how small. It may be one of the most important things you can do to maintain a sense of well-being in a difficult time.

Re-writing Your Life

When I look back at the past decades, I feel exhaustion sweep over me.

Negative events may seem like they’re never-ending.

Cancer was not the only negative thing to come up in my life. There have been quite a few horrible things that have taken place, and at times I get overwhelmed by the thought of them.

This is not where, at my age, I thought I would be, and that’s disappointing.

But I realized that part of this disappointment is the lens through which I view things. Granted, I’ve had my share of misfortune, but when my life seems to be sinking into bleakness, it’s time to do something about it.

This calls for a change in perspective.

So I have undertaken a project. I am writing out the story of my life, but with a slightly different bent: when I come across a negative event, I pause and consider whether I can find something in it to be grateful for. I write about how I overcame it, rather than how bad it was, or how unfair and so unlike what others have had to deal with. I place emphasis on the outcome to avoid getting mired in anguish.

A difficult person in my life? I’ve learned that I’m not responsible for their happinesss, only for my own. A disastrous financial situation? I’ve found that what I perceived as a terrifying outcome can be overcome, and there is a light on the other end and a path by which to maneuver through it. A frightening health crisis? I now know I have met head-on the most daunting disease I ever feared that I would have and somehow made it through treatment.

Re-framing your personal history, when you’re ready to do so, can open you up to a glorious new view of how powerful you are and what amazing things you have achieved in your life.

I am still here. Re-framing the bad stuff is work in progress and it’s not always easy to let go of my familiar, well-worn, negative narrative, but, yes, I am still here.

I’ve discovered that my life is a story of perseverence. There have been numerous hardships and it’s true they’ve left deep scars, but I am aware of how they may twist my attitude, which has removed some of their negative punch. While I may look around and wonder why things have gone a certain way, I also see what I’ve learned and how I’ve matured.

If you want to give this a try yourself, there are a few things to keep in mind:
This is something for you to undertake about your life, not to be forced into by another person, nor push someone else into.

This is not about looking through rose-colored glasses or feeling that your concerns are not taken seriously, nor is this a squelching of negative emotions instead of dealing with them. It’s a step to the side for a different view. This doesn’t mean that those events were not disastrous or those who perpetrated bad things don’t deserve punishment.

You have a right to be upset. You are heard.

Re-framing your life in this way means that you give evidence to the exquisite being that you are, and to the power that you have within yourself. If you feel as though you’ve been chewed up and spat out, be gentle and start slowly.

When you’re ready, invite healing by releasing the burden of negativity and, pen in hand, allow yourself to reveal your strengths.