Saturday, September 14, 2013


i keep picturing a bridge,
long and rustic, missing planks.
you know the type?
i imagine it sways a little, and is surrounded by deep forest.
there is probably a raging river underneath.
west coast walking bridge
 crossings are often wet and slippery.
and i never seem to have the right shoes.
 it is the bridge between illness and remission
and it is hard to navigate.
i made the naive, optimistic assumption
 while i was so ill that i would leap 
magnificently into remission when it arrived
and well, that has not been the case.

but remission is here. and i take each day it gives me
thankful and somewhat stunned
 as i eat a sandwich, 
or pop a piece of fruit into my mouth.
and i carry on with minimal pain,
 renewed energy and padding on my bones.

{i can eat most anything!}

the challenge of navigating the transition has been very hard.
{does that sound like i am resisting remission?}
i am not.
it is just  this complex mixture of gratitude and grief.
saying goodbye to one life, making room for a new one,
one that looks oh so different than i imagined. 

even in remission there is care to be taken,
side effects to navigate, expectations of myself that need to be considered.
i need to stay in this place of wellness
and that will only happen if i learn to be a gentle caretaker of myself.

{this lesson of care continues to be hard for me, even now, even after all of that learning}

i keep losing my footing in the gaps that are still present
the gaps of self care, 
the gaps of "too much" 
the gaps of false expectations
and i find myself stumbling forward, clinging, crawling,
 willing myself across.

"go all the way" 
i whisper to myself in the toughest spots.
 "it is bright over there"

the pace is frustratingly slow 
and i am having to be mighty, mighty patient with myself.

i am here. 
tentative and slightly bruised for completely different reasons
but the words are returning to me.
17 pages in 4 days have dumped themselves into my journal,
scrambling over one another to find their spot.
i go back, after i have written, trying to make sense of it,
circling, underlining, adding in with new colour.
i am grateful.
for the gift of bread breaking and the spilling of words.
oh so grateful.




  1. I just love that phrase ' a gentle caretaker of myself ' a lovely way to be kind to yourself. Heather x

  2. Remission: such good news! And, oh those those gaps in the planking - expectations, comparisons, weariness - I know them so well...

  3. Beauty! I love this post. And the photograph - as always - is a perfect complement.