Perhaps I had the definition wrong?

 

when i wrote about being

in remission

and struggling across the bridge to wellness

it slipped my mind that remission does not mean

gone forever

oops.

 then when i was making myself a project 

to stay in remission

i was still quite convinced that remission was forever

and that was motivating the commitment to change.

[change always needs a motivator]

l i looked up the definition today.

{because i am no longer in remission

and this is difficult to accept and process

but i must because i will cross the bridge.} 

remission

a.  a temporary or permanent decrease or subsidence of 

manifestations of a disease.

b. a period during which such a decrease or subsidence 

occurs.

{so i was only reading the part i wanted to hear. 

my remission was temporary

and in hindsight, such a sweet and timely gift .

  i assumed it would be permanent. 

it was not

.this too is okay or soon will be .

life goes on. moves forward.}

so then because i was on a roll

 i thought i should refresh myself 

as to the definition of 

chronic.

constant, continuing a long time or recurring frequently,

having long had a disease, habit, weakness, or the like,

(of a disease) having long duration (opposite to acute)

{and so i made the connections,

 bought the chicken to make broth, 

cleared this weeks schedule of all that doesn't make my heart sing,

 and with the push of publish on this post,

 am gathering my tribe to help me}

you know what frightened me yesterday?

that it only took 5 days to deteriorate.

it was just last Tuesday night that i realized something was seriously wrong again.

that seems so short, you know?

but i am not afraid today.

{well, maybe a little bit. 

there are stronger emotions

 taking place that crowd out fear for the moment.}

today i feel like an experienced old farm hand

who knows just what to do,

and i am doing it.

so!

 gold star that,

   you ridiculous disease!

remembering my manifesto.

 

i spent a long time deciding what words would find their way 

into my manifesto.

i wanted to remind myself,

simply and clearly

of what i stood for.

what i believed with my whole heart.

those phrases are here

and because my manifesto

was only  written on my blog

and i don't go back and read over my posts regularly

(but i do occasionally)

i hadn't seen the words for what turned out to be too long.

i had forgotten some.

last week was tough.

and i needed some reminders.

i went searching to remember and return to the roots of me.

and i laughed when i remembered that i need to always carry benadryl.

now that i am eating again, that is a daily necessity.

and i had forgotten that i promised to light candles.

and so i have begun again.

the little things.

the ones we don't think matter, but do.

snail mail.

started that again a few weeks ago

and my goodness i felt grounded.

the big ones.

loving big and listening to my heart whispers.

so glad i put those on there.

so grateful i want to remind myself daily to be who i am meant to be.

the manifesto got copied out

all hurried and messily into my current journal

and i am finding myself returning to it again and again.

checking in on myself,

 remembering what makes my heart sing, 

using the words as boundaries and "atta girl!"

for guiding my days.

i appreciate this space,

even as i return to it less and less

because it allows me to look back,

to recall, to remind, to notice patterns, growth and stories of my days.

do you have a manifesto?

a guiding word?

{mine is stretch this year}

i recommend the practice.

"make yourself into a project"

 

he has said it before and i don't think i listened.

"make yourself into a project. you love projects"

and yet,

despite the love i have for such endeavors,

i have found myself  still resisting

wanting to meet myself 

and my self care

at an angle, 

sideways, not head on.

not honestly.

 avoiding

i wish i could tell you,

tell myself 

why i am so resistant to putting physical wellness in the center of my life.

i search through my stories,

looking for clues and of course i find them-

the pieces are all there

and i understand and i "do the work"

because i am a friend of the emotional and mental work of wellness

 i make baby steps

and there are moments of wisdom and breakthru

but i don't really do anything in the physical realm

(other than take my medicine)

(which is actually a huge break thru for me)

until the cycle repeats

 and i find myself

once again buried beneath the rest of my life.

does this happen to you as well?

i am in love with my life.

that's an important truth that i want to shout from the rooftop.

i have returned to a schedule that i have carefully chosen

and fully participated in the making of.

i work because i choose to, want to, love to

i am doing my schooling because it is important to me.

i participate fully with my family

 and consider each of those moments,

( regardless of how intense and weary, 

how late the nights, how long the walk)

 we share to be a gift.

yet,

i forget about myself.

the physical part of myself.

 i avoid the reality that i am brand new into a remission

that may or may not stay with me.

i need a plan.

i need to be a project. 

i want to figure this out.

 

seeing the truth of the situation is freeing.

saying that i struggle with wellness allows for acceptance and grace.

now i move onward.

project strong tania

i shall call it.

i see a new journal in my future

and maybe some running shoes

(for walking)

 

 

 

oh the stories i could tell

from August.

i am a tad late but in keeping with a series

here it is.

 

 

i really liked the stories May held for me.

Sunday

 

Sunday

sweet Sunday

the day for sleeping in

and drinking tea

for visits to book stores with my mama

and 

endless games played on the floor in the living room

for crock pots filled with stew

and warm fuzzy blankets

{the first day this september}

Sunday 

sweet Sunday

the day for early to bed

and late night journal spilling

for anticipations and determinations 

a bright shiny week ahead.

Sunday 

sweet Sunday

my most favorite day

 

navigating

 

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.

 

 

 

heart connections

 

i told her that every time we see each other

our hearts stretch out to make room for our newness

and i remind her that tears are so okay

and that i cry when i say goodbye as well.

i talk about how our hearts get that crushed in feeling when

it is time to say goodbye again 

and that while that feels really yucky,

the feeling we had when we saw each other

again was the feeling to hold tight to.

 

 our love for each other is immense.

i am not sure if there is a better word

and while she lives there and i live here

and she is young and i am old

those facts matter none.

we love each other.

 hello's and goodbye's

the reality of our lives is often harder than we wish for

but it is not an excuse or a reason

 to not continue to forge strong connections.

connections that are made deep in the heart withstand much.

she is not the only one.

she is one of a sacred few whom i hold closer 

than i can even sometimes understand

and  while not all of them are in the little's category, 

but i am blessed with more than a few tiny kindred

 i am so grateful that the scars on my heart

are not so deep and so wide that there is no room for such unabashed loving of each other.

the young ones in my life teach me that.

each encounter i have with them i am reminded that they do not hold grudges,

or forget that i haven't been around much lately.

they just pick up right where we were before

and we carry on.

 

this one and i shared our own reunion today

and we squeezed tight and chattered away about all that had happened

while we were apart.

she whispered words of love and affection,

telling me how she missed me, how sweet i am, how the "countdown chain" was finished

and i thought to myself,

"out of the mouths of babes comes great affection"

 why has it become so hard as grownups to shower love upon each other,

to tell one another how we feel, how we love them, how they make our hearts sing,

how we feel empty when we are apart.

if we soak up this innocent love offered up by our little's,

surely we could be brave enough to share our love with the big ones we cherish in our lives.

share your heart, friends. share your heart.

send a note, make a FB post, phone someone up.

spread heart connections.

like they do.

it feels so good.