Simple Tasks Are No Longer Simple

I know I’ve mentioned  how horrible chemotherapy is and was. How it still haunts my mind and bones…I’m still discovering new collateral effects daily. –Remember, my posts aren’t for sympathy. Just a matter of life. My new life. My new normal. 

I feel good. Really good with the direction I’m headed. I see lots of great shit. I will make an impact in the fight against cancer. I’ve already begun doing so.

    I struggle, as we all do. I struggle with a new guilt. A survivors guilt. When I first heard the words “you have breast cancer” I immediately thought the worst. And while I did feel like I was dying the five months during chemo treatments and eights months of breast reconstruction via expansion of my chest muscles….it depleted me….broken…..I was worn the fuck out to the point of total exhaustion….I managed to open my eyes….drowning….reaching for the top…trying to grab something tangable to keep me going….darkness….suffocating on toxic shit running through my veins…..Everyday was a struggle just to be…let alone the naysayers because they took issue with my life story…seriously?? How fucking large is your ego you feel you must impose your morals upon me…on your suffering friend… We see how you’re living…karma… that beautiful magnficent beast she is…last..laugh….. People judging me….judging you as they shove their faces full of McDonald’s fried My choices on my breast cancer. Running their fucking mouths, instead of trying to help me, my family, my mental health. I didn’t think I was worthy….beating me down even more… Even harder and more detrimental to my health as theses were supposed loved ones. Who cared  about me. Fuck the fuck off. You readers, who’ve experienced shit like this, I know it sucks. But you must seriously cast those bastards off, now.

     Your body is toxic, let’s keep your mind as clear as possible. No one on chemo should have to deal with that sort of fuckery…from anyone…
    I’m thriving. Like really fucking thriving in a way never before. And there are some, brave, courageous people out there, here reading, that are terminal. I know I didn’t inflict the cancer. Nor did I cast spells and shit on them.  

    I’ve watched too many friends, those I care and admire so much make that transition because cancer wouldn’t lossen it’s fucking grip. goddammit. It’s heartbreaking watching them finalizing their lives; ready for the unknown. I applaud the grace and beauty of which they all possess and reflect to me, to us. You are my drive, you feul my passion. I love the fuck out of each and everyone suffering from cancer….stop the madness.

    And then for those complaing ass pansy wipes bitching about an ingrown nail, or I’m bored with your goddamned  duck lips, or need a prayer for your loose colon….or your sneezing…we all have fucking allergies….get up, get outside, get involved with something other than yourself and trivialities.

    I’ve always felt like I wasn’t important, no one would recall who I was, worthless, afraid to really use my voice and speak for myself.  I see now, I’d never been given the life tool of learning self love, worth, value…. I had to learn that shit my own way. It took forever. I’m fit mentally and physically. Though I still see myself as a big person, I know I’m not. It’s hard for me see how small I am. So many negative worthless thoughts fill my head…more importantly so much of that bad shit is already gone. We all know that mental training is never ending. 

    And for those currently in active treatment, silently cussing me. Because fuck you bitch, I just had a chemo infusion this week and I can barely read your blog let alone imagine feeling good and fuck your cute self bouncing around and

    bragging about your new improved wellbeing while I’m sitting here chemo gut, thin bruised skin, mouth sores…..trust me I know. I was there. I hated those feel good posts everyone tagged me in. I mean I liked them. But is made me sad, a longing for something I had… It takes absofuckinlutely everything from you. I also know that if you’re here, it’s intential and you have that drive! You want to thrive. And you will. I promise. One day, you will smile. It’ll be a real smile. You won’t be able to control yourself. I’m doing things now that I never dreamed! 

    Becoming involved with, actively participating and making an impact in my community and beyond is important to me. I know I can’t save you guys. But if only a few read this and get screened for cancer….well then my efforts have been rewarded; thank you.
    Like ermahfuckinderg guys…

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    Like, I Can Literally Burst With Joy And Shit

    All I can say is fucking wow…I’m humbled by this whole experience. Three write ups in the local papers from the successful show! Everything!! The fashion show last weekend. It was actually postponed from October ’16, I was sick af at the time. Ulcerative laryngitis and lifesaving emergency surgery just two weeks before, fucking infection after infection. #LifeAfterCancer was sucking a big fat hairy ass. I don’t like pubes too much, so I made much needed internal changes. It didn’t happen overnight and I’ll never stop looking forward to developing new connections. Then being selected to throw first pitch in Peace Pacer’s Annual Pink Game, a huge honor. 💞

    I knew I needed to regain focus, develop my breathing {damn what a difference}, and began eating much better.

    This time around at the show, I knew I was in control and I’m making this shit happen; I didn’t want to feel like that messy unkempt person that I felt like.

    So I fully jumped into raising awareness about cancers, healthy eating tips, increasing daily activity, all that shit via here and fb. This is the type of information I obsessively searched for in those first few days of diagnosis. I needed to read real stories, from real women; profanities not needed. Just my flare. I also knew I was it the only one seaking real life blogs too based on message boards. 

    I know I already told you guys how much the YMCA has transformed my mind, body, and soul…I feel fucking amazing! Like I could burst out of my body or someshit. Maybe I’ll transform into my true alien form along with the few O neg blood havers on this earth….🤔

    Really. This time last year I was wallowing about on my bathroom floor for hours at a time, too weak to move a finger, an eye lid, the experience of the Macy’s / American Cancer Society Making Strides Against Breast Cancer #PinkTastic fashion show wasn’t even an inkling in my seriously deteriorated toxic-drug filled brain. 
    I continued working during treatment, it was a  very slow loopy kinda work. My words made no sense. The screens were melting on me. It was rough.I did slow down; many weeks are a horrible nightmarish blur….I never stoped…Knew I couldn’t. It was brutal af. You guys know. I shared….probably to much shit. But there it is. And here I am! There it was. I couldn’t picture life after cancer. Life during cancer was the fucking worst. Your body no longer belongs to you. You are a number, in their system, categorized all neat and shit. Poked, sliced, stretched, internally cleansed, weak, mental, urinary and poop-shoot involuntary succumbs to the toxic chemo cocktail and becomes useless, your arms, hands…fucking lifeless.  

     I not only survived breast and all the heinous acts involved with, I came out an even better version of myself. A self with goals. Plans. Getting my act together again, brushing off the last of the rumble; thanks in part to The Pretty In Pink Foundation, Wake Radiology, Raleigh Plastic Surgery, and the Taylor Family YMCA. 💪🏼

    I always knew I’d do something that made an impact. I’ve found it with the American Cancer Society!! Helping to head #Raliegh’s successful social media platforms for Making Strides Against Breast Cancer- Raleigh, NC – October 14, 2017 … & Relay for Life of Raleigh, NC – June 9/10 2017 makes me feel fulfilled.  💞 I’m seriously excited as fuck to see where this chapter takes me.