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anger management

7/13/2016

1 Comment

 

Cancer and fucker have the same amount of letters. Coincidence? I think not.

Cancer IS a fucker. It is also a selfish, evil monster that wants to demolish everything and everyone in it's way with no feelings of guilt or remorse. It has met more people than I can comprehend, inflicted an unbelievable amount of pain in it's path and is a conniving sonofabitch. The moment I hear the word/name cancer, I feel sick to my stomach. My blood boils, my mind races and I try to not think about my own battle with it in fear that it will curse me into letting it seep into my being once again.

When I was diagnosed over 12 years ago, it was a huge Wake The Fuck Up slap in my face. I felt like a couple of hands grabbed me around my neck so that I would always feel the tug of that leash to constantly remind me that I will never get to break up with that Fucker. As soon as you start to feel like you shook off of that horrific Fucker, it creeps back into your life in all sorts of other ways. It hits on your friends, calls your relatives, spreads it's self all over the damn neighborhood and city to make sure no one will ever doubt who in the fuck cancer is. 

Since my cancer diagnosis in June of 2004, I have not had any serious symptoms that would give me reason to think that I would run into or have a "drive-by" with Fucker anytime soon.... until this past month. My initial reaction was that I kicked it's ass before, and I'll do it again, duh. Then reality of that Fucker possibly creeping back into my life popped inside my brain and I soon panicked about dealing with that bloodthirsty asshole once again. What is going to happen if that Fucker finds it's way back in to my life? My family is no where near MN, I live alone, I am self employed, and by the way, why do I need another god damn life lesson?  

After tests and Dr visits, I found out last week that the possibility of battling it out again with that fuck face is not in my cards and I am incredibly fortunate and unbelievably relieved.
I also have am immense feeling of guilt. 

Why am I so lucky beyond comprehension to personally be spared dealing with that monster once again?
Why are so many people that I love still being diagnosed, being treated or have a personal relationship with cancer in some way? 
Why can't we get a handle on this beast that is taking away WAYYYYY too many amazing humans and making so many lives a nightmare?

Looking back on my treatment, I feel like I got the easy way out. 
I only had a couple of lumpectomies, 2 months of chemo and 1 month of radiation. That is a walk in the park compared to the humans and dear friends of all ages around me that are fighting cancer with every fiber of their being at this VERY MINUTE and that is TOTAL BULLSHIT. 

I have so much anger and disdain inside me towards cancer that I can barely see straight typing this.
I am also at a loss as to how we can squash the fuck out of the Asshole Fuck Face we know as cancer.
I do know that Susan G Komen paid for my biopsy when I had no insurance, so I did the 3 Day Walk. The money I raised to fight Leukemia via a Team In Training triathlon went to many amazing children, so that helped a beautiful soul smile. We all do or have done something to give a swift punch to cancer's gut in hopes of it getting the hell out of here, but it it just seems as though nothing is ever enough to win the war. Of course donating time and money is definitely huge, and brings awareness to the fight, but I really wanna give cancer the big ass beat down it deserves. I want to look cancer square in the eyes and make sure it feels the agony it forces upon others, that it suffers on every level of it's being and is annihilated beyond comprehension for being such a greedy, disgusting asshole.

Yes, I have large amounts of animosity towards cancer, and I am OK with that.
I love most things, I really do, but I can firmly say that without a doubt I fucking HATE cancer beyond measure.
As soon as we let our guard down, that prick will trample everything beautiful surrounding it, and I can't let that happen on my watch. 
1 Comment

you talkin' to me?!

6/20/2016

1 Comment

 
Recently I was having dinner with 4 incredible women to discuss an upcoming event we would be taking part in for Passion Collective. Some of us had never met and were sharing our personal stories, tossing around ideas for future events, or asking questions pertaining to the event. Each of us were asked to give our "elevator speech" and while listening to the other guests, I heard myself state various times how much I wanted to do a certain something, or what I admired in others. It dawned on me how many things I still wanted to conquer on my Fear List and squash the yuck. 

Somehow I managed to chat about the many things that make me vomit in my mouth, and I referred to my Fear List, which included taking a burlesque class. Personally, taking a burlesque class would push me so far out of my comfort zone I would need a plane flight back, so of course I ignore it at all costs. The women that do burlesque are completely and utterly amazing to me on so many different levels. It baffles me to no end how people have the confidence to get up in front of others to rock their femininity, celebrate their beautiful body, and radiate strength. 

This got me thinking on a deeper level regarding my own fear of femininity and my Inner Bully. The grisly inner dialogue so many women have going on inside their head regarding their bodies and of themselves as a whole is overwhelming.

Why is it so hard for us to celebrate how completely AMAZING each and every one of our bodies are and what they do for us?!
Why is so hard to say "thank you" ?
Why do we push aside compliments and disregard it as if it's a lie, not to mention acting as if the person delivering it is just being nice or bat shit crazy for even thinking something kind about ourselves?
Why in the hell am I and so many other women so insecure with their femininity and/or bodies?
Is it the media? Past relationships? 
Are we scared of looking weak? Too full of ourselves? Seen as shallow? Stupid? Ugly? Trying too hard?

The thought of trying to be "seductive" myself is just so outlandish to me and just TYPING that makes me cringe a bit.
WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT ABOUT?! 
If someone I knew was telling me this, I would titty punch her right now for even thinking it.

Hell, I train people every day and remind my clients how much they kick ass, how they are their own worse critic and that they should never speak negative to themselves. There is honestly not a day that goes by that I have not admired another woman because of their strength, confidence, beauty or bad assery, yet I'd rather stick a knife in my eye than strut my own ass like I mean it, and I am not alone having those feelings.

I don't remember ever feeling insecure as a young child, but I do vividly remember playing King Of The Hill during recess outside on a winter day in 6th grade. I was gettin' my pushes in, vying for the top of the hill when my classmate Andrew yelled "look out for metro dome."  That fucking comment hit me so hard in the face it could have destroyed a small city, and until last fall, made me cry. That exact moment I stopped being an unblemished child and never felt the same way in my own body. Over 30 years ago and it is still as fresh in my mind as the day it happened, I even remember the winter jacket I wore .

In high school I did the stint that many girls did of starving myself to be thin, and then in my 20's ate in excess or binged to fill "the hole" inside realizing it was due to a shitty boyfriend that belittled me. These situations built an unhealthy relationship with food and my body for most of my life. I always felt like the chubby girl entering a party or room and deflected in all ways to not be seen as feminine (only STRONG!) I would dream about what it would be like to leave the house and not think about my thighs rubbing together, to not worry if my love handles were hanging out or hoping that no one was looking at my butt because they would think it was gross. 
Never mind that I was really great at sports in high school and college, was a talented artist, got to travel, had wonderful friends, met amazing people, had a supportive mother, etc etc. 

Personal attacks were going on inside my head at all times and I am not alone hearing those conversations with a negative Inner Bully.


I thought that other women presenting themselves as feminine or pretty, no matter what genres, were relying on looks to get ahead. In reality I was jealous of their confidence and bad assery to rock the hello outta whatever the heck they wanted to wear, want to be or feel like that day. 
How did they do that?
How can we teach that?

In my 30's I began to feel more comfortable in my body, and contribute that to getting through cancer treatment after enduring surgeries, chemotherapy, radiation and being bald. I could literally see how my body became stronger and healthier after treatment, as well as appreciate the tasks it could perform after such a shit show. Facing my fears of femininity after that time, however, were difficult after acquiring scars on my breasts & chest, becoming pre-menopausal, and just trying to re-acquaint myself with a "regular" life.

When my marriage ended at 40+ years old after being with the same person for a decade or so, it made my insecurities start to boil up again. Who would date a twice divorced, half boobed, cancer survivor?

Thank fucking goodness for being introduced to meditation at that time in my life.
Yes, I mention it a lot, and this was the time in my life that I have referred to as my Holy Shit Moment. It was THEN that I realized that my negative body image/self talk stemmed from those assholes from back in the day and I let them win. Their negative voices became MY voice and that is revolting and exhilarating to realize at the same time. 

What does one do with that serving of What The Fuck?
Take the power back.

I continued to meditate a crap ton, cry while envisioning the beauty I am capable of providing and feeling, and slowly embrace the love I have to share AND receive from others. I surrounded myself with positive friends, spent less time with Energy Suckers, pushed myself out of my comfort zones, reached out to people that I admired, tried out dating, and honestly focused on putting Good Stuff out there every single day. Every day I would have a positive mantra and after a while, positivity and strength became the normal for me. I viewed life as more than a task and could finally SEE the beauty in my surroundings and other humans. That is a shift that feels so effervescent it'll make your goddamn chest explode. I am fucking serious.

You put good stuff out there, it'll come back to you in all sorts of ways.

NO, it is not all fluffy clouds, bunnies and hippie dances. It wasn't easy getting to that mind blowing place inside nor will the work cease in order to settle there. I wish it was that easy to say "I made it!", but keeping my inner voice positive is a perpetual task and will be until the end of time. I face my internal Bully Douche Bag frequently and through meditation, unbelievable friends and a phenomenal dude in my life, I squash the fuck out of that Bully more often than none. 

I am proud to say that I can usually accept a compliment with a thank you. I sometimes rock the hell out of high heels cuz I WANT to and am a strong ass person for presenting myself any way I damn well want to: feminine, masculine, or in a damn Snuggie. For me, it's about being proud as shit when I feel good inside my own skin and appreciate what my body and mind is 
capable of doing.

Maybe your positive voice has way different & cool things on the agenda to learn, to squash, or to take care of and THAT is why you are a beautiful human. You are a bad ass and don't let anyone or anything tell you different. YOUR true voice should be listened to, celebrated in all forms, and never ignored. The bullies and negative fuck faces are just that. They wish they could have the strength to be themselves, but they gave their power away. Let's break the cycle of negative bullshit inside our head and towards others. Everyone deserves be heard, to be themselves, to feel valued and be loved. Forget about feeding a human Bully back their own bullshit, they don't deserve your energy or time. Ignore the Energy Suckers, or better yet, kill em with kindness, they'll never know what hit 'em.. That internal Bully Douche Bag is another story, kick it's ass to the curb, and show 'em who in the hell you are.


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1 Comment

How I Got Here

1/4/2016

3 Comments

 
It took me many sticky years and some pretty painful, scary experiences (there was a lot of good in there too) to finally come to my current point of clarity.

During my 20s I made decisions and acted on them in mere minutes. I decided to move to San Francisco at 21 never having been there except for a job interview, and lived everyday like it was my last: parties, booze, drugs, and bands. While attending a packed bike messenger party, I met my 1st husband while making fun of him, and shockingly, that marriage officially ended in firestorm when I was 31…..after a year of looking for him to grant me a divorce.  Before that divorce was final (remember, it took a year!) I was back in MN living with soon to be husband number two. He was amazing in so many ways, and didn’t spook a bit when I was diagnosed with breast cancer less than a year into our relationship at age 32. (We had so many hurdles in that relationship which made us very dependant on each other. We got way too comfortable in our relationship and it  fizzled out when I was 40 years old.)

The fact that I found a lump in my right breast showing my then husband how to do a self exam is beyond me. With no family or smoking history I was in disbelief and PISSED. I wasn’t about to let this asshole cancer tell me what to do, and somehow didn’t doubt that I am gonna kick it’s ass when I was told The Big News in June of 2004. Thankfully after 2 months of chemo, 30 days of radiation and the unbelievable and endless support from friends and family I did indeed kick cancer’s ugly ass.

My big progress toward enlightenment essentially began when my second marriage ended in 2012, and I lived alone for the first time in my adult life.  I dealt with it pretty much on my own since my best friend had moved to Charleston, SC, I didn’t have any immediate family in state, and I had distanced myself from friends during the end of the marriage because I was so depressed. My ex pretty much was my best friend, but now he was gone and I had never felt more alone in my entire life.

At times I wanted to embark on trying something new to get me out of my apartment, like take a class or muster up the confidence to have a drink alone at a bar, but was so insecure there was no way I could do it by myself. It honestly seemed totally insane to even ask anyone to go out with me, anywhere, because who in the hell would wanna go out with me? Everyone seemed to be in a relationship, or busy doing cooler things than I was, at least it seemed that way looking at social media.

After confiding in my sister in-law about how lonely and isolated I was feeling, which is so unlike me, she introduced me to meditation. The fact that a no BS, non gooey person said it helped her, I thought I’d give it a shot. That meditation shit was and still is a massive and total game changer. After trying it many times with no success and umpteen failed attempts, I soon had a major “ah-hah” moment, and it provided me insight to find my true happy.

I then sunk all my energy into my personal training business, stopped focussing on what I didn’t have and my business and social skills flourished .

Thankfully I was in such a positive head space when I got the news that my mother wasn’t quite right, and more depressed than normal. She had moved to Sparks NV where my brother Matt, sister-in law and nephew live, and she wanted to move back to MN after living there about a year.  At her first doctor appointment in MN she was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, and It looked like I was going to take on the position of primary caregiver,and proceeded to be that for her until she passed in August on 2015, 5 days short of her 75th birthday.

Watching my mother live in fear every day and seeing her constantly worry about what other people thought, made me feel helpless and heartbroken. Reflecting back, I realized she had pretty much started to check out after divorcing my father after 24 years of marriage when I was age 18. She had proceeded to lose herself and any scraps of her brilliance seemed to dwindle away . She taught me so many lessons in the year she was in MN it is honestly mind boggling and I will be forever grateful....That being said, I decided after losing her, there is no way I wasn’t going to let my life slip through my hands to ever say “I shoulda, coulda, woulda”. I was given wake up calls in the past and this one finally slapped some sense into me: I AM IN CHARGE OF MY OWN HAPPY
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