I am beautiful

One of the hardest things about having cancer is how it makes you forget that you are beautiful. The scars, the bruises, the effects of drugs and chemo on your body make you perpetually feel ugly and awful and makes you want to hide all of your body parts because everything feels like it looks hideous.

So to make me remember that I am beautiful, I did a shoot as a pin-up right before I began chemotherapy. I think pin-ups - true, authentic 1940's pin-ups - are so sexy and beautiful so that's why I chose to do this.

Enjoy.

More shoes...

Fuck the other shoe.

There's a label on that shoe and the label is "trust". 

Not trust in the way that you trust someone when you let them into your life. I, in fact, trust too easily. I have very often trusted men in the past with my heart because they made me feel something. So I immediately trusted they would take my heart and eventually give me theirs in return, once I figured out how to be who I thought they wanted me to be.

But the trust I struggle with is the trust that someone will stay and be who I need them to be.

My family has always given me mixed messages when it comes to this. They are amazing when it comes to concrete things - I need money, I need a car, I need something tangible. But where they have fallen short is in the emotional arena. This has been made crystal clear this week. Won't bore you with the details but when my sister finally called me a week after my first chemo treatment (no contact before, during or immediately after) to "see how I was", she gave me about a minute and a half of her attention before the conversation eventually turned to how unhappy she is because her step-kids aren't taking care of the dogs and there's dog shit in the house. And all I could think was, I had chemo six days ago and you're talking to me about dog shit.

And it hit me. 

That's the big fucking clown I can't kill. The clown that dangles the carrot of love and affection in front of me and then sadistically yanks it away just when I can almost reach it.

Now, my family does their best. They really do. And my relationship with my sister is a work-in-progress, slowly growing. But I have to accept that she is never going to give me the connection that I need. Maybe my role in her life is to be there for her, with no expectation of return.

So when I finally find myself in a normal, healthy relationship, I don't know what to do. I keep waiting for him to behave the way I know - hang the carrot of love and affection in front of me and just when I'm a heartbeat away from actually getting what I want, yank it away from me and leave me to fall to pieces.

So right now, I get to choose. 

I get to choose whether to live by what I know and make myself crazy over and over again, waiting for a shoe that may not exist to fall. Let the dysfunctional lessons of my life continue to rule my world and just sit and wait. Because if I just wait, surely that shoe will fall.

Or I can choose to say fuck the shoe.

I can choose to figure both shoes are on the ground with nowhere to go. I can choose to trust that the Filmmaker is everything that he has shown me to be. And that when this does end, he will be everything he has shown me he is and he will hand my heart back to me as gently as possible. I can choose to break the dysfunction and see what happens if I truly trust.

"There's something so familiar and still so unknown
But the closer that we get 
I swear it feels like coming home
And I'm ready to be brave."

Wise words from Keith Urban.

I'm ready to be brave.

The other shoe

Waiting.

It'll drop.

I feel like it's already on its way down.

It's what I do.

I get close.
They like it.
I get closer.
They like it.
I get thisclose.

They're gone.

It's all I know.

I hope this time...

... I hope I'm wrong.

You

My hand
On your back.
The gentle rhythm
Of your breathing.
You move closer,
Unaware of even doing it.
Fitting in the curve
Of your arm
In the groggy morning light,
Watching you think,
Plan,
Wake.
That moment
After
Where there's nothing
But being wrapped in you.
You.
Me.
Nothing else
In those moments 
In between.
That's why I can't sleep.
You're not here.

Who am I this time?

I have been going through a very deep depression the past few days. And I think I know what it's about.

I don't know who I am right now.

I have changed myself so many times, especially over the past 25 years of my life, and now I find myself at that crossroad again, trying to figure out who I am this time.

When I started this version of my life seven years ago, I was knee deep in a fledgling directing career and determined that that was what I was going to do for the rest of my life. It was part of the reason I left my marriage - he was doing his damnedest to try to prevent me from directing and trying to control my career, such as it was.

Now here I am.

I haven't directed in almost a year and I really don't know if I'm going to ever direct again. The passion, the drive, the desire I had for almost 20 years is pretty much gone.

And, yes, I am an artist and I think that a huge part of my heart and soul that used to go into directing now goes into my art.

But I'm such a baby in that arena. Every day, I am face-to-face with how little I really do know and realize how much more I have to learn.

Facing cancer has spun my whole life around, making me really look at what's important and what I want.

And I really don't know any of that right now.

And I don't really want to start again --  again.

There is so much unknown in front of me right now.

And it's funny because I said this to my friend, Anna, tonight and she replied with, you're very good with the unknown, that's your life for the past seven years.

Which is true, to a point.

But there was always my directing career as the endgame, as the point I was aiming for.

Now, I don't know what the point is. I don't know where I'm going now.

I think I want to do comic books but I don't know. That's another huge glut of unknown. One of the comic book artists I know says I'm talented but all I can see right now is how much I don't know.

And since I've had to drop out of college for treatment, I don't know when I'm going to be able to go back and pick up where I left off.

And I'm in this relationship which, while it's really wonderful and the Filmmaker is amazing, I have no idea where it's going or even where we are now. I've tried not to look at it too closely and tried not to put that stupid, age-old question to him - where are we now and where are we going - because I'm afraid it'll scare him off. He's here and he takes good care of me and I adore him. But even with this, there's a huge unknown - for so many reasons.

Of course, the big unknown is my cancer treatment. And I'm a little tired of hearing, "You'll be fine, you'll get through it, you're a strong woman, you can do it."  And I might be fine and get through it and be strong. Or not. I don't know.

And I don't know what this treatment is going to do to my life or my relationship or anything else in the world.

And I don't really want to start over again.

And I really want to know what's going on and what's coming next. And I really want to know if there's a future with the Filmmaker or if I'm just filling time. And... And... And..

And I don't know who I am anymore.

I don't know who I'm supposed to be.

With my ex and with my family, I knew what the expectation was and I learned how to meet that expectation. I've been doing it most of my life.

And with the men in my life, the ones who took pieces of my heart but never gave me theirs, I kept trying to figure out who to be and what to be in order to get them to leave a piece of their heart with me.

But with the Filmmaker, he likes me exactly as I am and doesn't try and change me. Yet I constantly find myself lacking, deciding that he should/could/must want something more than this fat, depressed cancer patient.

So I'm overcome with not knowing, not seeing, not understanding where the next step is in anything in my life. My life has become today. And maybe tomorrow. And my next doctor appointment. And then chemo.

And I want to know more. I want more. I want... I want...

I just want to know.

That's it.

I just want to know.