Of course

Of course I can't get over you.

You were, in so many ways, the first true love of my life.

At least this version of my life.

I waited almost seven years for someone like you. 

And you arrived just when I needed you the most... and the least.

When we began, I didn't need you. I didn't need anyone to make my life complete. And maybe that's why you came in when you did.

And then I needed you more than I ever thought I would. And you were there. Quiet. Effortless. Just there.

And you showed me that to love someone didn't have to hurt, didn't have to be difficult. That you could talk to each other without hurting each other. That things could be let go and never brought up again. That you could just be with each other and that that could be enough.

And it was enough. Even when I said I needed more, it was almost enough.

Almost.

And I think for a moment, you loved, too, as much as you didn't want to. And it was everything I ever wanted and never knew you could have.

And a year ago, you gave me a perfect Valentine's Day because we didn't treat it like it was. It was quiet and easy and simple. Just us. Just being us. Just enjoying each other. Just that. Just simple. The best Valentine's Day ever.

And I have never been with someone like you. So of course I can't figure out how to leave you behind. Because you hit me harder than maybe you've hit anyone before, simply because I've never had someone like you. You showed me such passion that you left me breathless. 

Maybe there are a million of you out there and I will find someone else who is just as easy and just as simple and just as perfect. And you will recede into that space of fond memories and comfort.

But for now...

I just simply can't seem to let you go.  I just simply wish we could go back and try it again, pick up and start over. And when I saw you last week and we sat and talked like we always talk, it made me just want to hold you and kiss you and tell you how wrong I was to walk away. Because I want you, I miss you, I wish you were here.

You are also the first one who has stayed around. I'm so used to wallowing in the pain and not understanding why someone has walked away from me that now I don't know what to do with the fact that you're still here, in my life.

And I'm glad you're here and I know it'll get back to being simple and easy with you. It already is in so many ways.

It's just hard to let you go at the end of the night. Because I really didn't want to let you go in the first place. Maybe I was wrong. But I don't think so. I let you go before you broke my heart in pieces, because I think that's where it would have gone.

And I hope you don't read this blog anymore because... well, because maybe you don't need to know this.

But on this day of love and hearts,  I just thought you should know.

You were a true love of my life. And I'm still here. And if you wanted to...

And I hope you find what your heart desires. I want you to be happy. You deserve to be loved in the most spectacular way. Because you loved me in the most spectacular way, even if you didn't mean to. And I still love you and probably always will.

Beginning/ending

A year ago, I was on the phone with my best friend. I put my hand in my armpit for some inexplicable reason.

Egg-sized lump.

And my journey began.

You've followed my journey so I don't need to re-explain it.

I finished treatment on January 22, just about two weeks shy of this anniversary.

It's strange because I'm realizing that I don't have to make my treatment my priority any more. I do have a bunch of doctor follow-ups coming up but other than that, I get to have my life back.

But I'm so used to talking about my treatment and answering questions about how I am and what's going on that now that there's nothing going on, I don't know what to talk about. It's nice that my friends are still asking and commenting and supporting me. But I'm starting to meet new people and cancer is still sort of the center of my universe. 

I need to re-learn how to have a conversation that doesn't start with "my treatment" or "my cancer" or anything like that. I need to just have a conversation. When people comment on my hair, which is growing out nicely, I'm starting to realize I just need to say, thank you, and not launch into a whole discussion about my treatment.

I need to begin to put this behind me and move into my new life.

It's hard, though, when the lingering side effects still invade my life. I spent two nights in the hospital this week because of a pounding heart. And I mean an alien is going to burst out of my chest pounding. After a ton of tests, emerged with a clean bill of health, other than a potassium deficiency. And then tonight, after painting a good chunk of the day and sitting at a weird angle watching the Super Bowl, my collarbone aches so much from radiation that it's almost unbearable. And the fatigue is epic and sneaky. I'll feel great and then all of a sudden, I crash and could sleep for eight hours.

So I have to move into this life while still dragging a huge pile of crap along behind me. Difficult to manage. Harder than any restart I've ever done in my life.

And weirdly, I was thinking about Munchausen Syndrome. This is a syndrome where a patient believes they are very ill and/or will make themselves ill so they will get attention. And sometimes, I understand that, in a twisted way. I've had a year of compassion and affection and attention in a highly exaggerated way that we never experience except in a time of trauma. But slowly, that will fade. People will still be lovely and compassionate. But that constant attention is already fading. And there's a sense of wondering how to get by without that constant attention. This is what drives strange people to do strange things to themselves to keep getting attention.

I don't want to be a Munchausen.

But I get it.

Now I need to move the attention back to my accomplishments, not my illness. Accept the attention that's on me, not my cancer. Still talk about my experience because, as a storyteller, it's what I do. But not make my life about cancer. Go back to making my life... my life.

So I'm doing what my friend's little baby girl does - sending my cancer to the trees. (He says she gestures to the trees any time she doesn't like something and says, "Go to the trees!". I love this.)

A year from now, I hope to be considered free of disease. That's the closest we can get to "cured". 

A year from now, I hope to be more settled financially and emotionally. Maybe be able to think about moving into an artist's loft so I have room to paint.

A year from now, I hope to be back in school and maybe knowing where to go from there.

A year from now, I hope to be in love again, with someone even more wonderful than the Filmmaker was.

A year from now, I hope...

Hellogoodbye

I kissed you hello again.
But really,
I think it was truly good-bye.
It was a letting go
as much as it was a bringing back.
The moment of hope
has faded 
in the reality of
life.

I'm glad you're here.
But you're still over there.
And I don't think
you'll ever be here again.
We'll pass 
and we'll say hello
and we'll be fond
and we'll be friendly.
But we won't be
again.

But I'm glad
I got to kiss you 
hello
and
good-bye.