Author Archives: Catherine Brunelle

If you happen to be in Ottawa

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If you happen to be in Ottawa next Monday, I’m speaking with Women in Leadership at the HUB on Bank Street. During the conversation, I’ll be talking to Tina (President of WIL) about creating a Kickstarter event, learning how to ask for what you want, navigating around pretty big (emotional) challenges, etc. It should be a good conversation.

They’ve started a Eventbrite page, so I’m linking it here should anyone like to join us and register. Of course, I’d be glad to see some friendly and familiar faces there. I’m going to put on my investment sweater and hope it works some magical powers. Really, me as an “Fascinating Woman”? I don’t know. But what the heck? There’s a first time for everything! Besides, as I have found with my blogging – everyone has a fascinating story, all you need to do is listen, ask and dig just a little.

So, see you there, or not. Either way, have a lovely week šŸ˜‰

(P.S. Oh my GOODNESS, I’m thick in the middle of editing. It’s totally thrilling and totally consuming. My eyes are going cross from all this screen staring. Happy days.)

 

 

Strange and Stupid

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It’s been such a while since I’ve last posted. To rev up my blogging juices, I’m writing directly into the text box on wordpress. This is quite literally going to be a post that’s hot off the keyboard.

Life has been busy. Sometimes that is good, sometimes that is bad. Basically the goodness or badness all depends upon my anxiety levels. Menopause + dealing with cancer = CRAZY Catherine. In high school some friends used to call me ‘crazy brunelle’ because I would do rather random things (which weren’t at all random, though I guess it might have appeared that way). Anyhow, that was one of the nicknames I had, and it was funny. Now I feel like at times I might actually be losing my sense of control, and that’s way less funny. Even if I tell myself:Ā  “these feelings are from the Zoladex,” I still have waves of anguish over not being able to have children, facing a life-threatening stage of cancer, deadlines, messy apartments, fashion choices, making meals, whether Zsolt is mad at me (he never is, I just get these momentary anxious moments where I’m like, “you have got to be mad at me!” and then he says he isn’t, and all is well again).

Anyhow. Sometimes it’s no big deal. But for some of the stuff, well, yes it is a big deal.

One of these big deals is baby making.

It’s rather frowned upon to have a child while in my situation. And the problem here is that most women in my situation stay in this situation. That’s their life. So having a child? Is it wrong to give up hope? Am I betraying that little baby I’ve been imagining since falling in love with Zsolt? Maybe. I don’t know. All I know is wrong or right, I find myself grieving the idea of that baby. I grieve the bedtime stories I wanted to tell them, the heirlooms I wanted to pass onward, the trips we would have taken, the tiny shoes I would have slipped onto their feet. I grieve the daughter I’ll never have tea with, and I grieve the son who won’t get a chance to compare, back-to-back with my husband to see who is taller.

There’s this whole world in my imagination that part of me is saying goodbye to, and it’s beyond the control of my determination. It’s hard, because I’m supposed to be a fierce mother – and that, I reckon, starts even before the babies arrive. Yet here I am feeling a deep loss – and I wonder if feeling loss equates to giving up.

Life has always been unexpected. So many good things have happened that I never expected. And, maybe I’ll go on to have children, or adopt children, or love other people’s children, or sponsor children, or mentor children . . .Ā  I’m quite certain, actually, that at least some of those things are going to happen.

There is this idea that embracing uncertainly is a good thing. It is. But I like to be certain, it gives me power. I like to be certain about my priorities, my loves… even if I can’t see the future, I want to feel certain I will see the future.

Would it be really stupid for me to say I want to live? I’m in the mood to live, and I’m not in the mood yet to die. Maybe when I’m 92, or something like that. This might be denial. But if this is denial, it’s sure as hell filled with a lot lot of fear and sadness, and I don’t reckon those things go hand in hand. If I could switch off that by pushing a button for some fearless, happy denial, I’d truly consider doing so.

So, will I live through stage four cancer? Well, I’m here today. And I’m quite sure I’ll be here tomorrow. And two days ago I bought a sweater as an ‘investment piece’, explaining to Zsolt that it was worth $60 because I’ll be wearing it a decade from now . . .

There are many things going on in my head. I guess that is why it’s good to blog and just let it all go. I’m letting it go into this space. It is moving out of me and onto this page. Out of me. Out of my head. More will come to fill it back up, but it’s helpful for now. Thanks for tolerating this little blurb about nothing that is also filled with heavy emotions.

(You know what is funny? When I was first dx and had treatment, I was embarrassed to admit I was afraid it would come back … as if doing so would take away from my determination to beat the cancer. Now that it’s come back, I’m embarrassed to admit that I could be okay, because it takes away from the really shitty realities of cancer at this stage. Strange and stupid in both aspects. I want to hope, and I’m allowed to be afraid. The two aren’t exclusive to one another.)

Happy Canadian Thanksgiving!

Posted in Bumpboobs, Canada, Food, Love, Novels and Stories, Writing by

This weekend is thanksgiving in Canada, and Iā€™m writing this post today because Iā€™m so incredibly glad for the occasion. Itā€™s a little bit ridiculous to be so glad for thanksgiving, particularly since my family long-ago gave up on the turkey and cranberries and mashed potatoes in exchange for Indian food . . . but the weather is just so lovely, and itā€™s always a pleasure to get all together. I canā€™t help feeling good about giving thanks.

YEAHA friend of mine recently said to me that itā€™s great to be a big dreamer, but even better to be a big DOER. And sheā€™s so totally right. I love to imagine sunshiny weather when itā€™s raining, but itā€™s even better to actually get outside when the sun does shine (I say while looking at the window and typing on on computer from inside the bedroom ā€“ okay, from between my bed covers.)

So I dreamed about self-publishing my book, and now itā€™s really going to happen. (I wonder if I dream of it getting accepted by some huge publisher, if that would happen as well ā€“ I guess the lesson here is to actively make these things happen.) I dared to ask people to help, which is actually rather intimidating ā€“ so I donā€™t know how Terri of A Fresh Chapter manages it time and again.

BUT you know what?Ā  Last year at the Mirror Ball in Toronto that raises funds for Look Good Feel Better and Facing Cancer, the hostess said something about asking for money that was so insightful and so valid, I still remember it. Tracy Moore stood up there on the stage and said that people suggest it must be hard for her and Sherry to go about asking for money during the night. But no, she asserted, it wasnā€™t hard to ask for money because it was going to a worthwhile cause ā€“ helping women navigate the emotional hurdles of cancer. Itā€™s not hard to ask because the intention is good.

So thatā€™s something Iā€™ve kept in mind. Now, with the kickstarter I feel much less entitled to ask because while the intention is good, itā€™s impact is also small. Thereā€™s just me and my book. Though I really hope it resonates with those who read it, and that is how the impact can become larger – hopefully!

But anyhow, all that aside, today Iā€™m thankful for being a DOER. Itā€™s not easy, but itā€™s happening.

Iā€™m also thankful to feel so much love and support. It is amazing. And I really mean it, too. It was amazing (Causing great surprise or wonder; astonishing) to receive such an outpour of support. Now weā€™re putting the book together bit-by-bit. I ordered more material for the tea towels yesterday, and am receiving edits, and have the cover with Ian, and am trying to learn more about ebooks (with some advice from Opal Carew). Itā€™s overwhelming, it takes all kinds of time, and itā€™s fantastic. Iā€™m grateful so many people gave their support to this happening.

* I am grateful for my breath. Air comes in and out of my lungs, and I love that sensation. Ever since the doctor said ā€œthere are spotsā€ I have had trouble in my chest. Trouble like pain, wheezing, etc. Whether it is psychosomatic or cancer-related, I donā€™t know exactly. All I know is that it is uncomfortable, and comes on and off. The past week or so Iā€™ve had some strong wheezing, and living with that sensation is truly challenging. Today the wheezing has backed off, and I am grateful for the ability to breathe in and out without that internal crinkling sensation. My mom gave me some drops, and I did some steaming stuff ā€“ honestly, I donā€™t know what helps, but so long as something helps, I am so incredibly grateful.

I am grateful for the tears, because they are easier than the stress.

I am grateful for butter chicken, which Iā€™ll be licking of myĀ  plate in a few hours.

I am grateful for family and friends and love.

I am grateful for an apartment that has been repaired. The handyman came by yesterday (and is here again today) and pulled out all our cupboards. Oh my goodness! You should have SEEN the MASSIVE holes behind our cupboards. SoĀ  of course the neighboursā€™ smoke was pouring into our apartment.Ā  I am not grateful of an inconsiderate neighbour who wonā€™t take his smoking outside. But if I talk too much about that my wheeze will return. Letā€™s just say that the holes are fixed and I am glad.

And last but not least, Iā€™m grateful for this blog, for the leaves falling from trees, for my husbandā€™s beautiful smile, for the tea we drink each morning, for the sunshine through the window, for hot showers, for friends and family, for the cottage weā€™ll escape to later this upcoming week, for the support Iā€™ve received in all kinds of ways, for chocolate chip cookies made without much sugar (little bit of coconut sugar) and no grains or gluten . . .

You know what else, Iā€™m grateful for feeling happy right now. It doesnā€™t always happen, but right now I am ā€“ Thank God ā€“ feeling good.

So Happy Thanksgiving! I hope you have a wonderful day whether or notĀ  you are celebrating the occasion.

~Catherine

P.S. My “Catherine Brunelle Writes” facebook page has a very small number of likes. It was pointed out that maybe I should give it more attention, so if you are in the mood for a little “liking” (and want to follow writing adventures with pictures, thoughts, etc), please do click here and like the page. Thanks!