Category Archives: Writing

A mushy self-discovery post

Posted in After treatment, Bumpboobs, Canada, Finding Home, Life, Love, Writing by

You know what? For the past five years – ever since meeting my Hungarian husband and flying away from Canada – for the past five years, I’ve been asking this difficult question: where do I belong? And it would keep me up at night. Honestly, I’d be awake trying to reason whether we should move somewhere in Europe, stay in the UK, go back to Canada, hijack things to Australia . . . when you’re in an international relationship, the concept of home and belonging are suddenly challenged. Growing up, I had no idea how much Ottawa was a part of my identity – and when taken away, there was this lingering question: Where do I belong?

This mini crisis peaked with the event of our wedding, one moment planned for Europe, the next moved to Canada . . . and still nothing was resolved in terms of the future. Zsolt and I had a dream: house, family, kids, day-to-day happiness and settlement. We wanted to settle. But where? I  began to imagine myself behind a wooden counter in a kitchen, with a red and white chequered apron tied around my waist and a hot pie cooling on the window ledge, which looked out over a lovely green yard with tall, solid trees – and everything would be just right. From the tidiness, to the location, to our lives. Everything, one day, would be just right . . . eventually . . .

And then I got cancer.

Which isn’t to say the dream of a clean kitchen disappeared. I still dream of a clean kitchen. And it isn’t to say the crisis of ‘where to live’ was resolved. Because we’re moving to Canada, but will we stay there forever – who knows?

However, getting cancer (surviving cancer) did change an essential aspect of my life.  I stopped asking: “Where do I belong?”

It suddenly felt like a stupid question.

Where do I belong? Duh. I belong right here – right now – in this moment. And what do I belong to? I belong to my passions, my writing, my Love, and myself.

It’s like a light was flipped on. In the past five years I’ve been hunting for my identity. It was challenged when I left Canada. It was challenged when I was married. It was challenged when I got cancer.

And so it was sharpened.

I am Catherine. I am a writer. I am a wife. I am a breast cancer survivor. And those are things that have no passport, no national identity, no alien status, and no dependence to anything beyond myself (and Zsolt, in terms of marriage). Where do I belong? Geez Louise, I belong within myself. Geography is a luxury, to be close to family a bonus, to have spectacular views, clean kitchens, pies on the windowsill – that’s all wonderful and welcome. But in this moment I’ve got my essentials. I’m where I belong, finally.

All right, today’s blog post is totally inwards, and so sorry for spilling this revelation all over the page. But it’s a good revelation, and nothing but experience could have brought me to this point. I suppose as things change, my identity will keep shifting and shaping, but at least right now, age 28, tipping over into 29 and feeling good, I’ve found myself. I’ve found my passion (writing, creating, doing). I’ve found the love of my life. And it all feels amazing.

Happy Easter!

PS. I might have found a sense of identity – but my apartment is still a mess! The other night – in the pitch black and total silence, there was a huge CRACK (I started screaming even before waking up from the shock of the noise and Zsolt had to settle me down). Turns out, my wardrobe collapsed onto the ground. Now there’s a pile of clothes tangled with hangers and shelving on the floor. What a way to get the moving purge started. I’ll need to pick through my clothes/tidy this mess and decide: Canada (to live), Hungary (to vacation), charity (to give me an excuse for more shopping). So, with a push from providence, the packing has begun!

 

Slowly saying goodbye

Posted in After treatment, Bumpboobs, Finding Home, Life, Love, Writing by

Ah the pain! I just wrote a page long posting in Word, only to absent-mindedly close the entire program (not saved) and lose my work. Blarg! Who says “blarg” anyhow? I think it’s a female. Maybe Felicia Day from the Guild? I don’t know.


Anyhow, this post was all about writing letters. Basically moving home (moving countries) means a lot of ties must be severed. In the past two weeks I’ve written some very final notices. Work involved a gushing letter – professional yet personal – of resignation that took a few drafts to achieve. Ever since a bad experience leaving a big employer (“pass me your vest and get out”), where I gave a thank you card and felt like an ass for the effort – I have hesitated in expressing too much gratitude.

But then, when people provide incredible support shouldn’t gratitude be shown? Yes, it should.

Therefore I started off my resignation letter like this:

“Many thanks for the opportunity. Should you have any queries, please do not hesitate to contact me. Kind regards, Catherine Brunelle”

And finished it like this

“You’re all so awesome, this place is awesome, our job is awesome. Everything’s awesome! And I’m going to miss every last bit of it. Hugs, Catherine”

Well, that may be an exaggeration – but you get the gist.

And then yesterday I wrote a letter to our landlady [if you want a good example of how to be a landlord, she’s it. Responsive yet distant. A very good combination in the world of accommodation.] and let her know we’re moving. Final month in Southampton: May. Beautiful sunny May when the roses bloom and smell like perfume. May, the month I felt my bump. May, the month my life changed. It’ll be post-cancer one year when we finally leave the UK.

. . . maybe we’ll come back, because apparently anything can happen . . . but for now, Canada and Hungary are waiting with open arms (of our parents).

So that’s the start of the letters. Next will come the papers for shipping, the agreements for money transfers, the ending of contracts and all thae inevitable red tape of life. Over the past four years we’ve settled in. Now it’s time to squirm out.

There you go – post about moving, take two. The ball is rolling and it’s only a matter of time.

Travelling is good for you

Posted in After treatment, Bumpboobs, Fun, Life, Love, Travel, Writing by

Yes! Punch in the air! Cross off my first vacation of the summer. It’s been about two years since Zsolt and I travelled (apart from trips home, but that’s more comfort than adventure), so landing those excellent tickets to Faro was a real treat. I mean, it was essentially a confirmation of my recovery from chemotherapy. For anyone going through the process of chemo, it will knock you down – but you will get up.

Totting a badeau bikini I went sans prosthesis to the beaches in Lagos. Really, my chest is so flat anyhow it’s hard to notice the absence of a second breast. Plus, my bathing suit has a busy pattern, which helps disguise the difference. Because it’s early April, Lagos hasn’t hit its peak tourism season. Therefore, we were actually able to find a beach to ourselves – like, literally, only the occasional sightseers came along, and even then they stayed just a few minutes. Essentially we had our own little resort amongst the cliffs.

In the mornings we would tour the old town, then pick up some pizza (gluten alert!) and fruit, head to the beach, and then eventually return to the guest house. We stayed in this lovely place outside of the city centre – it was about a fifteen minute walk, but worthwhile due to the kindness of the owners, the cleanliness of the rooms (five stars for cleanliness) and utilities provided. Plus, everyone who stayed at the guest house was really easygoing. I had forgotten how enjoyable the company of other travellers can be. When people are on vacation, they’re generally pretty cool. In fact, we even met a lovely Hungarian couple – honestly, for such a small country the Hungarians seem to be everywhere. I haven’t gone on a trip yet without hearing Hungarian at some point. We cornered this couple in the kitchen and essentially twisted their arm to play a card game with us (Zsírozás) – Zsolt was the reigning champion, but Dávid was quite a competitor. Meanwhile Hajni and I did our best, but seemed to get trumped every round. And I ate ice cream the entire time.

Now we’re back. I have the month of April off work because the students are all gone, and that’s how my contract rolls. However there’s plenty of writing to do. Tomorrow I need to rework a chapter of my fiction, plus add to Catherinebrunelle.com and figure something for facingcancer.ca. Also, I’d like to start an online literary magazine for breast cancer survivors and fighters. Something light, quick and easy to digest. I’m naming it The Narrative Nipple. (If you think this is a stupid name please do let me know, but otherwise it makes me laugh). And finally I’m filming a quick video for this website called ‘the day I found out’ which features stories from cancer survivors about the – duh – day they found out about the cancer. I’m not 100% positive there is a pin point day that I realized the cancer existed. . . first came the lump, then the uncertainties, then the worry, and finally the diagnosis . . . but I’ll run with the actual diagnosis date for this video.

And in the meanwhile Zsolt will be studying for his viva. The date is set for May 6th and the man is about to engage into full throttle study mode. Again. But I’m crazy proud of him.

Overall, it was wonderful to take a vacation. I think if you can afford the time, then make the effort to vacation (sitting in your backyard sans responsibility for a day counts!). If you can’t afford the time, then try and at least have a cup of tea in the sunshine. Pause is a very good thing.

Cheers to travelling, and being healthy again. Man, it was wonderful to walk the cliffs of Lagos and not get winded. Really wonderful.