Relearning how to be alone

Posted in After treatment, Bumpboobs, Life by

This weekend was an interesting case study. Having done a BA in psychology (with no follow up) I love to think of my experiences as personal case studies. And here is another for publication . . .

Zsolt, my wonderful husband, spent all of Saturday fixed to his keyboard pounding out thesis corrections. I spent all of Saturday with my ass fixed to the sofa, doing little else. Contrast that to Sunday where I left Zsolt and his thesis behind and headed out to Tragos to meet a friend, which was followed  by having another friend over for lunch, to finally topping off the day with a little Zsolt/Catherine Donkey Kong Country marathon.

So, time to guess – on which day did I fall into a depression?

Finding A: Getting out of the apartment is my favourite non-writing activity in England. What to do on the weekend? Get out of the apartment. Doesn’t matter if you go down the road, to the tea shop, or visit the tip – if it’s out, it’s good, and for me, typically involves family or friends.

Finding B: I need to starting being active alone. If friends are busy, if Zsolt is occupied – who’s to blame that I collapse into sulksville? Me. A hundred percent me. And that is a problem.

Anyhow, getting out is good. Being with friends is better. Sharing time with my husband is awesome. But what about being alone, acting alone? When did I stop enjoying my self? Back in highschool I used to take walks to the football field and sit by the playground, watching the kids play soccer while I picked blades of grass. Sometimes I would lay in my backyard and count the sparrows that flicked overhead. Other times I tried to shrink the clouds by projecting warm thoughts in their direction. And then at night, if no one was around, I’d wash the dishes and sing with my reflection in the window.

Now that was quality alone time. Something has happened to make even visiting the tea shop difficult when solo.  And I don’t like that.

I love being with others and I love going out. But, it’s about time I loved being alone.

Conclusion: It’s nice to realize this problem – because a problem identified is on the way to resolution. At least, it’s a start. Zsolt has a lot more thesis to go, and I don’t want to fall into that chemo depression all over again (or make him feel guilty).  For some reason ever since chemotherapy I hate to be alone, but that’s over now; time to resolve the fear. Sometimes the best option is simply to step forward, take the risk. Hopefully next weekend when Zsolt is busy working and my ass has returned to the sofa, I’ll remember this post and get up – get dressed – and GET OUT.

Follow me on twitter

Posted in After treatment, Bumpboobs, Writing by

Phase two for my bumpyboobs  (Bet you didn’t know there was a phase one. Well there wasn’t I just like the term ‘phase two’, as though I’m really organized and have my life planned)  . . . Where was I? Right. Phase two for bumpyboobs:  Twitter.

Sometimes I can’t be asked to write an entire post, but shooting off a short comment is less intense.  So here we go, off to twitter land. My handle is bumpyboobs – do follow me if you are on twitter. I’ll follow you too. We can follow each other.  It’ll be a congo line gone circular.

Yay for brief statements about the weather, news, food, books, writing , random apartment occurrences, immigration and whatever else is on my mind! Plus notification of bumpyboobs postings (the best part).

Ok – now I need to go and work. By work, I mean read. And by read, I mean cruise the internet.  I’m trying to write a story set in the late 1920s and need some inspiration.

Bye!

Yes, we can

Posted in After treatment, Bumpboobs, Chemotherapy, Treatment by

Well, mark one for small victories. Yesterday I walked to work and it didn’t wipe me out. Ha! Recovery is a very good thing. And yes, I felt incredibly proud – evidenced by the stupid smile plastered on my face, and whenever I passed someone (construction workers, lady with groceries, man on bike) there was a deep urge to shout out: “Look at this! I’m walking to work!”

But I didn’t really do that. Everyone was walking, except man on bike, so really . . . Or, maybe everyone should have been celebrating their ability to walk? Yes! I can walk! Yes! I can breathe! Yes! I can see! Yes! I can bike! Yes! I can shout! And so on.

Not only can I walk, see, bike, shout, breath, but I can also read, smell, laugh, love, study, think, eat (and eat and eat), draw, write, sing, rest, sleep, run, skip, dance AND more.

Life should be one big party all the time.

I suppose we forget our blessings the way we forget our pains. Mothers tell me that while child birth is traumatic they forget about the pain, like the mind purposefully shelves it so that the body can continue making babies. Perhaps it’s the same for good things too, because if I never stopped marvelling at how amazing it is to walk, I may never stop walking – and thus be really late for work.

Who knows, it’s just a theory. Yesterday was nice because it was new, and a marker in my post-chemo progress. Walking is a simple pleasure. But yesterday, it was a great event.