breast cancer survivors

I'm a big believer in the power of words, as you might have guessed from reading WhereWeGoNow. That's why I want to share a book with you: Healing with Words, A Writer's Cancer Journey, by nurse and writer Diana M. Raab.

This book is more than a personal story of one woman's breast cancer journey. It's a "self help memoir" written to encourage other survivors to use writing, or more specifically journaling, to express their emotions and reduce stress.

At the end of each chapter of Diana's story, she includes journal prompts to encourage reflection and response. Throughout Diana's experience, journaling and creative expression were lifelines and this book offers those same lifelines to the reader.

I found this book to be compassionately and poetically written.The inclusion of her journal entries in each chapter gives a raw and unvarnished view of what it's like to live through the diagnosis, treatment and aftermath of breast cancer.  

If you're thinking of starting a journal and don't know how to get started, this is an excellent book to read. 

Survival > Existence,

FTC Disclosure: I received this book for free from the author for this review. The opinion in this review is unbiased and reflects my honest judgment. This review also contains affiliate links that compensate WhereWeGoNow should you make a purchase.

After taking a bit of a breather the past two weeks, I'm back today with my first post of 2012. Just two nights ago, the calendar brought us all together to count down the last ten seconds of 2011. One night ended an entire year and began a new one. How do we recognize and celebrate the endings and beginnings which aren't so obvious? How do we muddle through the endings and beginnings which make up our "middle," the core of our lives?

Cancer survivorship brought definite endings and beginnings. It ended my 50 year run as a healthy person who never thought of herself as a "patient."  The immortality my children thought I had ended, leaving them aware for the first time that someday I would die and leave them. 

My mastectomy ended my cancer naivete, which I approached as my only hurdle, only to wake up and realize that emotional devastation trumps physical devastation every time. The ability to look at my body in the mirror without automatically hearing the word "cancer" also ended. 

In the midst of so many endings, were continuous beginnings. I learned to ask for help and was overwhelmed by the intensity of my gratitude for the many wonderful people who came to my rescue. I began friendships with those same people which I treasure to this day. My Gifts and Losses list was the beginning of WWGN. Since I launched the first WWGN blog post last February, I've connected with so many wonderful cancer survivors from around the world who share, support and enrich my life every day. 

I've learned a lot about accepting endings and beginnings by having cancer, but this isn't my first go-round. Twenty-three years ago, my husband and I decided to have a baby, thinking that the decision was the only hard part of the process. Our first miscarriage shocked us and was the end of the innocence. It took another miscarriage and years of infertility before our daughter, Emma, was born. With her birth, I felt a giant sense of "Hallelujah, we got exactly what we worked so hard for all those years. All is right with the world!" 

And that was certainly true, but endings and beginnings didn't stop with her birth. There was joy and wonder in every new word she spoke, every step taken. But there was also the end of our life as a childless couple who could concentrate on each other and come and go as we pleased. It was a big transition, always worth it of course, but still a transition. 

This year, we will face a huge ending and beginning when Emma starts college in the fall. I know I can't be sure exactly how it will go. But, as we continue to let go of her, I know it will be wondrous to watch her spread her wings and fly. I also know it will be a painful to end her years of childhood safe at home with us on a daily basis. 

I don't know about you, but I actually don't like New Year's Eve. It's a made-up holiday that forces an arbitrary ending and beginning. Is there any real difference between December 31st and January 1st? There isn't, yet we give it meaning and make resolutions and promise to start off fresh. If only for a few weeks, anyway, until we are squarely in the middle again and muddling through as best we can.

My cancer survivorship has continued to teach me about accepting endings and beginnings, whether they are tiny or cataclysmic. I think that acceptance is how we "muddle" through the middle. If we can also learn to celebrate these transitions, with or without noisemakers and funny hats, we may actually be on to something wondrous.

I wish you all the best endings and beginnings in 2012. As Oprah Winfrey said, "The more you praise and celebrate your life, the more there is in life to celebrate." What endings and beginnings are you looking forward to this year?  Are you ready to celebrate them?

Last week, I wrote a post about my need to reclaim the power of pink this Pinktober. While the "awareness v. research" debate rages on and pink ribbons festoon everything from toilet paper to Mike's Hard Lemonade, I feel the need to reclaim something that is even dearer to me than pink - and that is October itself. I love autumn. I'm not a winter sports kind of girl, and I'm not a worshipper of summer.  My season is first and foremost, autumn.

My enjoyment of the season starts at the beginning of September, which I associate with a new school year and new beginnings.  Since 9/11, the first two weeks of September aren't as happy as they used to be, before we lost a good friend in the Twin Towers. But we put our heads down and plow on, pushing forward to the cooler days of October and the wonder of leaves falling like snow in my back yard. The crispness of the air, the color of changing leaves, nesting at home, cooking soup - that is October to me.

I know a lot of breast cancer survivors who find the "pinkness" of October unsettling. I also know a lot of breast cancer survivors and their supporters who revel in each walk, pink ribbon and chance to show their support of the cause. No one is wrong. Each of us comes to this place having fought our own good fight and that is validation enough. 

Right now, however, I just want to focus on October itself and its bigger message. Autumn is a season of harvest and of preparation. It's a time to reap what has been sown and to get ready for the coming harshness of winter. Isn't that what all of life is about: trying to get meaning out of what has come before, while steeling ourselves for what may lie ahead?

Today, like I did for pink, I'd like to remind myself of what October used to mean, because I'd like to be both "aware" and "present" with this beautiful month:

2.  Carving Jack-O-Lanterns.

3.  Car trips to look at fall foliage.

4.  Apple picking and the baking of apple pies.

5.  Football Games and tailgating.

6.  The playoffs and the World Series, especially if your team makes it.

7.  Fall Festivals.

8.  Making costumes and trick-or-treating with children.

9.  Raking leaves - and jumping into the pile.

10.  Making a scarecrow.

I'm going to try very hard this month to focus on what makes me happy about the month. These are just a few things I thought of that make October special. I bet you can add more to the list. Let me know what you'll be doing this month to be present in this most wondrous month.

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