Princess For A Day

Something you should know about me…I love birthdays. I don’t love the passing of time or the effect it is having on my body, but I love celebrating my birthday every year. It is the one day of the year that I am a princess and I am perfectly happy with that. It is my day, it is about me. There are 364 other days that everyone else can have, but this one is mine. Sounds selfish, maybe it is, but tough. I deserve it. We all deserve to be a princess at least one day a year. (Anyone can be a princess, or whatever title you choose, no gender normative assumptions here.) If you don’t like birthdays, no problem, pick a different day, but for at least one day of the year be selfish, do only things you like and want to do, take the day off work if you can, do a facial, do something fun, do something silly, do something new, whatever you like, but whatever it is ENJOY IT!

For my big day I got my free Starbucks drink and I hung out with this pair of stoners who are wearing onesies to keep from licking their stitches. Yes, they make itty bitty onesies for kittens and they are freaking adorable. Kittens protesting said onesies by randomly dropping like those fainting goats…hilarious.

Maisy in yellow onesie (left) and Birdie in lime onesie (right) recovering from surgery and hopped up on pain medication.

– The Goddess

Valentine’s Day – COVID Style

It may now be redundant to say “COVID Style” as it is now eleven months since the first lockdown.  In fact, my birthday was the last to be celebrated before the world, well ok, my part of the world, changed and even then, I was sitting in a restaurant with my mother discussing my compromised immunity and what that might mean against this Coronavirus thing.  Now sitting in a restaurant with other patrons seems like complete folly. So much so that dating and meeting new people is a non-starter.  Not surprisingly then I am once again single on Valentine’s Day. There is someone I’d like to be closer to, but we’ve both decided to be law abiding and safe and so we chat and text and send each other memes and Spotify playlists, but I don’t think either of us feels we are in a full-fledged relationship and well that bit of hope, that glimmer of something to look forward to is good enough in these “challenging times”. 

This year one of the things I’ve been doing to amuse myself and hopefully my friends is to send my friends cards in an attempt to brighten their days.  I found a box of Valentines in with my stationery and if I had a friend’s mailing address and thought they’d get a kick out of it I sent them a Valentine.  Each one a scratch and sniff confection with a short Valentine’s message and a whole whack of stickers.  Some friends questioned if I was regressing in some way, some thought it was hilarious, and some expressed how touched they were by my bit of folly.  Whatever the reaction I hope that this bit of random silliness sparked a little joy in the lives of people I care about.  (By the way, if you are a friend and you didn’t get a card it means I didn’t have your mailing address and I will fix that by Easter!)

– The Goddess

And Then My Psychologist Told Me She Was Pregnant…

If you met me in person you’d think I was funny and possibly a bit silly.  Ok, actually when people first meet they think I am a bit serious and cold which they might even interpret as being rude, but as I warm to people and get to know them and figure out how best to interact with them, their beliefs, their humour, then they think I’m a ball of fun.  The persona I display is jolly, happy-go-lucky with just a touch of “fuck you I’m Teflon baby” for the haters in the crowd.  Growing up, my family talked in humour, seriously we quoted punchlines to explain situations to people.  (If you’re thinking “Darmok and Jalad at Tanagra” that’s pretty close.) My mother also had a very clear opinion on bad moods, I could go have that in my room, or somewhere else, but either way it was mine to deal with and I could only come back and be around people if I was in a good mood, or at least displayed one. Swallowing my emotions was the norm because we wouldn’t want things to get messy and emotions are messy.  This emotional training or perhaps stunting makes me fun at parties, but it also means that I struggle to express myself, especially when I am sad and honestly right now, I am sad.  I am sad in my bones.  I am sad for several reasons, but let’s just focus on 2019 and 2020 and I’m not even going to mention COVID.

My 2019 was cancer…cancer diagnosis, cancer surgery, cancer treatment and all that goes with that including, but not limited to hair loss, fatigue, pain, cognitive deficits, memory issues, balance issues, in my case the complete loss of any possibility of having a child, and fear, lots and lots of fear. 

In 2020, in chronological order, I was overlooked for a promotion, my cat died, my brother died, my brother’s cat died, my mother’s best friend died, and my mother is in a lot of pain and waits for yet another surgery.

Through it all I’ve been sad, and I’ve muddled along.  I am a privileged, white female and I have a home and I have friends and I just adopted two kittens and I’m taking workshops on adoption and I have a safe, union job, and I try to remind myself of all the positives in my life, but the loss and grief I am experiencing is suffocating. Add to that that my mother is my last surviving relative and she will be 80 this year and is not in the best of health and sooner rather than later I will have no family and it all gets to be a bit much.  Worse still is that I have worked hard to feel “normal” and celebrate bodies of all sizes and shapes and yet when sad and stressed my knee jerk reaction is to think “if only I could lose weight then xyz would be perfect” or at least better and then there is the even more cruel “there is no point of me existing since I have fucked up this life because I am too weak/useless/stupid to lose the weight and therefore of course I didn’t get that promotion that I worked hard for, of course the person of my dreams never came along and swept me off my feet, and of course no one I wanted, wanted to have children with me”. 

This week I was feeling particularly down and frustrating even myself in a “why can’t you just get your shit together” way and then my therapist ended our session by telling me that she is pregnant and due in March.

I want to be happy for her, I want to be happy for anyone who is happy and living their best life, but instead it was a gut punch, and the tears came hot and fast and I just wanted to slam my computer shut and run away. I was heartbroken and sad and the person I talk to when I am heartbroken and sad is the very person who is adding to my hurt.  For the record some part of me is happy for her, she is living the life I wanted, and I don’t wish to take that away from her, I don’t wish her any ill will, but right now I am unbelievably sad and I don’t know what to do with it.  I’m not angry with her, I’ve tried to be, I wondered why she didn’t tell me sooner, I wondered if she had lied to me when I mentioned previously that I assumed at some point she would have another child and that I was bracing myself because her last pregnancy had upset me and that was before cancer. I wanted to be mad at her because being mad is easier than being sad. I can fuss and flutter and scream and shout and throw my arms in the air and say “how dare she!” and “can you believe?”, but I’m not mad.  Her joyful news caused me pangs of physical pain and tears and all the hurt that I keep deep inside came rushing to the surface like a shaken tin of pop and I couldn’t avoid feeling it and I had to sit in it and feel additional pain for not being able to share her joy and celebrate her news and sincerely congratulate her.

I’ll get this under control, I’ll tamp down the hurt, I’ll smile and laugh, and no one will be the wiser, but what I really want is to not have to swallow it down, to not have to put on a mask of happy-go-lucky, to not fall back into my negative thoughts about weight and body image that seem to inevitably get tangled up in my emotions.  I just want to be happy in my own right.  My therapist would remind me that this is a “both-and” situation.  I can be sad about my infertility and happy for someone else at the same time. I can love and adore my future adopted children and mourn the children I didn’t have.  She’s right…I just need to work on seeing it for myself.

– The Goddess

I Know What Water Is

My mother’s best friend died in July.  John was in his late 80’s and it wasn’t COVID related and we knew it would happen sooner rather than later, but it was still very sad.  I was able to attend his funeral, with distancing restrictions, and I hadn’t seen the family in a few years, but when I heard his wife Mary’s voice as she spoke to mourners, weaker than I remembered, but still very much her, I was instantly flooded with memories of my childhood and family parties and most importantly strong feelings of being safe.  That all-encompassing feeling of safety that some of us experience and take for granted and don’t recognize until it is gone.

A new friend told me a story recently about two young fish who encounter an older fish and as they pass the old fish asks them “How is the water?” The young fish swim on for a bit and then one turns to the other and says “What is water?”.  A little googling and I found the story is attributed to the late David Foster Wallace, who was an American writer and Professor of English and Creative Writing.  I have seen a similar quote that goes something like I didn’t know water until I discovered air or something like that, apologies, I tend to bungle quotes as I remember the gist, but never the actual words.  Either way the lesson I take from it is that we don’t know what we are, or have, unless we question…I’m going to bend this a little…we don’t know what we have until we’ve lost it. 

When my father died in 2009 one of the things that upset me most was that I couldn’t remember his voice or his laugh and that I would never hear him whistle for me ever again.  It may surprise you to know that the Goddess once answered to a whistle.  I’m not talking about an actual whistle like the von Trapps, and I didn’t have to sound off, it was just four notes my father would whistle and my brother and I would come running.  I can hear your eyes rolling, “This chick misses answering to a whistle?”, but seriously it wasn’t like that, we weren’t in trouble, it was four notes that cut through the din of parents and kids and traffic and it was my father’s way of saying, I’m here, you’re safe, come and find me.  It was Pavlovian, I’ll give you that, but hearing those four notes and suddenly being awash in comfort and safety and love was magical.  I knew when I heard that whistle that all was well with my world.

This morning I attended Mary’s funeral on-line.  I suppose there is some small comfort that she was a widow for less than six months and she had been very ill for several years, and she can now rest.  As for me, I’m sad. People I love are gone and that feeling of safety and warmth that they invoked is gone with them, but then I remember that some people never experience what I had, and for a time I was bathed in love and warmth and I felt safe in a world that can often be very scary.  I may not have that right now in my life, but I did have it and it was wonderful.

– The Goddess

Garcia, You Got Friend-Zoned, Baby Girl!

If your tastes run to procedural dramas you’ve likely seen Criminal Minds and if you are bored senseless during a pandemic you may have just re-watched all 15 seasons, or perhaps that’s just me.  The series ended about a year ago and while I love watching crime fighters hunt the bad guys there was always something that didn’t sit well with me.  In the series a group of FBI profilers hunt serial killers and other baddies with the help of their technical analyst, a beautiful, quirky, chubby, computer genius named Penelope Garcia, played by Kirsten Vangsness.  For most of the series she flirts openly and shamelessly with the super hawt, Derek Morgan, played by Shemar Moore.  In interviews Vangsness has talked about the chemistry she had right from the first table read with Moore and how they continue to be friends even after he left the series.  Like most people I enjoyed the Baby Girl/Chocolate Thunder dynamic and enjoyed their flirty banter, but it never progressed, they swore they were the best of friends, they were all up in each other’s business and yet it was always very clear that they were friends, just friends. We all accept their tight bond and the wonderful relationship they had because we all know that the beautiful, quirky, chubby girl rarely if ever gets the hot guy or girl (let’s avoid being heteronormative). We don’t tell them to get a room, we don’t wonder why this pair just couldn’t make it work, we don’t question, we don’t even call it what it is because it’s just a fact, the quirky, chubby girls, no matter how smart, no matter how beautiful, no matter how well coiffed do not date the super-hot people.  It’s so obvious to us that Garcia would be friend zoned that we don’t even acknowledge it.

As the quirky, chubby girl I have had a lot of friendships with guys who are sweet and attentive and we go to the movies and we hang out and we text constantly, and we chat for long hours and we even cuddle on the couch and hold hands, but never does it progress into an actual relationship.  I remember when I was in my early 20’s saying to a friend that I had no idea how to get to the “next level” in a relationship.  She said that is just happens, but it never “just happened”.  Spring forward 20ish years and I’ve finally learned how to navigate the friend zone.  It’s not a terrible place to be, a lot of needs are met, but it’s also a hamster wheel and while spinning on that wheel my perfect person could come along and I could miss them because I’m wasting my time bopping along in the friend zone.  My perfect person might assume that I’m actually in a relationship and never approach.  (By the way, guys who friend zone you, but also give the impression that you are “with” them when other suitors come round are called Dogs in a Manger and those guys are truly creeps.)

I get that the friend zone exists, and that some of us seem to dwell there more than others, it’s just so frustrating that none of the other characters ever questioned our assumption that the Garcia/Morgan relationship would be more than a super flirty friendship.  No one asked why the beautiful, quirky, chubby chick will never be in a full-fledged relationship with the super hawt man.  Everyone talks about their amazing friendship, but no one debates why it never progresses beyond that.  Often, we hear couples say that they are each other’s best friends…so then Morgan and Garcia should be the perfect match, but nope.  There is simply no doubt in anyone’s mind that Garcia is deep in the friend zone, so deep in fact that even Garcia doesn’t question it.  The longest relationship Garcia has on the show is with the equally quirky Kevin and he was the only one who felt threatened by Garcia’s bond with Morgan, because, guess what, Kevin actually believed that Garcia was fuckable.  He saw all her hotness and smarts and he loved her for it. In the finale of the series there is a quick mention of office romances being inappropriate at the FBI, but sneaking around would have been a cute little plot point, Garcia exiting her tech-filled bat cave looking disheveled, Morgan wiping a big lipstick kiss off his face, I mean Reid was forgiven for sneaking off to Mexico multiple times without permission, so messing around with the technical analyst couldn’t be any worse. And hey wait a minute didn’t Rossi have an affair with their boss Erin whatshername?

Back in the real world the worst part about being stuck in the friend zone is that it means not only are our relationship needs unfulfilled, but it also makes it hard for the quirky, chubby girls to trust and even notice that someone is interested in more than harmless flirting and overly long platonic hugs.  Case in point, I’ve met someone, someone I really like, someone who I think has great potential for becoming my someone, but ya know COVID and such, who knows if we will ever get to make a real go of it, that said I had to have a difficult conversation with him yesterday because he is thin and very active, and I am not. He isn’t a BBW- or an SSBBW-Admirer and while I hate that some people fetishize my larger form at least I know where I stand with them.  He’s an average-sized man pursuing a plus-sized gal and I’m so used to being friend zoned that I had to admit that I was pretty insecure because guys like him rarely like girls like me. Ah insecurity, my constant companion. 

You may not agree that Garcia was friend zoned, you may not care about a character on a show that ended nearly a year ago, but you may want to think about why it didn’t twig with you that her being friend zoned totally sucked.

– The Goddess

My Word For 2021 is….

SLEEP.

It’s that time of year when we ponder New Year’s Resolutions and make plans and eschew bad habits and whatever your take on such things, I do like the idea of picking a word to frame the new year. I’ve been in survival mode for the last couple of years, both literally and figuratively and to be honest while I recall that I picked words for those years, unless Facebook happens to send me a reminder I have no idea what they were, but here and now I publicly declare that my word for 2021 is, indeed, sleep.

I’ve talked before about having sleep issues in the past and how my severe sleep apnea has caused me not only physical issues like extreme fatigue, chronic headaches, and weight gain, but I also developed a lot of behaviours to manage my condition. Mix with this my extreme curiosity and desire to understand how everything works and my chronic fear of missing out (FOMO) and I’ve developed a pattern of staying up too late or being awake too many hours and then finally crashing into a coma-like sleep when I can no longer function. Lack of proper sleep leads to poor judgement, which leads to poor choices especially when it comes to food and eating. Fatigue also makes completing tasks more challenging or take longer to complete, especially new tasks that require more concentration and focus. The fact that I was able to be so high functioning for so long despite my undiagnosed sleep apnea is in part a testament to my iron will and extreme “stick-to-it-iveness”, but the behaviours I developed are keeping me from reaching my potential. My doctors are always impressed when they see that my CPAP compliance is 100% (I feel like I’m drowning if I don’t wear it, so not really surprising), but I continue to have issues with the number of hours I am actually compliant. I’m reluctant to call my behavioural changes a New Year’s Resolution since that feels like it’s a short term thing, and this is a life change I need to make, but whatever we want to call it, changes are being made and tracked on my Fitbit app. I’ve set alarms to go to bed, to go to sleep, to wake up, but this life change needs to look at more than that. Truth be told I’ve had a bedtime alarm on my phone for over a year now, but I often dismiss it. Part of the problem, I am starting to realize is that I am very goal oriented and often want to finish a task instead of simply putting in time on that task. For example, I write “dishes” everyday on my to-do list, but even if I spend an hour cleaning the kitchen, I don’t give myself the check mark until that last pot soaking in the sink is done. So I ignore my alarms and my need for sleep until I finish what I’m working on. I need to realize, not just in my brain, but in my heart, that finishing a task today instead of tomorrow is not worth messing up my sleep. There is nothing wrong with having goals and there is nothing wrong with wanting to accomplish them in a timely manner, but they need to be realistic goals and me knitting a hat and doing all my dishes and cleaning the entire bathroom in one evening…is not realistic. Not to mention that the lost sleep often means that I make mistakes because I am tired and then I spend additional time fixing the error I made instead of progressing on the task. I also need to listen to my body more. Another of the behaviours I’ve developed from years of fatigue due to sleep apnea is fighting through the sleepiness with caffeine, food, or just waiting until that nervous energy from exhaustion kicks in. The other night I was yawning like a fiend, but I really wanted to finish up a hat I was knitting so I stayed up another three hours…THREE HOURS. By that point I was bouncing off the walls with nervous energy, I ruined the next day because I was exhausted and…I didn’t finish the hat.

It sounds simple, go to bed on time, wake up on time, but I’ve spent most of a lifetime not doing that…I am an adult however, I have agency and so now I am making a concerted effort to change these behaviours. Wish me luck and let know what is your word for 2021.

– The Goddess

It’s Coming on Christmas…

They’re cutting down trees.

They’re putting up reindeer.

And singing songs of joy and peace.

I don’t actually think that song is about Christmas, but let’s be literal and pretend. It sounds like it should be. This year Christmas is weird. Well, this year is weird, but for those who celebrate Christmas it typically means family and friends and get togethers and as Ontario enters it’s second province wide lock down…that’s not going to happen. The thing is we can dwell on what we can’t do, or we can focus on the things we can.

I work for a large organization and this year is a big anniversary. Since one of my responsibilities is coordinating large events I have sat in endless Zoom meetings in the last few months where my colleagues lament the fact that we normally would mark an anniversary with a few social events capped off with a gala event. We really can’t even consider planning for a post-COVID event because it’s likely that by the time we can once again gather in large groups we’ll be past this anniversary and well on the way to the next one. So these conversations go around and around and are full of “if only we could…”, “we might as well just cancel”, and my personal favourite…”maybe we can have a gala on Zoom?”. Actually, you sort of can, and I might enjoy a gala where I can go get a snack when I want and I don’t have to line up at the bar or for the bathroom, but come on we’re better than this. We can come up with a novel way to celebrate this anniversary, like putting the event money towards refurbishments, focusing on Health & Wellness initiatives, or compiling memories of those who have worked for the organization over the years. This isn’t meant to be an obnoxious, hey gang turn that frown upside down kind of post, I’m frustrated that this year is weird and that I can’t get together with people, but if we allow ourselves to dwell on the negatives, it’s really hard to see any of the positives. So like my challenge to my colleagues, I’m challenging you to find some novel ways to make Christmas fun this year and maybe we end up creating some new traditions in the process. Off the top of my head:

• Create a menu or choose a dish that you can all prepare independently and then eat “together”
• Create a Spotify or similar playlist together and play during the holidays
• Share stories about Christmases past, maybe collect them in a journal or a blog for the family
• Send each other mail, actual letters with stamps and fun stationery
• Enjoy a socially distanced walk or hike together
• Go for a drive to see the lights (in separate cars)
• Invent a new cocktail or choose a favourite and make it a tradition
• Challenge the family to create dishes with a novel or unusual ingredient and share the results

None of those may appeal to you, but I’m sure that you can come up with at least one new activity that might just become a new tradition. By the way, my new tradition…my mom and I are going to teach ourselves how to play the ukelele!

– The Goddess

COVID Cuffing

There is a story in my family…the gist of it is I was about 8 and my mother asked if I knew about sex.  My response…”Sure, what do you want to know?”.  While the full story may be a tad apocryphal in spots, I was a precocious child and I am a voracious reader so it is rare that I don’t know a term that is in common usage.  Enter cuffing…while I have experienced this, I did not realize there was a specific term for it.  According to the Urban Dictionary the term cuffing, literally derived from the idea of handcuffing oneself to another, relates to the annual practice of some singles who attach or “cuff” themselves to another single for the colder months, roughly October through to Valentine’s Day.  It is a short-term relationship that helps one pass the colder and greyer months until outdoor activities resume.  Cuffing is neither good nor bad, it just is.  Two people come together in albeit a slightly transactional or dispassionate way and they spend the winter months enjoying each other.  No harm, no foul.  What does irritate however is the number of people who are seeking cuffing, but they are not honest about what they want and come spring hearts are broken.

Cuffing has become even more prevalent due to COVID and now…winter is coming…

In the past few weeks I have had no fewer than five men who I previously dated and or exchanged numbers with contact me “out of the blue” just to “check in and see how I’m doing”.  Funny it didn’t occur to them in the last few years, not one of them was aware that I had been ill in 2018 or in cancer treatment in 2019, so this sudden need to catch up…seems just a wee bit contrived.  To be clear, I don’t have a problem with cuffing, if everyone knows the deal, have at it, but it’s not my thing.  I want to be with someone who wants to be with me, the real me, and there has to be something going on behind their eyes, a mutual caring and understanding…this wasn’t always the case, but all too often casual relationships have just left me wondering why I bothered to shave my legs.  I’m just so tired of attempting to create an emotional attachment with someone who isn’t honest about the fact that they have one foot out the door right from the beginning.  Every relationship has rules and as long as everyone is playing by the same rule book, have at it, but don’t tell me about the wonderful future we are going to have together and the life we are going to build together when you know you’ll be gone by spring.  Granted I’m not the best at honesty in relationships either.  I’m not great at admitting that I am hurt or sad, I never say I love you first, the fear of rejection is just too great.  The fear of realizing that someone is only in a relationship with me for the warmth of my form for the holidays…it’s just too hard, so I’ve spent a lot of my time in relationships accepting and acquiescing and avoiding the difficult conversations. Some people say being single is brave…true, I would rather be responsible for my own happiness and financial security than be with someone who doesn’t genuinely want to be with me, but it is also the sign of someone who is risk averse…go figure brave and risk averse at the same time…

Hmm, where was I going with this?  Right, as long as everyone is a consenting adult and knows the rules then knock yourselves out, but personally, I don’t want to be part of something with someone unless they actually give a care.  The fat thing adds another wrinkle…apparently, I should be grateful that someone deigns to spend time with me.  And now toss COVID into this mix…I am to risk my health for a partner who is just not that into me or at least not planning to be into me for very long. Last I checked the recommendation is that if we do engage in sexual activity with someone who is not in our “bubble” we are both to wear masks. I don’t know, but this reminds of that joke “why do Canadians do it on all fours ..so they can both watch the hockey game”. Back to my point, if someone is not interested in putting in the effort and wanting to know me after the snow melts then seriously why did I shave my legs, or better yet, I put my mask on for this?

You do you, no judgement here, but I’m tired. Tired of the being let down, tired of being treated like an object to possess and use and then toss back when something or someone more interesting comes along, and no I haven’t given up on love and I haven’t given up on sex and I still see the merit of shaving my legs for that special someone, I just can’t be bothered with people who only want me when it’s convenient for them. If you decide to be in a cuffing relationship and you enjoy each other and everyone is clear about the parameters then you get your hygge on, but if that’s not what you want, you don’t have to take what’s offered.

– the Goddess

Practicing Kindness

Little secret – I am a very practical person. Some people can wax poetic or ponder philosophy, me…I’m going to ask if you have eaten and if you are warm enough. Essentially I am the one in the group who makes sure that everyone has soup and mittens and I mean that, quite literally. I’m not against sonnets and navel gazing, I’m just not wired that way. This weekend I drove to the east end of Toronto to drop off some cowls I knit for a men’s group with which my Aunt is involved. Last year I made each of the men two hats, all different styles and colours, because I like people to have choice. This year I decided to make them cowls, warm, fuzzy, neckwarmers that take a lot less time and a lot less yarn to make than their cousin the scarf. I knit because it keeps me busy, it’s meditative, and also because I want people to have something handmade, something that will keep them warm and something that will show them that there are people in the world who care. I’ve been knitting for charity for many years, mostly because I am a prolific knitter and also because I am a process knitter, which means that I like to see the pieces come together, the pattern emerge, and the colourway develop, but once finished I am eager to move on and start the next project. When I got sick a couple people offered to make me knit goods and other than my knee jerk “oh no, I’m ok, please don’t trouble yourself on my account” reaction (yep, in a future post we will chat about my perfectionism and feeling unworthy), I had to admit that I don’t keep any of the projects I knit or crochet. I do have two long and bulky cowls that I made for myself to wear to chemo – fun fact, your bald head sticks to the vinyl recliners in the chemo suite like thighs in summer – but I will likely give them away. They are lovely colours and very warm, but they have been in my closet for about a year now.

It turns out there is a scientific reason (and I love science!) for my need, dare I say compulsion, to soup and mitten everyone. Good deeds release serotonin and oxytocin, these are the “feel good” hormones. Serotonin and oxytocin help to reduce anxiety, calm you down, and increase happiness. Boffo!

Nothing can make our life, or the lives of other people, more beautiful than perpetual kindness.

-Tolstoy

Add to that the meditative qualities of knitting (no really, it’s a thing) and I am feeling pretty groovy most of the time. Last year during treatment I did a lot of knitting. I donated or gifted 70 hats and various cowls, dishcloths and a few afghans. I’m not saying everyone must knit and not everyone enjoys making soup, but in these days of COVID-19 and the uncertainty this has caused for many of us maybe try a few acts of kindness and help give the someone or someones you care about a bit of a boost. It doesn’t have to take a lot of time, nor does it need to involve spending money or sourcing supplies, just call someone up, send them a quick text, ask how they are, read the same book or watch the same movie and discuss, take each other for a socially distant hike and do a little tree bathing. Practice a bit of kindness and enjoy the high.

– the Goddess

The Goddess Has Cancer

I made a pledge to myself when I started this blog to not apologize if I took a hiatus. I also never intended to be gone this long.

On February 26, 2019, after a year of feeling run down and struggling with excessive bleeding and several seemingly unrelated illnesses, I was diagnosed with Endometrial Cancer.

My first draft of this post was a detailed retelling of my story which includes a distracted family doctor, a dismissive, fat phobic gynecologist, and my reluctance to deal with what I assumed to be the onset of menopause and all that entails including giving up that sliver of a dream I was still carrying that I might have a biological child in my mid 40’s. I will talk about all of those things, eventually, but one, that was going to be an opus of a post and two, this story is not yet over. I debated on the verb tense to use for this post…The Goddess Has Cancer or The Goddess Had Cancer…both feel true. In April 2019 I had a radical hysterectomy and then was told that the cancer was worse than they originally suspected so the rest of 2019 was eaten up by chemotherapy, radiation and numerous medical appointments. I finished my last treatment on December 6, 2019, almost a year ago, and now I have five years of follow up appointments to watch for reoccurrence. Until this week I’d been harbouring the naive notion that all is well, the fatigue and brain fog from the treatment will eventually pass and the longer one goes after treatment with no reoccurrence the less likely it is and so I felt like I had ticked all the boxes…I got a gold star in cancer, moving on….and then this week I found out that one of the women in my cancer fitness class has had a reoccurrence. When I met her she was finished her treatment, her hair had grown back, and I hadn’t yet had my surgery. She is a runner and a pescatarian, tall and lean, and her cancer came back…she too ticked all the right treatment boxes, did all the right things, ate the right foods, and her cancer came back. So for now, we use the present tense and maybe that’s a good thing, maybe I need that bit of extra fear that my tomorrows are not guaranteed to motivate me to do some of things I want to accomplish in this life, Carpe Diem and all of that. I’d rather the universe had given me this push in a less life threatening and frightening way, but life is funny that way.

While I’ve been gone I’ve been collecting stories and having a few new adventures and pondering life and I’ll be sharing that with you and documenting some big changes I want to make personally and professionally and I hope you’ll join me in my journey. For now though all you need to know is THE GODDESS IS BACK!

– the Goddess

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LEFT: A week before my last chemo – me and a part of my ‘Cancer Crew” who took me to appointments, made me food, and listened.

RIGHT: My final chemo – you get to ring a bell!