The Journey

Do you see the upside down heart?  My sweet cousin Lisa pointed it out to me!

It was about this time last year that I started my journey with breast cancer. I could no longer ignore the lump I kept feeling in my right breast.  Could no longer push it off as swelling associated with my period or maybe a bump or bruise.  I went to my doctor, assuming I would get the exams, tests, etc. and be told- “oh, it is just a little, benign mass.  You have nothing to worry about.”  Of course, that is not what I heard.  I heard the dreaded words carcinoma and invasive.

You can read about my experience here: The Saga, The Saga Part 2, and Chemo Sucks

I am thinking about it now, not necessarily because of the anniversary, but because another one of my friends has recently been diagnosed.  She started her chemotherapy this week.  And then the clerk at the local convenience store,  who is also a friend and knows my story, told me that one of her customers had also just been diagnosed and did I know of a support group.  “I don’t know of a support group, but I am willing to be a support, here is my phone number, please share it with her.”

When I was first diagnosed, I was amazed at the number of women (that I knew-personally) that told me that they had either had or were very close to someone who had breast cancer.  The press calls breast cancer an epidemic.  Hearing that and knowing that are two different things.  An epidemic seems impersonal.  and "over there" not raging through my small town community.

In light of this epidemic, here are some things that I have learned on my journey.

Blame is useless.

I have blamed myself for my cancer.  I must have done/ not done, eaten/ not eaten, drunk/not drunk something wrong. 

I have blamed my environment. I must have been exposed to, involuntarily ingested, breathed in some toxin.

I have blamed my genetic makeup.

In the end, it doesn’t matter.  Whatever made the cancer grow, made it grow.  That revelation doesn’t mean that I will throw up my hands and just do whatever I want now- I will continue to eat a healthy diet, keep my weight down, keep my alcohol consumption under control.  What it means is that life is a crap shoot.  We try as hard as we can, do our best and “bad” things can still happen.

Pain is pain.  And pain is universal.

Although I am supremely grateful for the ease of my treatment and the quick return of good health, I still struggle with what this disease has stolen from me.  It stole my unwavering belief in my strong healthy body.  It stole my complacence that death is far away and abstract.  It stole my shaky, yet emerging, sense of confidence in my physical appearance. 

Most literally, most immediately, it stole my breasts and my hair. My hair is returning, slowly, slowly.  Currently I am stuck as the 1980’s version of Pat Benatar, but boobless and not as badass.  It’s hard, although not as hard as the 2 weeks ago Mon Chi Chi look. 

 

Mon chi chi, Mon chi chi...

 It whittles away at my self esteem, which is already sort of a meringue and toothpick sort of affair.  It makes me face up to how vain I am and have always been.  I didn’t feel vain, but the Universe apparently felt I was and sought to help straighten that out. 

My boobs. My boobs are gone and they ain’t coming back.  I am okay with it. and I’m not.  It depends on the day minute.  Physically it feels fine.  When I am walking around, I feel thin and strong- powerful even.  If only mirrors could reflect back how we feel instead of what we actually look like…

So here I am. Struggling.  Struggling and feeling small about it.  Is it really appropriate for me to struggle with my outward appearance when I could have died?  Can I really feel “less than” and boyish and not good enough when I kicked cancer ass last year?

Apparently, the answer to all those questions is yes.

It is uncomfortable for me to write about this and share that my armor of self-confidence and good spirits and happy-happy may have a pretty big chink in it.  But I am doing it.  I am doing it because it is okay.  And it is important to share that it is okay.

We all walk around with our game face on.  Showing that we are invincible.  Taking life’s knocks and keeping a smile.  I applaud this- it is important not to fold up and blow away with every little ripple. 

Equally important, and I am just beginning to fully realize this, is to recognize that sometimes you need to embrace your frailty.  And that there is no reason to try and quantify that frailty, if that were even possible.  Pain is pain, ours is not to judge, but to be kind and learn.  To hold ourselves, as we would our lover or our child, and let ourselves hurt. 

Because ultimately, it will be okay and the sun will shine again.

Be well my blog readers.  I hope that your sun is shining this week!

Angst

My friend Anna, who is uber-awesome, is writing a poem a day as her 2014 challenge.  That is 365 poems, for any of my numerically challenged readers, and that is a shit-pile of poems.  Here is the link to her blog, in case you are a poemaholic. Ingenious Torture (cool name, no?)

I am not a poemaholic and I have confessed to dear Anna that I prefer her prose on each blog post to her poems.  That does not mean her poetry is bad or that poetry in anyway is inferior to prose, my mind just works better in straight lines. No jazz, no abstract paintings, no chaotic juxtaposition of words or images for this linear, science brain.  It may be why I love weaving with its straight, logical sequence of events.

This?  YES

This? Not so much. (Rod Seeley)

This logical, sequential way of experiencing the world definitely has its advantages- project follow through, detail oriented task mongering, solving math problems...  it does, however, have its drawbacks- free flowing creativity is not my strong suit, I don't get to hang out in dark, smoke-filled rooms talking philosophy with beautiful, long haired, flowing shirt beatniks because jazz music makes my head want to explode.  All in all, having a linear brain is not nearly as cool as having a poem brain... although, I do appreciate my way of being and tax time doesn't really stress me out, so that's a bonus.  It also means, however, that I have to strike while the iron is hot- if I get an inspiration, I need to go with it immediately or it gets left in the stream- BACK THERE.

I had not intended to write about my linear way of being, I intended to write about angst (thus the title).  The idea came to me from reading Anna's poem Incantation - well, let's be honest, from reading her prose surrounding the poem.  So to come full circle (which is still linear, if you go slow enough) here are my thoughts about her thoughts.

 Anna writes about stress.  How ubiquitous it is and how we use that word to describe every feeling we have that we don't like.  I agree.  And I love her description of our students' relationship with it.  She  discusses how stress evolved to keep our bodies safe, but has turned on us in modern life and started attacking us, much like a feral dog that bites you because you have trapped it in a corner.  I believe we have trapped our stress response in a figurative corner and this is causing a lot of modern day issues, health and mental.  One most pressing and obvious- Angst.

Angst- (From the online version of the Merriam Webster dictionary): a strong feeling of being worried or nervous : a feeling of anxiety about your life or situation.

Anna's musings about stress made me think about angst.  Anxiety.  Worry, nerves, fear. My husband and I have ongoing discussions about this.  It seems to be an ever increasing issue.  Not so much for us.  I mean we have the regular worries about money, our animals, our health, but nothing overwhelming.  Nothing that stops our lives.  Yet, we hear others talking about this debilitating level of anxiousness. About having to take medication for anxiety.  While I have no problem with people taking the medication they need to live their lives to the fullest, I do wonder where all this anxiety is coming from.

I blame modern society.

OH! that is a broad, sweeping accusation, is it not?  But look at it this way: our nervous system evolved to deal with a certain amount of struggle (avoiding saber-toothed tigers and finding food and shelter).  We are chemically primed for fight or flight.  What happens to those chemicals when your biggest daily struggle is picking out which shoes to wear?  They are still there, ready to do their job, but without real, physical struggle all they manifest is worry and anxiety. 

If one had to spend all day physically working to get fuel for a fire, meat to cook, hauling water (you get the picture) one would not have a lot of energy left to worry about, let's say... whether your mother in law thinks you keep the house clean enough.  Which causes you stress, which causes your body to secrete the fight or flight chemicals which you can't really use, because honestly you can't out run or fight a thought.  Now you have this chemical storm going on and no real resolution (if you were trying to out run that tiger, you either would or you would get eaten.  Either way- situation resolved.  With thoughts, not so much.)

Modern society has made our lives so ultra convenient that instead of burning up physical energy doing something productive and useful, instead of building confidence and strength with struggle, we are left watching TV and worrying whether our electronic device is as good as the one in the commercial.

What's the solution?  Obviously, physical struggle.  And I am not joking about that.  I feel pretty well grounded, grateful, mostly balanced, happy.  I believe that is because I work hard, physically, when I am able.  I tote hay and water, shovel shit, dig in the dirt, ride horses - all these sorts of primitive things. Because the reward is in the struggle.

Sweat is good!

I believe if, as a society, we moved back towards doing things with our hands and bodies, as much as we are able, a lot of the angst would fade away.  We could un-corner our stress, let the feral dog run free.  Use our stress hormones to produce something useful, instead of slowly killing us.

I dare you to try it.  When you are feeling stressed or anxious do something physical- walk around the block, jump rope, wrestle with your dog (or kid if you have one), dance till you are gasping.  Do enough physical activity to make you tired, panting for breath tired, and see what happens with your anxiety.  I bet that saber-toothed tiger can't catch you.

Magpie swims!

I got the toy!!!

This little cutie pie loves the water! She will even jump off the dock!  We go every evening after work to swim and play in the reservoir.  Her brother, Bear, loves to swim too.

Jumping off the "dock" before the dock was put in

Willow, not so much.

Oh my God! I think they splashed water up my nose!  MOOOOMMM!

And of course, their cool chariot.

1965 Ford Ranchero. Yeah, I know, it's cool.

This is what we do for fun in summer.  After we do this.

and this.

Yes, this is me riding my horse. With bald chemo head. You can't even tell with my hat on, I just look like a bad-ass cowgirl!

and this.

Which leads to this.

Magpie enjoying the big stack of loose hay in the barn.

We pack a lot into a day out here.  Good thing it doesn't get dark until 10 pm!!!

Play Misty for me...

I was thinking about riding today.  Which, if you know me, isn't at all unusual.

From Rother Horse Camp- going again in May! Sooo excited!

 I do a lot of my thinking while walking across our hay field to work.  Right now, it is not recognizable as a hay field, it looks like a snow field.  There really could be anything under that thick blanket of white.  However, I know from experience what is under there.  GRASS! lots of it, just waiting to feed our horses, our buffalo, our sheep. 

Willow- Official Hay Inspector

But today I was not thinking about the grass, I was thinking about riding.

I was thinking about why I love it.  Why I pursue it, why I am obsessed addicted preoccupied  very, very interested in horses and riding. Why I work full time to support this habit.  And why, if i am this obsessed interested, I don't compete in horse shows or ride endurance or do dressage or jumping or competitive trail or SOMETHING. Sure, part of it is the time and money, but if one truly wants to do something one finds a way. 

Trail Challenge- Mailbox obstacle

When the student is ready, the teacher appears.  To me this means that once your goal is determined, the path to achieve it will become quite clear.


I thought "Why don't I have a goal?" 

As anyone with self esteem issues knows, this type of question can propel you into a s@#* storm of self attack culminating in something akin to:

 "Of course you don't have a goal, you are a terrible person"

Being in recovery from the perfectionist view point that perpetuates this kind of attack, I was quick to thwart it by asking the more reasonable question:

"What is my goal?" (better, yes?)

I realized I'm not looking for the perfect jump or the flawless lead change.  Or roll back.  Or sliding stop.  I'm not interested in going the farthest, the fastest or even being the prettiest.  I don't need a horse with an impressive pedigree or impeccable conformation. Because I figured out remembered what made me a horse crazy girl in the first place.  And I remembered what it was because an article I read on Equitrekking reminded me about Marguerite Henry.

Do you remember Marguerite Henry?  She wrote Misty of Chincoteague as well as a pile of other horse books (Brighty of the Grand Canyon, Justin Morgan Had a Horse, Stormy to mention a few...) 

I don't know this for certain, but I think Misty was the first book I read about horses.  I still remember exactly what the book looked like, felt like and smelled like.  It had this cover:

Well, after I read the article, I absolutely had to revisit this book, so I checked it out of the library. (We watched the movie as well, but the book is definitely better).  After I finished reading, there were certain images (feelings, really) that stuck with me.  Although the book is titled Misty of Chincoteague, it is mostly about her mother, Phantom, and how two children gentled her to ride.  How they climbed on her back with a pad and a rope halter and let her run full speed down the beach.  How they worked to gain her trust and how they trusted her to fly across the landscape with them on her back.

They reminded me what my goal with horses was (and still is). 

FREEDOM AND TRUST

I want that feeling of freedom that you only really know when you canter a horse on a flat open piece of ground or successfully negotiate that barking, charging dog.  That mutual feeling of trust as you leave the herd behind and strike out by yourself with a relaxed and confident mount.

Specifically, I want to saddle up my horse, ride down the driveway and ride down to the boat launch. And I want to do it this summer.  We are working on it, one step at a time.

So thank you Marguerite and thank you Misty for reminding me of what I am after.

Oh my gosh... is it death for the blog?

hmmm...

Since I have discovered Facebook, it has been pretty quiet out here in my blog land.  My nearly insatiable need to post photos and write cute captions has been quite satisfied by the social media format.

It's not like I'm trying to sell anything.

It's not like I have a life changing message to deliver.  Although I do have this:

Which is my new life map...

But it has already been posted to FB, so it is kinda old news.

I know that the blog has taken a back seat (maybe even a spot in the trailer!) since there is not a peep here about "the cutest puppy in the world" aka Magpie.

If you aren't going to blog about this, I mean what do you have left?

and now that itty bitty baby is this big, black monster:

Still pretty cute though, right?

Not really a monster, but let's say highly energetic...

anyway, I guess only time will tell if I still enjoy writing little stories here and sharing photos from our wacky crazy slightly different from the norm life!

Have a happy, healthy, super new year! 

2012 rocked over here, and we are hoping that 2013 will be even better (I can't tell you how awesome it is when you start to hit your stride with something...)

Horse Camp

Wow...  It is kind of hard to believe it is over already.  After months nay years of wishing and months of anticipation and a full day of stomach wrenching anxiety... now I am on the "done" side of Horse Camp.

For those of you too impatient busy to read this whole post, I can sum it up in two words:

life-changingly awesome

I mean Horse Camp, not necessarily this post :)

Cheyenne, enjoying his dinner at camp!

So it all began on Thursday, the day before official camp beginning, the day my dearest, darling husband had agreed to cut short his sleep and drive my under-confident butt to Hunters, WA.  With, of course, my buddy sour, never been trailered by himself, slightly over-reactive gelding (Cheyenne- as seen in the photo above) in the trailer. I spent the morning packing, worrying and practicing loading him (better late than never?)  He did pretty well and I was feeling pretty good about myself, although I later found out that our loading technique is about a C-, passing but just barely.

The drive was surprisingly (and refreshingly) uneventful, although we didn't leave early enough for Brian to get home with much time to get ready for work! Luckily, I am now feeling confident enough to drive the "big rig" myself.  Next year.  When I go to camp again.  Yes, I'm telling you it was THAT GREAT!

So here is a nice view of the whole ranch, photo courtesy of Rother Horsemanship:

Horse Creek Ranch home of School of Horse, Hunters, WA

 We unloaded, unhitched and Brian took off of like the whirlwind he is.  Cheyenne had his own paddock to hang out in:

He's a good eater, that one...

Which was in a super location above the big outdoor arena:

yes, the big red arrow points at him

My digs were even cooler.

The cabin.  No inside views, because as anyone who knows me knows... I am a little piggy and I don't want to post photos of my dirty laundry strewn all about..  Trust me the inside is equally awesome.

and the views... spectacular

So, I should say here that Steve and Francesca are just about the nicest, most down to earth, hardworking people you would ever want to meet.  They run the whole ranch by themselves, although they did have 1 (yes one) intern, Brandy, to help while we were there.  Brandy is also a super gal and a fearless rider!

Since camp didn't officially start until Friday, I didn't meet all the rest of the gals until the next morning. There were 7 of us:

• Cherie and Linda from WA (they stayed in Cherie's super cool new living quarters horse trailer), 
• Hedi from Alberta (yes Canada- she traveled the farthest! and she stayed in her trailer as well), 
• Tena from WA (she lives just a short ferry ride from the ranch.  She stayed in her camper), 
• Anita from AK (she flew down, no, not with her horse- she leased a ranch horse. She stayed in the little air-conditioned house down the road),
• Morghaine from OR (she is under 18 so her super mom was there with us all day, even though she didn't ride!- they also stayed in the little house) 
• and me.

This is one of the funnest groups I have ever been a part of, just sayin'.  We started out not knowing each other at all and by the last evening had already made plans to reconvene next year.

I know, I know enough about people and places- where's the horse stuff? Okay, okay.

The first morning we were asked to have our horses saddled and in the arena by 9:30 am.  It was predicted to be record warm temperatures that week (of course) so we changed up the daily routine and spent the hottest part of the day in the shady classroom.

Let me just say, in my own defense, that I have never had any formal horsemanship training.

Picture this:
6 skilled women putting their horses through the paces from the ground

and me...
flailing and chasing my horse around while he pulled me by the lead rope around the arena.

Yeah, luckily no photos of that. But here's one of Hedi and April (taken by Francesca I think...)

Hedi wasn't completely happy with this lope... I on the other hand would have been happy to not look like a kite flying behind my horse!

Anyway... Steve helped me out with Cheyenne (who, in his defense, is a really good boy with a lot of try and a teeny bit of a temper) and finally got him to lope in a circle - yay!

Then (and listen up because this is actually the most important, take home lesson here) Steve kept on me to do it.  Not in a nagging sort of way or a bossy sort of way, but in a "you know you can" sort of way, while interjecting helpful comments like "keep on him, keep on him. There! He tried now stop."  I just have to say hearing on DVD or reading in articles the key element:

The reward is in the release.

and experiencing it are two entirely different things. Release for my horse does not equal running up and saying good boy, good boy, good boy and patting his neck... He could give a crap about that.  His release is me stopping and letting him stand still.  And unless you've done this you have no idea how hard it is to do.nothing.at.all.

All my fear and nervousness disappeared as I starting using tools that actually worked.  I no longer cared that I wasn't as skilled as my camp-mates at certain things, I discovered my try.  It was unbelievable.  And even though I am still a flailer when it comes to ropes and such, I am willing to give it a go!

I am continually amazed at how much I don't know, even when I know I don't know much... ya know?

As a kid, I learned to ride with this philosophy:

1. Go: kick
2. Stop: pull reins back (as hard as necessary)
3. right turns: pull rein right (as hard as necessary)
4. left turns: pull rein left (as hard as necessary)

As you can see there is little finesse in this operation (and no room for things like, say backing or side-passing)  I added some nuances as time went by, like clicking, clucking, kissing, talking, cursing etc. with limited success.

But then, I went to camp :)

I won't give away all the secrets of what I learned, and even if I write them it would not be the same as experiencing it, but I want to share this basic thing that I did not know.  Did you know that you carry with you at all times the 4 primary riding aids?  Oh, you did?  Well I didn't.

1. Seat
2. Legs
3. Voice
4. Hands

Yeah, amazing.  I can now stop my horse with my butt, I mean my seat... cool.  And reins are NOT just for pulling his head around.

Okay, I know enough talk, let's see some photos!!!  Here are some shots of the trail course that Steve and Francesca built.  (Francesca took all of these photos)

 BIG STEP! Go Cheyenne!

Tena and Rio in the water obstacle.

And Anita and Ruby

Hedi on the Bridge over the water obstacle!!

I love this one- here is everybody doing something. Including Linda and Blue having a "discussion" in the background!!

Steve and Shiner.  We were all wondering what to do with this one!!

And then we moved some cattle (who seemed to know the routine... I'm just sayin')

In the arena

Morghaine and Rain, the masked mare

and through the pasture

 It is so fun to have a job to do with your horse.  Even if you aren't very good at it- I let the yearlings slip by me not once, not twice but three times before I gave up my fence position to someone more capable!!

We trail rode (my favorite!):

Our fearless leader, Steve

 It was hot...

in the shade...

So we swam:

Anita

Brandy

Cherie

That's me!

Tena

and cooled off in other ways in the evening:

Yay Cheladas!

Something I could do without flailing around...

There were classes in the arena:

Cherie

Francesca

And on the trail:

Cherie, Hedi and Grace the wonder cow dog!

Crossing Horse Creek

Coming up from the waterfall

And even a show!

Francesca with her minis and of course Dally the JRT!

And every evening we had the most amazing dinner here (and we got to ride our horses there, double bonus):

Dinner was catered by the local cafe (see below)

This is the most awesome cafe/hardware store I've ever eaten in!

Our patient mounts, highlined, waiting for us to finish eating...

But most of all we had fun!

So much fun, in fact, that we are all planning on meeting up again at camp next year! Hurrah!

The Posse!

Can't wait...

Bottom line is: Summer Camp was everything I had hoped for and more.  It was worth every penny and every minute.  And truth be told, I was the only one that burst into tears.