…and it was out of the mouths of babes.
Well, a couple of Girl Guides who were trying to whisper in that same way that I try to totally not crunch the Fruit Loops I also totally shouldn’t be eating…
“….she has cancer.”
Complete with that young-girl-gossipy kind’o’stare.
That’s okay. It really is.
It’s also okay that I didn’t try to correct them.
My daughter heard it. She was standing right beside them. I saw the slight young-girl-gossipy kind’o’eyeroll and I knew she was okay.
It’s okay because 1) It totally didn’t hurt my feelings or 2) make me feel more “visible” than I’d wanted.
Oh, no…I’m ALL about the visibility now. Maybe it was because although I still struggle with steroid lotion and the general asshat-ery of my skin falling off…I had made a choice to continue to keep my hair gone.
Put simply, it’s a lot less feckin’ management and product cost.
But, it’s been on my mind a lot lately. Everything. Everything about the continuous pain or the stress of managing the Everything. Hair. Skin. Organs. Heart. Snow. Yule. Winter Break. Younglings. Money. Goals. Hopes. Virtues. Needs. Wants. Esteem.
I’d had a bit of an ugly cry a few days pre-whispers…essentially it hit about 2.2 minutes before I tried to leave the house for the school bus pick up.
Of course it did.
In a nutshell, I yammered on to the cats and the dog about the Everything and it ended with my looking at my leaking ocular orbs in the bathroom mirror with the weirdest plea I think I’ve ever made:
“I don’t know where I am…”
Send over the bubble wrap. STAT.
I *think*…because I’m not a psychologist…that I require a mutha’ feckin’ life.
Y’know…of my own. Reclaiming back the “me” that is “Me.”
Do I know what that means?
I sure as shit do not.
What I verily believe, however, is that living with this kind and level of continual pain, in the throes of being mandated to the management of the Everything, has left me ignoring the humanity that resides within “Me.” That part that makes Pattie Brynn Hultquist a human being. The part that makes me love scrapbooking and mixed media or the Cosmos or the ancestral lore of my heritage.
So, when a couple of young girls whispered louder than Fruit Loops that it was “obvious” I had cancer, it didn’t bother me that they were wrong. It gave me a wee epiphany, in fact:
I think there are a lot of people who are getting a lot about “Me.” very, very wrong.
I’m not my disease. I’m a multi-faceted person who has tread a journey of challenge and awesomeness.
I’m not my hair. I shall endeavor to watch Charlize Theron in “Mad Max: Fury Road” and be as badass and awesome as she….
I’m not the product of other people’s blame for not owning their own proverbial shit. *evil stabby glares at peeps who yammer and those who stay silent*
I’m not self-centered. I’m self-aware…and I know that if *I* am not up to par, I cannot begin to fathom how on this beautiful blue orb hurtling through time and space I could possibly be up to par to care for others. #selfcare
I’m a human being.
As the year winds down I find I’m reflecting on next year and what I want to manifest into my reality. I’ve chosen another virtue to study and I already see how it’s going to change my entire perspective and definition.
I most certainly do not have cancer. That was door #1.
What I have, is no hair. I now walk into shopping malls and grocery stores and I giveth not a shiteth.
I own this moment, because I can. There will be many more moments, and much more learning, I think, before I will truly know where I am.
But, while I might still be needing to learn where I am…I can tell you with absolute certainty:
You will *see* me, wherever it is.