Oracle ✥ Artist ✥ Author ✥ Time Traveler

Fake it ’til you make it

cherry-bowlOh, holy hell. This cancer thing is HARD WORK. Pain everywhere, most of the time. The kind of tired that naps don’t fix. Vats of bitter green juice. 50-pound bags of carrots. Brain fuzz. Suckage of all kinds.

I’m super tired of it. Fuck cancer.

OPTION A — Give up, give in, die die die.

Okay, fine. My Kahuna cringes when I mention this as an option. However! We must keep no stone unturned. What’s so bad about dying? I dunno, except I’m not ready to. So back off, Scary Hooded Dude Carrying a Scythe. Go home.

OPTION B — Let it be, let it go, give it a rest.

In other words, stop complaining. Keep calm and carry on. Glide through life gracefully, under a long skirt. Be the ball.

Wait, what? Pretend you don’t have cancer? Gak. How….?

How to pretend you don’t have cancer when in fact you do have cancer — a lot of cancer (multiple choice).
  • Magic 8 Ball
  • Crying
  • 7 boxes of Kleenex
  • Wailing and rending of garments
  • Teeth-gnashing
  • Fluffy kittens
[Actually, none of those work except the kittens. And they do not work on weekends! (it’s a union thing)]

No, to pretend you don’t have cancer, you have to pretend you don’t have cancer.

I am saying YES more often. Saying NO when I need to. Going about my day — juicing, cleaning, enemas, supplements, martial arts practice, naps, writing — as if I can go about my day. As if it’s not a monumental struggle just to walk to the kitchen. As if I plan to stick around.

I am tricking my body into believing I don’t have cancer.

Nope. It’s not easy. The whole day is about finding balance. When to hold ’em. When to fold ’em. When to sit down because standing takes too much. When to lie down because sitting takes too much. When to blast through and tell your pain to #suckit. When to take an aspirin and whimper about your headache. Tango lesson? Sure, but what is the cost in energy? Blog post? Okay, but what else do I have to give up today to make energy-space to write?

Once upon a time I just pushed through. All the time. I was so proud! Push-push-push, you can do it go go go! I think now this wasn’t a good thing. Too much pushing spoils the broth or something. Too much pushing before the eggs are hatched. Too much pushing is a penny earned but not saved. Too much pushing gathers no moss.

Pushing is not the answer. Balance is.

How’s it working out?

Bowl of cherries, people. Bowl of cherries.



Join the conversation and post a comment.

  1. Penny Webb


    I know it’s hard. I know it sucks. My husband had glioblastoma multiforme, and we did everything and he did everything. And, he lived way longer than anyone expected. Like miraculously long.

    I read your blogs and I want to hug you and cry with you and let you know you are not alone. Never, ever alone.

    Keep fighting! Be the ball! You CAN do it!
    With love,

  2. Shawn Jezerinac


  3. cyn z

    I feel like you’re onto something… something maybe you always wanted to be onto. Does that mean you magnetized or arranged or anything else this? No. It means that in this situation, you spied a chance to do something you wanted to do and you are doing it. Good for you. Now tell that cancer to go on home! And good on the cherries! We love cherries! Zc

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