The World Behind My Eyes

I know that nobody really reads this blog anymore (maybe a couple people, but not like in the old days) and so I'm using it as a place to just process things because I just need to write. Writing has always been one of my ways to figure the world out--both the world in my brain and the world in general.  In a few ways, I have been creatively on fire the last few weeks. I have had a lot of ideas for the plot of my dog musical and I've come up with a final title for my memoir (yes, I know, I've said this a million times before--but this time I actually mean it). I even designed a cover page. I don't know if this will be the real cover page, but I'm in love with how it turned out and everything on it has a symbolic meaning of things I'm going to write about in the book. I also love the fact that I was able to design it myself. I've also been dancing a lot--all the time; my favorite form of exercise and a creative outlet.  On top of all this, I've been able

 My cousin Colby would have turned 27 two weeks ago. It's coming up on eight years since she died. Lately, I've just been wishing I could talk to her about all kinds of things. The night before her birthday I had a dream that she visited me and I got to talk to her about some of those things.  I told her, "There have been so many good musicals since you died. I wish you were here for that," and she said, "Yeah, me too!"  I asked her questions about heaven. She said, "Well, it's kind of hard to explain." Apparently, that answer was good enough for me because I just said, "That's understandable." Ha!  Musicals were one of the common interests Colby and I shared. Singing, dancing--really anything involving performing. Not long before she died, we went to see my best friend Carlee perform in Little Shop of Horrors, a doubly treasured memory (because seeing Carlee light up a stage is always my favorite).  At Colby's funeral, I dist

So this past week in therapy I expressed something that had been weighing on me for a while: there is not a single person who can truly, totally understand all the places I have been in the past six years. My parents came closest, sure. And then I have my circle of closest girlfriends who have walked through (figurative) fire with me and have celebrated every tiny victory along this (wild) healing journey. But no one WENT to all the places with me. No one lived with me when I moved from Abilene to Waco--then across the country to California! Then, it fell apart--back to Abilene again. Then, to Oregon for a bit--then back to Abilene. Then to Houston for treatment, then to Waco during the pandemic. Then back to Houston for more treatment and to get my life going. Then back to California (and here I still am).  That's a lot of moving, right? That's a lot of life. I have a million stories about the wonderful people I met along the way: the people in all the churches I visited; my c

 I have felt this need to write about my life from a very young age. I remember telling a fellow cancer survivor that I was going to write a book about my story. I haven't ever done that, but I did write a poem in middle school about my cancer story and then again for a paper in high school. It's always been my way to process and share. It's cathartic. We as humans love stories--we love to hear each other's stories and we love to read fictional stories, too. The more amazing and beautiful the better, right? We love to be inspired.  I love storytelling. It's also why I love theater, dance, and film. I love to immerse myself in a character, or to be immersed in a story. I think if I were not pursuing my current career (or in an alternate life perhaps) I would have loved to be a choreographer or perhaps a director. I studied dance for a few years and I love just about every genre, so when a song with a good beat or good lyrics comes on, I can envision a dance in my hea

So I'm fully entrenched in my thirties now: thirty-one, baby! Now that I think about my twenties being completely removed from me, I can let out the deepest sigh of relief and dance right into this decade with all the joy and healing I now possess.  This is going to be my decade. I can feel it in my bones. I am determined to make that true since the last couple of decades were...well, "not my favorite" is kind of an understatement!  I'd like to leave the past in the past as much as I can. It's still tough though! I'm still grieving. I don't have anyone to directly blame or be angry with about the things that happened to me. It's not like anyone hurt me on purpose. No one misdiagnosed me on purpose. My doctors were all caring individuals who were doing the best they could with the information they had at the time.  As far as tragedies and circumstances, I'm not angry at God--and I really have searched my heart about this. I do have plenty of convers

So the saying goes that 3am is the time for poets and writers--and boy, oh boy have I found that to be true because here I am in the middle of night (early morning?) wide awake and I've been writing, journaling, praying for a couple hours, deep in thought and reflection about too many things to count.  I started re-reading my blog a bit ago and saw a post I wrote almost exactly a year ago and realized I wrote that excellent Karen Lamb quote I adore: "A year from now you'll wish you had started today."  She was totally correct--except for the fact that the last two years I did the thing! Two years ago, I was just starting my intensive treatment program, feeling totally hopeless. I never really thought I'd go back to school--definitely not a year later! One year ago, I was over a month into my first semester. I had just started, and it was really hard. I questioned the decision constantly last year! Could I really do this? Was everybody wrong to believe that I could