You tell me that it's evolution

It's been awhile, I know. This is the thing about having a job - blogging becomes rather back-burnered, even though I know it is the thing that has led me out of the big wallow and documented my cancer tour in all its glory.

By no means has the c-boat docked for good. It got a new paint job and lido deck, but it's there. Always there. The good thing is, I have no idea if there are any nasty cells in my bod regrouping and laughing at me and my sequin shirts and head hair. I say good, but it's also momentarily terrifying. Because I know that if it comes back, It will be nastier, untamed, and I'll doubt all the work I've done to get to this state of juicy wellness. I didn't feel sick the first time around, and fear a little every day that I'll miss the signs this time. It's a delicate balance between feeling myself up at every traffic light and thumbing my nose at the whole thing so I can just live my life. Aware and yet not aware.

Then I get word of another friend, colleague, woman of the world being smacked in the face with the cancer stick and I think - wow, I'm through that for now and feel lucky. And fuck if it doesn't make me angry that I somehow didn't get rid of it for everyone else.

Work has been a salve. It's normalcy. It keeps me focused on participating in another world where I can make another kind of difference. It's been an adjustment, though. My time is gone again. It gets sucked up so quickly and I need to fight this go round to make it all turn out the way I want. I'll figure it out. I will.

In the meantime, in so many ways I'm still the same annoying Carissa. I argue about stupid stuff. Lose my patience. Rock out to live band karaoke. Eat shit more than I should. And doubt my parenting skills every day of the week. But whatevs. My moments of understanding that this life is sparkly and I must sparkle in it exactly the way I want to are so there now - much more than they were before.

I still have a shitload of work to do. Exercise anyone? When the fuck do I fit that in with two clingy girls around my neck? Meditation? I do a few minutes every day, but I need more. Going vegan? I'm getting there, one less bacon slice a day.

And I'm not alone, right? There's you and you, and then you over there. And like KS said on Tuesday night re: my man about the house, "Your husband is a friggin' saint!" I mean, the guy ordered a sandwich today and asked the waitress to hold the cheese. If that isn't a revolution, people, I don't know what is.