I started the year tit-deep in radiation burns, planning a trip to PS, and trying on a month of detox to set my bod up for the double cut. Returning to work felt like a gift (for reals), Hawaii with my entire family still something I squeeze with delight and miss constantly, and marking a year of daily juicing a victory.
With the new girls in place to round out the last 12 months and eight vials of blood taken last week to test my health and finally turn the knob on genetic testing, I can safely say I'm done with hospitals and needles for awhile.
I'm proud of some shit. I kicked the chemical habit in my house. We all drastically reduced our meat and alcohol consumption and most of us said goodbye to dairy for pretty much forever. No one is a true blue vegan or gluten-free baking goddess. Not even Kris Carr could make me like Aloe Vera juice. But I'm putting some interesting things down my gullet and making progress in some areas.
Nutrition been's complicated. Feeding my girls good things has been complicated. Trying to figure out what level everything should be for me and for Pete has been complicated. I'm almost ready to stop focusing on that for awhile. That is, after I get a little 21-day adventure cleanse out of the way in January.
2012 is about working on my fitness and writing. Everything else takes a backseat. The good habits continue, to be sure, but don't get any more mindshare than they do. I feel like as much as I focused on my bod this year, I didn't really get to push it to its limits. And I need to. And as much as I wrote in 2011, I need to do double time. It's the thing that keeps me sane and present and alone and I love that.
So, off I go to a new year's eve party at the only place I ever truly want to be: with my family. That karaoke machine isn't gonna sing itself, right?
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Sunday, December 18, 2011
It's the most wonderful time of the year
Yes, malls are tres terrible. The quality of Christmas chocolate is a crime. And jesus, there are women being set on fire in Brooklyn elevators. Life is messy and there's no Freddie Mercury to make us feel a little better about it all.
And yet...
Man, I love December. For the promise of a new year just days away. Starting over. I covet January like nobody's business and nothing can make me feel bad about that.
To the cancer babes, Trish, Freddie and Susan, who will forever share my milestones and continue to be braver and look much better than I ever will. We will all have a bonanza year. Mark my words.
To Sharon, Shirley, Ashlyn, Pam and Carmela, who are knee-deep in cancer shit, I cheerlead you every day. The desperate guilt I feel for getting my respite now is only tempered by the fact that we all know respites can end at a moment's notice.
To my mom, who keeps pushing me forward in the line - you're next, Carissa, go! - I can't ever express what it means to have a person in my life who puts up with my shitty moods, sharp tongue, and impatience to be my agent, my friend and the person I least want to let down.
To my girls. Who are as impatient and foul-tempered as I am and still manage to be pretty sweet, funny and interesting to grow up with. You're both the reason I'm taking guitar lessons and joining a running clinic and juicing every day and trying to live a purposeful life.
To Pete, who grabbed my hand and dragged me outside for walks when I felt like dying. I chose to see myself as you did and managed to avoid the mirror and pictures of myself to keep the illusion alive. You never made me feel sick and you've been unendingly patient with my dark moments, even though they were about my fear of leaving you alone and that must have scared you shitless. Whatever I say can never be enough.
And to the friends and co-workers who surprised me with their caring, the bazillion messages, presents and genuine interest in my cancer bullshit... even the ones who were uneasy with it all. You made it feel less freaky and lonely. Which is really what any of us with the c-dawg are trying to feel every day.
You are all the reason I'm straining against my leash to get this fucking year over with so I can do, say, learn and become oh so many new and sparkly things in 2012. Bon appetit!
And yet...
Man, I love December. For the promise of a new year just days away. Starting over. I covet January like nobody's business and nothing can make me feel bad about that.
To the cancer babes, Trish, Freddie and Susan, who will forever share my milestones and continue to be braver and look much better than I ever will. We will all have a bonanza year. Mark my words.
To Sharon, Shirley, Ashlyn, Pam and Carmela, who are knee-deep in cancer shit, I cheerlead you every day. The desperate guilt I feel for getting my respite now is only tempered by the fact that we all know respites can end at a moment's notice.
To my mom, who keeps pushing me forward in the line - you're next, Carissa, go! - I can't ever express what it means to have a person in my life who puts up with my shitty moods, sharp tongue, and impatience to be my agent, my friend and the person I least want to let down.
To my girls. Who are as impatient and foul-tempered as I am and still manage to be pretty sweet, funny and interesting to grow up with. You're both the reason I'm taking guitar lessons and joining a running clinic and juicing every day and trying to live a purposeful life.
To Pete, who grabbed my hand and dragged me outside for walks when I felt like dying. I chose to see myself as you did and managed to avoid the mirror and pictures of myself to keep the illusion alive. You never made me feel sick and you've been unendingly patient with my dark moments, even though they were about my fear of leaving you alone and that must have scared you shitless. Whatever I say can never be enough.
And to the friends and co-workers who surprised me with their caring, the bazillion messages, presents and genuine interest in my cancer bullshit... even the ones who were uneasy with it all. You made it feel less freaky and lonely. Which is really what any of us with the c-dawg are trying to feel every day.
You are all the reason I'm straining against my leash to get this fucking year over with so I can do, say, learn and become oh so many new and sparkly things in 2012. Bon appetit!
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