Mental Gymnastics

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Each week I watch my daughter bend, stretch, curl, extend her body with strength and flexibility as she participates in a gymnastics class. There’s both an ease and grace about what she does as well as a great amount of effort and determination.

It’s been just over a year since I survived Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. Immediately post clean PET scan, I felt a ‘joie de vivre’ like no other time in my life. I was in a state of complete blissful gratitude. Rainbows and unicorns – probably really annoying to some but that wasn’t my concern at the time.

I was able to spend more time with my children, playing with them, doing activities with them, and getting to know them again as their full time mom. My husband and I enjoyed being ‘in love’ all over again. We found and bought our dream home, I eventually went back to teaching (a job I sincerely love), and then we received the biggest surprise of our lives: we were pregnant again.

We had struggled for years through infertility, the loss of the triplets, and a few IVF attempts in order to grow our family. My oncologist had told me that the chemotherapy I underwent would, ‘most likely’, result in early onset menopause. Um, apparently, like many other situations in my life, I don’t fit into the ‘most likely’ category. Thankfully, our little miracle baby boy came into this world big and strong on September 20th, 2016. It feels as though a magical stork has placed three healthy, beautiful children in my care and I feel more blessed than ever before. Again, more rainbows and unicorns.

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Me with my three kids enjoying family time at a local pumpkin patch before Halloween.

Now, here come the mental gymnastics I alluded to: I am about seven weeks post delivery of our son, Nathan. Today, I went in for an ultrasound, X-ray, and blood work in order to make sure the cancer is still gone after seeing my oncologist last week. Part of me is downright scared. The thought of being ill in any way again with three little babes depending on me is any moms worst nightmare.

And yet, just as Clara shows how brave she is every time she hops along the balance beam or flips into the foam pit, I need to push through that fear in order to get the tests complete and attend a variety of doctor’s appointments. I remind myself that, although the checkups are sucky, I am one lucky lady.

The main symptoms I experienced with my lymphoma were itchiness (that led to rashes), fatigue, and enlarged lymph nodes.

There have been times recently that I’ve felt an itch here or there. I’m thinking it’s just the start of winter and my skin is dry (no rashes though, thankfully!). I’m also feeling very tired. So, again, it’s probably just being the busy mom of three (including a newborn). I haven’t braved feeling the base of my neck around my collar bone since I had the biopsy done nearly two years ago. I have a large scar there and the lump I had felt there was the symptom that scared me and spurred me into action. (Really, it was my dear friend Fionna who was over with her family for dinner on a Friday night who I had told about the fatigue and lump who insisted I see a doctor ASAP and her worry is what really motivated me to get checked out.) Two weeks ago, I felt around my scar and felt a lump then but haven’t felt it since. So, this is either a bit of scar tissue or a regular sized lymph node that anyone would have anyway.

This is when I need to be both strong and flexible, graceful and powerful, thoughtful and spiritual. I can choose: let the fear consume me and steal moments of pure gold from me and my children or let the love override the fear and live in the moment when, at this point in time, I’m just fine. I’m here, at home with my family. I’m well enough to take care of them, play with them, get some exercise, eat good food … Chances are that I am 100% healthy.

I feel fear, like we all do of course, and it is a feat for me to continue to feel it, recognize it, and then move through it. I’m standing on the balance beam, I am supposed to do a flip to the other end (without bailing off the side in some injury-inducing fall). So, I need to lean into it, propel myself forward with strength and balance, and find myself grounding my weight once again on the narrow beam. Maintaining control versus letting go is simply a part of life for all of us.

The following is a thought pattern that happens in my brain many times a day, especially lately: busy doing tasks, a slight itchy feeling, fear the cancer is back, choose to continue to fear what that might mean or let it go, let it go, recognize the present moment and be in it~ my mental gymnastics as a cancer survivor.

 

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After completing my tests (which meant that I had to fast since yesterday) I treated myself to a delicious lunch at a bagel shop on Lonsdale. Yum! Perhaps not food fit for a ‘real gymnast’ though. Luckily for me, I’m just a mental one – insert jokes here-.

Healthy, Happy 2016

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Celebrating a positive doctor’s appointment with my almond milk latte outside of a Blenz in my old neighbourhood. So grateful for me health! 

It happened again today: I found myself talking to the universe and all I could say was, “Thank you.”

It’s happened many times before. Moments in my life when nothing else matters but the gratitude that is exploding from my heart and it’s so overwhelming that I don’t actually care who sees me and wonders ‘What the hell is that lady doing talking to herself?’ My happiest and most grateful moments have come when I met my husband, got good news from friends and family about their dreams coming true, got positive pregnancy tests, learned I was pregnant with triplets, gave birth to full-term babies, brought Clara and Evan home from the hospital, and got told by my oncologist that I no longer have cancer.

I walked into yet another doctor’s appointment this afternoon with no expectations. It’s been this way for quite a while for me. I really don’t worry much. The only time I lose sleep is if my kids are up or aren’t well. The rest of the time, my mind really is quiet. I’ve come to accept that there are a few things in my control and therefore worth my ‘thinking time’ and there are many more things outside of my control: Hodgkin’s Lymphoma being one of them.

Today was my three month checkup with my oncololgist. I got blood work done this past Saturday and hadn’t really thought about the appointment since. Just like the last few appointments with my doctor, I just showed up. It wasn’t until I was sitting in the room that it occurred to me that there were options as to what the blood work would reveal. Option A: all is normal and there’s no reason to go for further testing. Option B: blood work reveals there’s cause for concern and there’s more testing needed in order to see what may be going on. Been there, done that – a year ago, to be exact.

Thankfully (an understatement!) Option A prevailed today. Dr Sasha likes to give the news the second after he says hello. He looked at the computer and just said, “Perfect. Blood work looks great.” After that appointment, I climbed into the car, just like I did in September after a very similar appointment where he told me the PET scan was clear, and I  cried out, “Thank you, thank you, thank you…” I don’t actually really know who I was talking to but I do know that it was necessary and real and all that mattered. I cried and smiled and laughed with what I know to be true happiness: I get to go home and be with my family, my children, knowing I have my health today. God, I am so very grateful.

My hope for this new year is that I can say “Thank you” about every experience that comes my way, that I can see the value and be grateful for every and all this life has to offer me, that that explosion of gratitude comes more often in more situations.

Here’s to this next year being rich in health, love, and all that is good in this world. Happy 2016! We’re off to a great start…

Tracy

 

Finally, A Diagnosis

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By the time I began chemotherapy, the cancer had spread from my chest to the lymph nodes in my neck, and across my diaphragm to my spleen. Stage III B Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.

Leading up to this diagnosis, I had suffered the following symptoms beginning a year and a half prior to diagnosis: itchiness, night sweats, chest cough/shortness of breath, and enlarged lymph nodes in my neck as well as blood work showing elevated white blood cell counts and low hemoglobin. The symptoms began when I was just three months pregnant with our son, Evan. I’m glad for the timing – had I not gotten pregnant when I did, we may not have him here with us today.

I spent the entire pregnancy very tired yet unable to sleep, having hot flashes and being incredibly itchy, head to toe. Unfortunately, every symptom was seen as an “Oh, you’re pregnant, therefore your hormones are messing with you” situation. I went to numerous doctors all of whom tried their best to help me but misdiagnosed me as having eczema or PUPPPS or just being ‘hormonal’. It wasn’t until my son was 8 months old and my lymph nodes began to swell that I looked into it even more. After a massage therapist told me that the lump in my neck was most certainly NOT a muscle and a dear friend of mine insisted I go and get checked by a doctor, I went into the nearest emergency department (it was a busy Saturday, of course).

The doctor there felt around my neck and armpits then ordered a CT scan and some blood work for that week and told me to follow up with my family doctor as soon as possible. So, that’s what I did. I went into my doctor’s appointment thinking he would assuage any concerns I had about this being anything serious.

Instead, he did a full body lump check (I’m sure there’s some sort of more formal way of describing it), asked me a ton of questions, reviewed the many previous months worth of blood work, and suggested that the elevated white blood cell counts and lymph node swelling could be cancer. Holy shit. Did he just say cancer?! He wasn’t messing around. He referred me to an Ear/Nose/Throat doctor out of St Paul’s Hospital in Vancouver and I got in the following week, post CT scan.

In the first visit with him we concluded we needed a biopsy done of my lymph node as soon as possible in order to determine, on a cellular level, what was happening. It all happened so quickly, really. I was in the following week for the biopsy and I have a lovely scar across the base of my neck to prove it. Fortunately, I have a big, old wrinkle across there so he sliced through that in order to camouflage the scarring within the wrinkle as much as possible. Oh, how humbling! My hubby and I got the results the following week.

This is how it went: I sat in the patient chair so he could check the incision and my hubby sat across from me. The doctor suggested we sit together and I assure him I can handle this and it’s fine for me to sit solo. He says “Okay,” and then says, “It is cancer. Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.” Well, I looked right at Matt and began to tear up. So then I sat my silly butt next to Matt to hear the rest of what the doctor had to say. It did just sound like the teacher in the Charlie Brown cartoon going “Wah, Wah Wah…” He said he’d refer me to the team at the hospital closest to where we live and wished us luck. He also tried to reassure us by letting us know it’s the kind of cancer a certain hockey player had and kicked butt at… Mario Lemieux. Someone to look up to, at least.

Time stood still for a little while. All I could think about was how this would affect my babies, my sweet, innocent, life is so good, babies. Evan was only 8 months old and he needed a mama. Clara was 3 and a half and most certainly needed me – I’m her best friend and haven’t had to leave her, ever, even for work. This would change their world considerably. God, that pained me.

I knew in my heart that I was strong and would do anything, willingly and gladly. I also knew that my husband and I had walked through hell before with the deaths of our first three babies and that we would get through this together. I knew I could depend on my family, namely mom, stepdad, and sisters, for their unwavering and constant support.

My heart broke during that car ride home with Matt. I wept. I held my husband’s hand and just cried. I cried for the time I knew I would have to be without my children, the activities I knew I would have to miss out on with them, the care I wouldn’t be able to give to them because I knew that, for the foreseeable future, my biggest priority had to be saving my own life.

Making dozens of phone calls in the car once we got home was both cathartic and difficult. I got so much support from my nearest and dearest and I’m so grateful to have so many loving people in my life. Once I got my bearings, I went inside my house where my mom, aunt, and two kids were spending time together. My mom hugged me tighter than I have ever been hugged in my life and we cried together. I assured her I was strong and not to worry. Yeah right! A mother not worry when her daughter has cancer? I don’t know what I was thinking! One of the things I’m most grateful for is that my aunt was with my mom when she found out I had cancer. My mom wasn’t alone. Once I hugged my aunt I sat on the couch with my daughter and told her why I was crying. Poor thing, she didn’t quite understand why we were all so teary.

I simply told her that mommy had cancer and what that meant was that I had to go see more doctors and get more medicine before I could feel better. I was crying because I wished I wasn’t sick and that I could just spend all of my time taking care of her and Evan. That is all she ever knew of what cancer meant. I spent a long time putting her to bed that night, reading extra stories and laying beside her, praying, combing my fingers through her beautiful, long, curly, just-like-mine at the time, hair.

I decided to focus on what I did know to be true and not to dwell in the land of unknown fears. What I knew for sure was that the love I have in my heart and that my loved ones have from me is timeless and exceeds the bounds of our humanity. None of us really knows our ‘expiry date’ as one of my great aunts calls it. Therefore, it was time to put into practice the ‘live in the moment’ way of being I knew would bring me the most peace.

I had been unwell for so long and was actually relieved in a way to at least know what I was dealing with. I am fortunate in that I got what is considered a ‘curable’ cancer with effective drugs and plenty of research done on it. I am so grateful for so much – the doctors who tried to help me through the tough pregnancy, the relatively quick diagnosis, and the research and drugs available to help me.

My hope in writing this part of my journey is that it encourages you to get  yourself checked if you think there’s anything going on with your health. Also, for those who have or are going through the cancer journey, to know that you are not alone and that we can all get through this together. I’ve added a link to the bottom of this page in case any of you want more information on Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.

Wishing you all the very best in health over the holiday season and upcoming new year,

Tracy

http://www.bccancer.bc.ca/health-info/types-of-cancer/blood-lymphoid/hodgkin-lymphoma

Getting Balance Back

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Having cancer forced me to really live each day as it came. To be present.  That was a very good thing. All we all have is the present moment; that’s all that’s true or real (thanks Deepak Chopra and Eckhart Tolle, amongst others, for that lesson). No matter how healthy one is, noone is guaranteed a tomorrow. Can be scary to think about but also super motivating!

Having cancer also taught me to not take for granted the joy of planning ahead and looking forward to adventures out and about with family and friends. Missing out on time with my children, some family functions, dinners out, weekends away felt disappointing at the time and yet I knew what I had to focus on: getting through chemo as well as possible.

So, once I got the ‘all-clear’ this past September, you’d think I’d be ready to go – getting plans in place for tons of fun. Instead, I went through about a month of trepedation. I actually felt like I had lost any ability to look toward a future beyond my next chemo treatment. My routine for more than six months went like this: Wednesday chemo, rest for a few days (so grateful to my hubby who bought me an ipad for my birthday so I could spend endless hours on Netflix watching some of the best shows – Downton Abbey, Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt, The Mindy Project to name a few), eat what I could, take dozens of pills, feel yucky, suffer from chemo mouth through that weekend, start to feel a bit better the following Tuesday, spend the following Wednesday through Tuesday feeling pretty normal and eating well (loads of poutine and fish ‘n chips for some insane reason), playing with my kidlets as much as I possibly could. Then, another Wednesday would come and the whole routine would begin again. Two week increments. I made plans according to what day of the chemo cycle it would be and how I would be feeling. Not a bad way to live – being present, for sure. So, when that’s the norm for so long, it takes a while to get balance back. To get to that real-life place of both maintaining presence with dreaming big dreams again.

I’m glad to say, I’m here. I’m in the land of hope, fun times, joyful experiences, spending my time using this one precious life I’ve been given to do good, and having a good laugh. I have the energy to run around the playground with my kids, to read good books, to write this blog, to stay late at a family gathering and play Pictionary just like we’ve done for decades now. I’m finding that ‘white light disco’ balance: zen-like presence and appreciation with goal-oriented fun and dreaming.

I look forward to sharing some good times with you all. This blog is helping me be accountable to that goal of mine – live my dreams and share them with the world in the hopes that other people find some way to both appreciate each moment and dream big. Thanks for sharing this journey with me. I hope you all share your big dreams here with me too.

Let’s enjoy the moment and let the good times roll!

Cheers,

Tracy

The Helpers

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My two, beautiful sisters, escorting me out of my last chemo. Two of my biggest ‘helpers.’ I’m so grateful for them!

I do really believe that what we focus on expands. It’s a choice – how we perceive a situation determines our experience. Instead of thinking about what cancer took from me, I’ve decided to turn any negative thought about cancer into what has come from cancer that I’m so grateful for. When tragedy strikes, I’ve often wondered and questioned where God could possibly be.

As some of you may know, I was first pregnant six and a half years ago with triplets. Sadly, I went into premature labour and gave birth to them at twenty-two weeks and five days. As I held my first three children, still in my arms, I didn’t feel God in their dead bodies. But, I did feel God (light, pure love, peace) envelop me in the room as the nurses, doctors, and my husband and family gathered around us. A while after their birth, I heard a phrase that rang so true to me: that God isn’t in the horror of a tragedy, but in the helpers. Finally, this makes sense to me. There are horrible tragedies around our world each and every day and they break my heart. Not to minimize tragedy, but I do tend to focus on the good, the love, the kindnesses shown in such tragedies by first responders, bystanders, the helpers. Love is more powerful than fear, this I know to be true.

I thought it would be fitting to share the speech I wrote for the ladies at the luncheon I hosted and just blogged about. Focusing on the many helpers I had through my cancer experience helps me feel positive and hopeful. One speech wasn’t enough to share everything that so many people did for me and my family but I tried to include some of the most meaningful moments and ways that people supported me. There are a number of ladies whom I would have said more about in the speech but they weren’t able to make it to the lunch that day. I am planning on delivering their thank-you cards and little gifts in person soon…

Thank You Luncheon Speech

I would like to make a toast to you, my family and friends, who helped me through the challenges that cancer brought me. You’re here because I want to show you my gratitude. This is an opportunity for you to acknowledge each other as well. Going through cancer was made a more gentle experience because of the kindnesses you all shared with me. Together, you cleaned my home, drove me to appointments, dropped off food at my door, took my children on outings, babysat them, sat by my side at chemo days, visited me in the hospital, called or texted or emailed to check up on me, sent supportive cards and gifts, lent an ear to my husband when he needed it, gave me strength when mine was fading, and took time away from your own lives and families to help me and mine. I tell people all the time that I had very little to complain about in terms of the cancer experience – and that is thanks to all of you. You took care of me and my immediate family in our time of need and I’m so very glad I get to be healthy enough now to show you my gratitude by way of some food and drinks and company (without our young kids around). I want to acknowledge some of you who were the most instrumental in helping me through this year:

Mom- for spending every Wednesday as well as many other days and evenings in my home with my kids, loving them with as much love and joy as I do. I know this was a difficult experience for you and that you would have taken it on rather than watch me go through it had you had the choice. I want you to know that the love you have for me has always been a source of great strength to me and has provided me with courage time and again. I know that the love Grandma had for you and what I imagine her mother had for her informs much of your strength. I feel that to my very core – the strength Grandma had is in you, and me, and in my daughter. I thank you for your unconditional love and fortitude.

Cynthia – for coming home. I remember talking with you in January while I laid on the couch in my living room, watching my kids play, and being so tired that I couldn’t get up. I told you then that I was sick, really sick, but didn’t know yet it was cancer. You listened to me, cried with me, and encouraged me to get help. Then, you came home. I don’t know what Matt and I would have done had you not been here for those many months, taking me to chemo, babysitting my kids, visiting with me to keep my spirits up. Life has dealt us both some major blessings as well as some enormous challenges. You’ve supported me through them all and, for that, I am grateful. Thank you for your understanding, compassion, and friendship.

Kim – for loving me so much that your heart broke for me when you heard that I had cancer. You’re such a generous person and I’m so grateful to you for showing up for me as much as you have. You always checked in on me and took time away from doing things you’d like to do for yourself and your own family to help me and mine. I loved spending time with you on chemo days and during my hospital stay. Having you with me my first evening at Lions Gate was so much fun. I loved laughing with you as we realized I’d be spending the night in the trauma room there and at how cute yet another one of my doctors was. Thanks for looking after my kids and making my time without them fun for them. We all adore you. Thank you for your generosity, sense of humour, and time.

Erin – for being my very best friend. A friend who dropped everything to take care of me. You were at my side for my first chemo, helping me laugh through it. You took me to get a wig and out to lunches and to many more appointments. You arranged for two Disney characters to participate in the hair shaving party. You laughed with me and cried with me and reminded me that I could get through this when I was my most scared. You brought me food and broke me out of emergency room bunker hell – FREEDOM! You were the one person who asked me about my mortality, knowing that you’d be the one person I would tell the whole, honest even ugly, truth to. Yes, I was scared, and you knew it. Thank you for showing up, being there, and for knowing me well enough to talk to me about the whole experience.

Aunty Sandy – for loving me as much as any aunt could ever love her niece. You were at my house so often, taking care of my kids and me. You drove me to many appointments, kept me company a lot of the time, brought me food, chatted with Matt, held me as I fell apart and cried both for me and with me. People have told me that they think I’m such a positive person and I know that comes from having you as an integral person in my life. Thank you for your friendship, love for my kids, and positive example.

Jenny – for being my sister/friend. You have always made me laugh and been a joy to be around. Thank you so much for bringing dinner once a week for many months, for your company, for helping with the kids so often. When I was in the hospital, I knew that, with you being home with my kids meant that they had the best part of me with them – the joy, humour, and affection you gave and continue to give my kids means that they know love without boundaries. Thank you for your humour, compassion, and joyful energy.

Leanne – for your presence. You cooked for me and my family many a Tuesday night just to go home and do the same for your own family. You drove me to appointments, looked after my kids, and sent so many lovely, supportive, thoughtful cards as well as went to the trouble of creating a care package for me early on in my treatment. Thank you for your friendship, understanding, and encouragement.

Suzanne – for your friendship. You opened your home to my kids and watched my kids a ton while I got dinner on or rested. You listened with compassion and allowed me to talk about anything and everything going on in my life – cancer craziness, hubby ‘troubles’, kidlet frustrations … Thank you for spending so much time with me, my kids, and my other friends and family outside while they were helping out. I’m so glad that our friendship has gotten stronger through this process. Thank you for your open heart, love for me kids, and the good laughs along the way.

Fiona – for your unwavering support and encouragement. You took me to many appointments and helped watch my kids. Your mom even helped by picking me up for an appointment one day. You’re such a caring, generous person and I know you did everything you could do help me and my family through this. I know the cancer would have progressed further had you not encouraged me to go into the ER and get the lumps in my neck checked out. You told me from the start that I can beat this, that the cancer will not win. Thank you for having faith in me and for being there for me at any and every point along the way.

Shauna – for your tremendous support and compassion. I will hold the “Go Away Cancer” event close to my heart for the rest of my life. Your inspiration helped turn one of the most humbling and difficult tasks I had to face with cancer into a joyful, loving, philanthropic event. You and your friend Beth, in shaving your heads with me, showed me that I would not walk alone on this journey. How courageous of you! Thank you for your constant support through the darkest times in my life. Thank you for your generosity of spirit and loving heart.

As for the rest of you wonderful friends, thank you for all you’ve done for me. I am so blessed because I have so many friends I admire and appreciate. As Cody Brown from one of my weirdly favourite shows says, “Love should be multiplied, not divided.” So, this is me, multiplying love. I promise you that I will spend the rest of my life passing on all that you have done for me to those I know and come across that are in need of some kindness, compassion, and care. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

Cheers!

Tracy

Great Gratitude Luncheon

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I am so very fortunate – I got to survive cancer. My hope is that all those who get diagnosed with cancer get to see the other side of it. Cancer is horrible, there’s no getting around it. What isn’t horrible, though, is the magnification of goodness it brings into one’s life. As a result of my cancer, I got closer to my mom, sisters, neighbours, friends, and, for that, I am eternally grateful. Because I got lucky, had a cancer that is deemed ‘curable’, I get to have another chapter. All I want to do with this ‘bonus time’ is expand all the good – and that means showing people how much I appreciate them. What a joy!

A few Sundays ago, I got to host some of the lovely ladies who helped me get through this last, difficult, year of my life. Included were my family, sisters, mom, aunts, cousin, and many dear friends. These women cared for my children, took me to appointments and chemo days, kept me company, checked up on me via phone calls, texts, and emails, cooked for me and my family, sent supportive notes, cards, flowers, and gifts. Without these women, my husband, kids, and I would not have gotten through cancer nearly as stress-free and cared for.

I had so much fun planning this luncheon! It was truly my honour to plan an event where the ladies I love got to unwind and be spoiled. We had a picturesque spot on Deer Lake at the Hart House in Burnaby, BC. The service was impeccable with two servers who took care of every request – champagne, wine, coffee/tea, and a delicious three course meal which ended with the best dessert most of us at the table had ever tasted: Chai Creme Brulee. I had some flower arrangements done from Elderberry Florist in Port Moody, BC, and thank you cards at each setting along with a pair of earrings for each lady thanks to Brooklyn Designs out of Surrey, BC. For most of us at the luncheon, the best part was being able to have some adult, lady time away from our beloved young children. We got to spend a few hours without the nose-wiping, diaper-changing, food-prep only for the food to be thrown on the floor, joys of being at home.

I loved mingling, catching up, and sharing some bevvies with all these ladies. Then we sat around the huge table and the meal began. My Aunty Teresa shared some kind words as a toast at the start of lunch explaining her experience of me going through cancer treatment. She would call or visit me at a chemo day with every intention of cheering me up just to find that I was already pretty chipper – which resulted in her being cheered up too. I enjoyed our visits immensely and am so grateful to so many who did come to spend time with me. My favourite part of the luncheon was being able to share with everyone there via a speech my sincerest gratitude to each and every person there for all they did for me and my family. Although I had intended for the luncheon to be an experience of pure joy, the tears came as I read my speech aloud. I most certainly am a blubber-puss and so are many of those close to me. I suppose the tears were really made of love.

This luncheon was so much fun that I’m thinking that I may do this ladies luncheon every year. This was an opportunity to celebrate all things good. A celebration of health, fresh starts, new beginnings, a next chapter. Had I loads of money, I would have a party every weekend in order to ‘live it up’, expand love and light, and celebrate every single day as a gift.

This experience capped off my journey with cancer in the best way possible: a room filled with love so tangible and hope so palpable that I will never forget it. It’s motivated me to do even more in the name of gratitude…

I’m curious: What do you do to celebrate those around you? What would you love to treat yourself and your loved ones to?

I look forward to hearing all about your ideal celebrations.

Cheers,

Tracy

Perfect!
One set of earrings from Brooklyn Designs. Love them!
My bestie, Erin, and I out front after our luncheon.
Pure scrumptiousness!
My cousin, Jenny, and I having a lovely time.
Our menu.

 

Why ‘White Light Disco’?

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I’ve been inundating Matt for weeks now with adjectives regarding the kind of blog I wanted to write: bright, fireworky (not a real word, I know), expanding, glittery etc. Most of the time, I feel so much gratitude, love, joy in my heart that I feel like  it’s going to burst wide open and this is what I want to share with the world. Super cheesy, I know.

I’ve always had a skip in my step. I used to walk to high school with my next door neighbour,Lauren, and she would mock me (in a way that a neighbour friend whom you’ve known your whole life and is more like a sister than a friend can) because I would actually be bouncing as I walked. It’s just how I was made, to be honest. Instead of calming that bounce, I’ve decided to exaggerate it. This blog is my way of pouring forth every bit of happiness from every cell of my body. But what kind of title matches that feeling without really making people want to fake puke?

It’s not that my life has always been this easy, fairytale type of life. The sense of inner peace that I have now didn’t come through having an easy time of it. As a child, we didn’t have much money, my dad was a mess, didn’t treat our mom or us that well a lot of the time, and didn’t pull his weight (that’s a euphemism, by the way). We lived in a small basement suite and our mom worked hard scrubbing pots at the local hospital to try to get us off of welfare.

Don’t get me wrong – I count myself beyond blessed for all that we did have growing up. My two sisters and I had a strong example in our mother who put herself through two years of college to become a medical records technician to support us. We had a roof over our heads and food in our mouths, unconditional love and kindness from many family and friends, the most truly generous grandparents, and fantastic schools with the kindest teachers. I feel like there’s so much to be grateful for that the other ‘stuff’ just doesn’t have room to sit with me. There’s forgiveness for all the wrongs and gratitude for the very many rights.

Once married, I went through some of my very worst nightmares: watching my sister and her husband go through the loss of their first born son, Bailey, going through infertility for years then losing our beloved first born triplets, Alissa, Beth, and Daniel, more infertility, difficult pregnancies, and this last year brought Hodgkin’s Lymphoma to my door. I have seen the darkest days I could have ever imagined and wouldn’t wish on any other soul. I didn’t always feel grateful, acceptance, light.

It was about a year ago now that I came to a place of acceptance with all that life brings. I then had a three year old, healthy daughter and a newborn son. I was doing a lot of reading of spiritual texts (Eckhart Tolle’s “A New Earth”, Marianne Williamson’s “A Return to Love”,  Michael Singer’s “An Untethered Soul” to name a few) and I began meditating along with Oprah and Deepak Chopra’s audios online. For the first time since I was a teenager attending St Edmund’s Catholic Church, I prayed. I ‘woke up’, became ‘consious’ so to speak and I have been at true peace ever since. How it worked, I have no idea. What I do know is that I feel in line and present with every moment and at peace with every experience having led me right where I need to be.

I have been reading Kris Carr’s book, “Crazy, Sexy Cancer Survivor” before bed lately. When I came across the phrase, “You are a white light disco with no ceilings and no limitations,” the sense of knowing ‘this is perfect!’ hit me square in the face. I AM a white light disco – WE ALL ARE!

The image brings me peace and joy and I do hope it brings you all the same, in spades.

Cheers,

Tracy

Hello There!

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Welcome to a dream come true.

I can now say that I am a cancer survivor. Cancer has given me many gifts; namely, the gift of appreciation for each and every single day that I get here. Each blessed day is a gift.

As a result, I’m no longer going to stay in the “Waiting Place” that Dr Seuss describes. It’s my time to “find the bright places/ Where Boom Bands are playing.” My hope in writing this blog is that both you and I are motivated to do the things that bring us joy, make our hearts sing, and create a happier, more peaceful world as a result.

I’ve always wanted to be a writer. I’ve held writers in such high esteem that I felt it an unattainable dream until recently. You see, I have a Bachelor’s Degree majoring in English Literature and I taught English at the high school level for a few years before having my kids. Like many of you, I appreciate a well-crafted poem and a gripping narrative. I never felt like my strength in school or teaching was in the writing but, rather, in the understanding, explaining, and connecting of the pieces.

It took having a conversation about following her own dreams with my four-year-old daughter, Clara, to convince myself that I can really do anything, too. If I live it, she will believe it. The more I live out my own dreams, the more she will be free to live out hers.

So, this blog is now a reality. I hope it inspires you to dream big, live out loud, reach for the stars … truly. I look forward to sharing this space with you.

Cheers to life!

Tracy