So, in order to write a memoir, I have to find my “authentic self”. Not the self that I necessarily project to the world, in order to feel powerful and in control.  The self that is alone with her thoughts at night, when everyone else is asleep. Believe me, sometimes it is hard for me to separate the two.

That is what my free association exercises are helping me to do.  When I do an exercise and it says, “I remember (fill in the blanks)” I could say I remember a big promotion, a school award one, making honor roll, winning two “bests” in the high school year book,  or even getting married and having kids. Those would be what my projected self would most likely say.

My authentic self, however, might say I remember the day that my birth father left for the last time (the night before kindergarten, by the way), worrying constantly in my childhood and teens about my mother’s cancer coming back (I didn’t even know the word recurring at that time), the first time I felt the dreaded lump, the doctor visit that confirmed my biggest fear and particularly I remember the two week period in between the time I knew I had cancer and the time I f0und out that it had NOT spread all over my body. I remember coming home from my first surgery and being bandaged but, insisting on getting into the kiddie pool with my oldest son, three at the time. I remember coming home from the visit where I was officially given the news, and having to tell my 80 year old grandparents that I did, indeed, have cancer. I remember the looks on their faces, and how my grandfather tried so hard not to cry. I remember the first time my port was accessed. It was still swollen from being recently inserted and I had a gaggle of nurses around me trying to make me comfortable and holding my hand so that they could pound the needle into my chest, into the port, so that the poison could course through my veins. I remember the cold feeling I would get when it did and how my pee was pink for hours after. I remember my beautiful, thick, long hair and how I had to shave it right away because it started coming out just a couple of days after my treatment (they don’t tell you that it hurts) and I remember losing the very essence of my womanhood. I remember every one of my twenty surgeries since 2002 and the metal taste in my mouth when I even enter a hospital now. The way my heart beats faster and faster until it feels like it is coming right out of my chest, until they give me something to relax me. I remember how it felt to hold my father’s hand, while mine was still weak, to try and comfort him when he was intubated after his heart surgery, the look on my mother’s face when she was told that her cancer had come back (my biggest nightmare), and the fear in my heart when my father was diagnosed, shortly after, with a brain tumor (non malignant, thank God).

Now, this does not mean that I am not a happy person. It just means that my free association leads me here first. That is unfortunate but, is also the truth. It means I have more healing to do.

I hope that I don’t scare any of you off.  I have not intention of making this a depressing place to be but, there may be some posts that may be  hard to read. Imagine being in my head. 🙂

Those that know me know that I have also had a wonderful life in many, many ways. Filled with many friends, loving family, much success in almost anything I try. I need to get to a point where these memories are at the forefront. I think I can do it. I have never not accomplished something I put my mind to.

That is why I want to thank you all so much. I have over twenty email subscribers and over a hundred hits in just the first couple of hours online.  I truly hope that all of my scattered thoughts can come together into a cohesive story about love, life’s trials, and perseverance. Let’s face it, who among us can’t relate to that?