Nov-versaries ...

  ... and being okay with not being "okay."

  It's hard to believe that I've been in West Virginia now for almost a full year.  What a year it has been, too.  I thought 2020 was the pits, but 2021 outdid it.  

    I started 2021 thinking that my word of the year was going to be "create."  To create a new life after 2020 and ten years of living with a closet meth-addict-alcoholic-narcissistic-gas-lighting-abuser.  

  I had a dream in the spring of opening an indi-book shop on Main Street to help indi-authors promote their books and encourage wannabe writers.  That dream was shelved by early summer when my health suddenly took a nosedive in the deep end of the whattheheckisgoingonwithme pool.

    Instead, I think my word quickly became "recover."  This year has been all about recovering from those ten years in the deep end of the stress pool, swimming with insanity.  Ten years of acting brave when I was terrified.  Ten years of struggling for jobs, food, places to live, utilities.  Ten years of losing everything again and again and again.  Ten years of losing myself.

  Anyone who thinks that stress (work, home, life, whatever) doesn't take a physical toll on you needs to think again.  The physical act of my body purging all of that ... not something I would wish on anyone.  Ever.

  Less than five months ago, I wasn't even sure I was going to see the end of the year after being told by an oncologist that I had stage four colon cancer that spread to my liver and lymph nodes.  I was planning for my death, making arrangements for my furkids to find new homes.  Planning on sending goodbye letters instead of Christmas cards.

  Anyone who thinks that planning for your own death doesn't take an emotional and mental toll on you needs to think again.

  Every morning that I wake up, I am blessed and amazed.  Every night I climb into bed, I am blessed and amazed.  There is nothing I take for granted now.  Not my health.  Not my family.  Not my friends.

  But I also know that it's okay to say that I'm not "okay."  This year has been so hard for me, and I recognize that a part of me is broken.

  The 18th marks the beginning of my season of rebirth from that recovery.  It will be a year since my divorce.  A year since I left Wisconsin to start life over again somewhere I had never been before, somewhere with no friends or family waiting to greet me.  It will be 56 days since the surgeon confirmed I did not have colon cancer.  Forty-seven days since biopsies confirmed I did not have liver cancer.  Just over a month since my mom died and another fight with my brother severed ties between us forever.  

  I'm still waiting on a CT scan to confirm that my lymph nodes have returned to normal [now scheduled finally for the 17th].  But I am already getting counseling with BetterHealth online [<< click the link to get a free week] to talk to someone about not being "okay."  I have over ten years of unpacking some bottled-up emotions and PTSD.

  I'm not "okay" today.  But I will be.