Erasing Everything

That title is super dramatic. 

I am super dramatic lately. 

I also feel like I am fall.ing.a.part.  (see how I dramatically put a period in-between each syllable so that you would read it sort of like a robot with a lot of emphasis? It worked didn't it. Also, did you go back and read it again?)

But truth.  I am struggling.  

It is normal to struggle. 

I get that. 

I don't have to like it.  

So, I have decided to blog about it. 

Mostly because I went to a new therapist this week and talking about it helped, so I figure blogging should help too.  

Maybe she can help me. 

The last therapist I went to back in November or December told me that I need to refer to my cancer as "confused cells" 

I didn't go back. Shocker. 

And then I thought I was doing okay.....and I was for a little while. 

And then the world came crashing down right around the time I was at chemo round 15.5 (that's just a cool way of saying I was in-between round 15 and 16)  

It was the day that I sent a text to my group of girlfriends telling them that I wanted to take every picture off the walls that reminded me of life before cancer. I wanted to get rid of everything that was the me pre-cancer.  

It was just too much.  I felt like that if I erased the past, erased everything that had been that this life I am living now wouldn't be so hard.  You know, I would have nothing to compare "now" to. I wouldn't look at the pictures of me and think: "Look at your smile.  You were so happy.  You had no idea what was ahead." or "Look at your kids just lounging in the grass at the park and begging to be pushed in the swing.  They have no idea that trips to the park are going to be a rarity because you just can't handle it." or "Look at Eric, holding on to your cute tiny waist  (but really wishing he could just grab your butt. Only he knows better than to do that while someone is taking a picture) and smiling that carefree smile of his, and you standing there all pretty in your wedding dress  He had no idea that cold December day how hard it would get and that your tiny waist would go away and be replaced by fat that you need to keep your body alive." or "Look at your baby.  She was so little.  She is still so little even though she thinks she is big.  She says things like: 'go bye bye yutty cancer' now (her sisters teach her) A 2 year old shouldn't know the word cancer."

And I almost did take the pictures down. 

But then I thought it might be really scary to the girls to come home to empty walls and me holed up in my room and Eric working until 10 pm (remember it was the last couple weeks of tax time -- I am sure that didn't help the situation). 

Empty. 

That is exactly how I feel if I think too much about my circumstances. 

Empty, but with cancer eating my body up and chemo trying to kill it.  

I ask myself what I can do to fix this feeling pretty much daily.  

Others ask me what they can do to help daily too. 

So, here is what I think.  

I need to get back to thinking about all the things I do have.  The things that make my life anything but empty.  And funny thing is, that the pictures I really wanted to take off the wall -- they are what makes me full -- not the actual pictures of course, but the people and memories associated with them. They are what have enabled me to make it this far in this challenge.  

In fact I went and helped a dear friend of mine who just moved to hang up her pictures on her wall this week.  Apparently I have an eye for things like hanging pictures (not to mention that swinging a hammer, even if it is just at a tiny little nail is somewhat therapeutic in and of itself).  As I was hanging pictures with her it occurred to me that maybe what I need isn't to erase everything, and take down my pictures but to work really hard at creating new pictures and memories.  

I mean Tess and I take nap time selfies pretty much every day.  I didn't do that before cancer.  There were things to get done and no time for naps. 

The girls and I dance and sing to the Beauty and the Beast or Moana soundtrack every day after school.  Most of the time Tess takes off her clothes and shouts "naket dance party" -- we didn't do that before cancer.  I was too busy worrying about things that didn't matter. 

Eric and I go to the temple with a little bit more purpose and have a whole new appreciation for Eternal families and the covenants we made. 

We have spontaneous movie nights and water fights -- because we can.  

We play kitchen and make cookies that will never be cooked because the dough just gets eaten first.  

You get the idea.  

The pictures I need to focus on look a little more like this:  

These pictures haven't changed.  

I love this picture of Eric reading scripture to the girls
*even if they probably weren't listening...

This picture was taken in July right as we were awaiting an official diagnosis. 

This is Lauren earning money for our Relay for Life team "Fight with Faith not Fear"!
 

These people are still the ones I love.  

This Savior is still my advocate with the Father. 

His arms are still open wide. 

The temple always has and always will continue to bring me peace. 

I do not really want to erase everything. 

Even when it gets hard.  

And because Tess is sitting next to me and insisting that I find a picture of Elsa.....that is still a constant at our house -- before and after and during cancer.  That girls loves her Elsa.